The Ecological Debt: What Humanity Owes the Future (Second of a series)



(Also published by The Manila Times on 5 September 2026.)


The mango tree above me stands in a place quite distant from the woods that Robert Frost felt strongly about in his poem. But it similarly offers a quiet, alluring peace of nature; lovely, bright, and deep in its symbolism.

It stands like a lonely lobby for an accounting of what had been lost due to ignorance and greed. Will humanity be able to settle its ecological debt before it sleeps, before the close of the age—an ending it caused because it failed to act in time? The late Father Roque Feriols SJ, a Filipino Jesuit priest, said: “When everything that needs to be said has been said, the only thing left unsaid is the action.”

This may sound like a sore policy brief. But jumping to global parallels is simply hard to ignore.

The United Nations reports that the world is currently off track to meet both the Paris Agreement net-zero goals and the UN Sustainable Development Goals (SDGs) for the environment, saying, “While wealthy nations have met their baseline financial promises on paper, independent watchdogs argue that their actual structural contribution falls far short of addressing global ecological crises.”

The basic aim of the Paris Agreement is to limit global warming to 1.5°C above pre-industrial levels. It is a legally binding international treaty on climate change. Its overarching goal is to hold “the increase in the global average temperature to well below 2°C above pre-industrial levels” and pursue efforts “to limit the temperature increase to 1.5°C above pre-industrial levels.”

The agreement was adopted by 195 Parties at the UN Climate Change Conference (COP21) in Paris, France, on 12 December 2015. It entered into force on 4 November 2016. As of 2026, there are 194 Parties to the Paris Agreement. The United States of America, historically the world’s largest emitter of greenhouse gases, left the group not once, but twice.

Under President Barack Obama, the U.S. became one of the original agreement signatories. The US disengaged in 2020 during the first term of President Donald Trump. A year later, President Joe Biden assumed office and forthwith re-committed the US to be a party to the accord. But when Trump returned to the White House in 2026, he again initiated an exit process that formalized the US’s second withdrawal from the Paris Agreement.

According to a United Nations Environment Programme Emissions Gap Report, the global community is heading toward severe climate risks. The report recommends that “global greenhouse gas emissions must drop 55% by 2035 to maintain the 1.5°C pathway. “

However, at the present rate the national climate commitments (Nationally Determined Contributions or NDCs) are moving, estimates that global emissions will be reduced by only 12% by 2035. Achieving global net-zero by 2050 without significantly overshooting the temperature limit has now become “increasingly unlikely.”

The UN Sustainable Development Goals (SDGs) Report similarly paints a grim picture for environmental metrics. With only four years left until the 2030 deadline, the structural implementation of sustainability goals is fundamentally lagging.

The overall scorecard shows that “only about 35% to 36% of all measurable SDG targets are on track or making modest progress. Nearly half are moving too slowly, and roughly 15–18% are actively regressing… There are critical environmental failures in the promotion of sustainable cities (SDG 11), climate action (SDG 13), life below water (SDG 14), and life on land (SDG 15)—all of which are deemed deeply off track or stagnating worldwide. Carbon Dioxide (CO₂) levels are the highest humanity has seen in over two million years.”

Whether wealthy, developed nations (the historical drivers of emissions) are fulfilling their duties or not is debatable. On paper, developed countries have officially exceeded the historic $100 billion annual climate finance goal for three consecutive years, with around $136.7 billion having been reported as being mobilized or earmarked for mobilization. Domestically, many wealthy countries have accelerated their internal transitions to renewable energy, which is currently the fastest-rising source of power globally.

But humanitarian organizations like Oxfam argue that the actual economic value of the climate finance provided is closer to $33 billion to $45 billion, which is only a third of what is claimed. This is because rich nations count commercial-rate loans (which trap poorer nations in debt) as "climate aid" instead of providing direct financial grants.

The hurdles do not appear to be easing. More recent projections indicate that the global climate finance target has ballooned to $300 billion annually from developed countries, with total required investments sitting closer to $1.3 trillion per year by 2035. Yet major historic polluters like the United States contribute only about 8% of the global total of international climate finance, lagging behind multilateral development banks.

International index rankings show that while European nations score the highest in internal sustainability, their high-income domestic consumption and trade systems continue to generate massive negative ecological impacts on the rest of the world, notably the poorer countries. 

The structural architecture of global supply chains facilitates a massive transfer of biophysical wealth. By externalizing the material costs of high-consumption lifestyles through negative spillovers—such as localized habitat destruction and toxic runoff—wealthy consumer nations accumulate a compounding ecological debt owed to the exploited ecosystems and communities of the global South.

Over the years, key supply chain spillover channels have impacted unevenly upon the global population:

·        Ecological Asymmetry: Wealthy nations import clean finished goods while outsourcing resource-heavy, highly polluting raw extraction and refining processes to poorer nations.

·        Transnational Degradation: Environmental damage—such as severe deforestation not only for timber products but also for minerals, and toxic chemical leaks into vital water basins—remains locked inside the exporting country.

·        Health and Social Costs: Local populations in production zones suffer from respiratory illnesses, displaced communities, and lost agricultural land, none of which are paid for by the final buyer.

·        Regulatory Arbitrage: Multi-national brands intentionally position dangerous parts of their supply chains in regions with weak environmental laws to keep market prices artificially low.


The Ecological Debt: What Humanity Owes the Future (First of a series)



I raise chickens at the backyard of the house.


(This article was also published by The Manila Times on 29 August 2026.)


The floods—made more morbid by tales of corruption and the recent deadly strike somewhere in Nepal—prompt me to take another hard look at how we relate to nature.

Fifty years ago, while still a teenager, I helped my parents till a small rice field. Often, family members did the cultivation, planting, and weeding. Farm workers always helped, having seen how the other rice farmers did it. But paying for their wages would have been costly, and we were usually short on cash. We had relative plenty from survival crops like camote and gabi because my parents—Hilario and Maria—also worked hard on our upland farms during the rice-farming offseason.

My hometown in Eastern Samar lacked rice fields. But I liked rice farming because I had other interests. I loved snaring wild birds and putting them in cages. There were schools and schools of them in rice fields during summer, when the fields turned golden, the time crops announced they were ready for harvest. Like us humans, other living creatures were drawn to the free food. There were red maya (Lonchura atricapilla) birds that could cover whole fields when they descended from neighboring valleys. Flying together, they formed like a giant Arabian rug, hovering in a variety of shapes most likely orchestrated by how the winds blew, or wherever the scarecrows surprised them, before landing on their feast.

Yonder, farther afield at the edge of valleys where sloping hills came into view, were dalakit (Ficus philippinensis) trees that stooped to almost ground level when heavy with ripe fruit. Their branches drooped even more when a variety of other birds, wild pigeons and korokoro (Phapitreron leucotis) among them, feasted on the fruits. The flapping of their wings in a feeding frenzy was a stunning sight.

But I spent most of my time around the rice fields where quails were easier to trap. Like mice, this mostly pedestrian, pint-sized bird has a big appetite for grains, especially rice. Hours on end under the midday sun, I set traps between stalks of native rice—which were much taller than what the rice farmers plant today—and seemingly oblivious of the heat. 

I’m not sure now if I did it for reasons other than vanity. The bird meat, when cooked over an open fire, smelt like any other protein-rich food. My friends and I sometimes gathered to barbecue them. They were delicious to the taste. But being small, they hardly satisfied hungry bellies. No meal was worth the effort required to cook and set them out on the table. Other ends could hardly be justified as well. Not being born to be domesticated, they could not be tamed and kept as pets for longer than a couple of weeks. In the end, these irreplaceable treasures of nature were simply wasted.

At 66, I feel like a remorseful accountant. The examination of how I contributed to the melancholic poverty of nature is a sobering thought. Under a mango tree, in a place where I grew up before the search for livelihood sent me to faraway places, the table with either a laptop or a chess board on top of it has yet to materialize. I have long desired to set this table up. To me, chess or writing can consume the hours otherwise claimed by a conscience nagged with remorse. But, somehow, the work had not kept pace with the desire. There are raw materials nearby, mostly scraps of hardwood probably discarded years ago. What adds to the lack of will is that neither the laptop nor the chessboard exists.

This nook is in the backyard, just a few steps from the old house my maternal grandfather built two years before I was born. He built it with hardwood—concrete materials being mostly unheard of in that era. Yet it has survived the most devastating typhoons that hit the country, including the 2013 Super Typhoon Yolanda (Haiyan) that claimed no less than 6,300 Filipino lives and left almost two million families homeless. No other proof of his elite craftsmanship can be more compelling. But quite unlike him, I could not get around to building this table even in my idle time.

I also have the weather to blame. An hour of downpour would leave the mango tree flooded for several days. This has been a good enough excuse for me to postpone putting in the woodwork needed to assemble the fixture. Every time I look up and see the clouds gathering low, rain is sure to follow, even during summertime. I could tell this was not how it used to be. It makes me miss my youth in the rice fields when the climate kept the seasons true to their calendar. Today, the seasons have lost their rhythm. It can rain any hour. The sun may or may not show up at all. Or it shines imposingly, generating heat beyond bearable levels.     

So, the table under the mango remains unticked among the priority to-do list. I realize now that many things are left undone despite keeping oneself busy in one's youth. The lifespan of Filipino males averages at 67 to 71 years, so the pressure to rush things up a bit mounts, knowing there is little time left while there are still lots of promises to keep, “before I sleep.”

When Robert Frost wrote in 1922 the following lines: "The woods are lovely, dark and deep, / But I have promises to keep, / And miles to go before I sleep," he painted the contrasting colors of a quiet, alluring peace of nature with that of a restless pull of social duties and human obligation.  



When courage is gone

The Manila Times cartoon, 4 June 2025

It's tough to see the Senate unable to stand up for something. It looks as if it is spineless.

Bum bones are sorry signs of paralysis. The disorder makes human faculties visceral. It addles one's resolve, implodes the will, prompts weaklings to scurry for an easy way out, minding convenience but never minding damning the rules. All told, this is a case of courage deserting grown women and men.

The post-election temperature has dropped, but the impeachment case against Vice President Sara Duterte remains a political hot potato that most senators are unwilling to touch.

When the Senate shelved the case four month ago, disrespecting its own rules and the mandate of the Constitution no less, Senate President Francis Escudero explained that the legislative calendar offered little room for the chamber he heads to convene as an impeachment court. He went on to offer a date—June 2—in which the trial could begin. Last week, the date has been moved to June 11, again supposedly to ensure that nothing gets in the way of lawmaking.

Part of the existing Senate rules on impeachment provides that on “xxx the day appointed for the trial of an impeachment, the legislative business of the Senate, if there be any, shall be suspended” (Rule X). This is compelling enough as to suggest that legislative work must yield to impeachment proceedings, as Senate Minority Leader Aquilino Pimentel III has explained. He and Senator Risa Hontiveros are about the only dissenting voices in a room that keeps finding ways to delay Duterte’s trial.

That Escudero and most senators could go as far as to make light the intent not only of Senate rules but even of the Constitution has given rise to the suspicion that, at best, they pander to public perception (as suggested by surveys, for example) and, at worst, they are owned by fear of Duterte. Article XI, Section 4 in the 1987 Constitution says that “In case the verified complaint or resolution of impeachment is filed by at least one-third of all the Members of the House, the same shall constitute the Articles of Impeachment, and trial by the Senate shall forthwith proceed.” 

At a time when Duterte continues to enjoy public approval, survey-based decision making lowers the bar of governance. It is disappointing enough that the election process is largely a function of popularity, but for the administration of justice and of accountability to now be captive of popularity is a new low. 

There is a historical backdrop by which today’s Senate is measured.

In 1991, the late then President Corazon Aquino sent to the Senate a treaty for ratification. The treaty (RP-US Treaty of Friendship, Cooperation and Peace) sought the continued presence of US military bases in the country. But despite strong public support for the bases (Aquino even braved a downpour to lead a march to the Senate by like-minded lobbyists), the Senate mustered enough votes to reject the treaty. 

Twelve senators, later labelled by media as “The Magnificent 12,” stood up to show courage in the defense of their conviction. They consisted of then Senate President Jovito Salonga, Agapito Aquino, Juan Ponce Enrile, Joseph Estrada, Teofisto Guingona Jr., Sotero Laurel, Orlando Mercado, Ernesto Maceda, Aquilino Pimentel Jr, Victor Ziga, Rene Saguisag, and Wigberto Tañada. 

For being unmindful of what the survey said (at a time when pollsters enjoyed credibility), these stubborn senators would soon suffer whipping at the polls. Salonga, alongside Pimentel, ran for president and vice-president, respectively, in 1992 and was roundly defeated. They placed last among six contenders for the same position. 

Unlike the 1991 version, today’s Senate appears more driven by public perception than the moral suasion of what they believe in, especially on matters of national interests whose ends require ways and means that go beyond individual preferences. People learn their lessons, and politicians are better off being popular than being grounded in character.

Today’s leaders, rightly or wrongly, may even raise the issue of the Senate’s non-ratification of the treaty in 1991 as the lid that years later would open risks of territorial grab in West Philippine Sea. The establishment of an independent foreign policy would always remain ideal; but pragmatism comes around to knock idealism crashing back to earth, as the country now endures the constant threat of aggression by another country. Aquino’s predecessor, Marcos Sr., played the China card to compel the US support for his floundering government, and the Senate of 1991 has no card to play except national pride for having won democracy back from the dictator.

Rightly or wrongly, today’s leaders are wary of Duterte who, as the vice president, can be president in the future, maybe sooner than later. Let no one forget that she is the daughter of a former president who embraced China in such a scale similar to how he despised the US. She has said nothing inimical against China despite its rank disrespect of the country’s territorial rights.

This is the same person who now stands accused before the Senate for allegedly committing several impeachable offenses, including graft and corruption. The Senate looks at the allegations like they are inconsequential, judging from the way it keeps moving the penciled hearing date. 

Are the senators unable to cope with a heavy workload? 

Long hours of committee work often go into significant pieces of legislation. But about the only task that both the House and the Senate are really good at is passing the annual budget of the national government. And that is largely because there is in it for each one of them. Being good at the task does not mean ensuring that people's money would be spent where its optimal use is offered; it means ensuring that each one will have a piece of the outsized and constantly growing budget by way of kickbacks.

Or maybe they are simply scared of Duterte. Once upon a time there was a magnificent 12. Now there are only 2. 

-------

The Manila Times, 4 June 2025


A must-follow Musk

 

DOGE's Elon Musk
DOGE's Elon Musk

"A must-follow Musk" was also published by The Manila Times on 19 February 2025.

Elon Musk heads the novel United States government's Department of Efficiency (DOGE). He is on a mission and by all accounts appears determined to cut his government's spending down to a bloody pulp, leaving what he deems as non-essentials gasping for air. Having the distinction of being the world's wealthiest individual is immaterial to how he carries out his tasks, I suppose, except that the world listens to what he says. While some people talk and others produce, he does both; that’s the difference between the one who is sensible and the other who is an idiot.   

What has he done so far?

On DOGE’s directive, the Office of Personnel Management has sent “a fork in the road” letters to some two million federal employees asking them to voluntarily resign. The blood-letting assault initially targets those with little or no job security. In Dubai last Thursday, February 13, Musk remotely told participants in the 2025 World Governments Summit that he was "helping 'America, Inc.' engage in a sort of 'corporate turnaround' that should include deleting entire agencies."

He further said that "it's kind of like leaving a weed: If you don't remove the roots of the weed, then it's easy for the weed to grow back. But if you remove the roots of the weed it doesn't stop weeds from ever growing back, but it makes it harder."

First to go was US Agency for International Development (USAID), the soft component of the US strategy for promoting its imperialist hegemony. More agencies suspected of heavily losing public funds to fraud are under scrutiny. USAID contracts have been summarily terminated, risking a flurry of suits from aggrieved parties. Already, a District of Columbia judge has issued a temporary restraining order that lifts the ban on disbursement of USAID funds for programs that existed before the Trump administration assumed office on January 20, 2025.

In less than a month, Musk's cost-cutting rampage has reportedly generated more than a billion dollars in savings for the US government. DOGE twitted on 29 January that "...85 DEIA related contracts totaling ~$1B have been terminated” in at least 25 federal agencies.

What Musk has shown with his actions is sensitivity to taxpayers. Somebody like him is what our country needed ages ago. The need for efficiency rises by the hour, given how the government limps under the weight of deficit spending and a mood-meter hitting at a high of 61-percent debt-to-GDP ratio. An indicator of a country’s ability to service its debt, that ratio has averaged 55 percent from 1990 to 2022.

Musk is antidote to political patronage and offers a must-follow template for Philippine politics that for so long has been exploiting government spending for partisan political ends. How malignant the political culture is becomes evident when weeds sprout in the bureaucracy. A quick example is the 315-member House of Representatives with nine deputy speakers. At least six of these deputies can be excised like an appendix without compromising the overall well-being of the institution, generating millions of savings for the taxpayer.

Another example, distant yet relevant, would be the establishment of over 200 government corporations during the rule of Ferdinand Marcos Sr. Most of these state firms hardly performed; they neither addressed the problems for which they were created nor generated profits for the government. But they built lasting vestiges of patronage, paying dividends decades later when members of his family recaptured the political glory they temporarily lost. His son, Bongbong Marcos Jr., eventually rose to become president, matching the level of success his father achieved.      

When Cory Aquino rose to power following a peaceful revolt that ousted Marcos Sr. in 1986, she offered early retirement benefits for those who wished to resign in ways that are similar to what Musk is doing now. The aim was two-fold: generate savings for a bankrupt government and trim the bureaucracy of its excess fat.  

The Aquino cost-cutting initiatives did not attract a following, however, as succeeding governments allowed the weeds Musk is wary of to grow and regrow. Under the Department of Agriculture (DA), we have bureaus of plant industry, animal industry, a national dairy industry, a carabao center, a rice research institute, a national food authority, among a bunch of other attached offices, and yet we import heavily on rice, beef, livestock, dairy, and other agricultural products. It is time for a Musk-like surgery involving agencies that do not deliver.

The Department of Public Works and Highways depends on private contractors to get its job done.  Why not abolish it, hire a fraud-free procurement agent, and let local governments supervise the works?

Exploiting the bureaucracy for political patronage is perhaps less of an issue than ensuring the optimal use of taxpayer’s money, given that automation offers government opportunities to make its operations more efficient. The city government of Manila maintains hundreds of politically appointed personnel in its payroll, and many of them are tasked with keeping the records for its elderly constituents. Yet in more than three years of my being enrolled as one of Manila’s senior citizens, I have been deprived of benefits because city hall records are deficient. In a street intersection in Makati City, a swarm of city government personnel apprehended a solitary jaywalker (who happened to be me, having crossed one-fourth of Gil Puyat Avenue away from the designated pedestrian lane).

The twin goal of service delivery and of rewarding partisan supporters with public funds entails opportunity costs by which taxpayers can only hope they are served in some other way. Makati deserves credit for championing anti-jaywalking, but Manila, for its bum records in the age of digitalization, simply sucks. 

Let the politicians win the vote. But here’s hoping that, armed with an electoral mandate, they follow Musk’s lead to make the taxpayers happy. Management guru Peter Drucker once said that “management is doing things right; leadership is doing the right things.” Government is called upon not only to be efficient but to be effective as well.

My Lord, my God

"My Lord, my God" was also published by The Manila Times on 15 January 2025.
 

I TURNED 65 today. My story mirrors the changing mood of the past few weeks and shortly thereafter: from cheer to grief and back to cheer.

It is like how the feeling of joy during Christmas turns to grief during Good Friday in just about nine weeks. But Easter Sunday follows in three days, and a profound rejoicing awaits the faithful.

And here I try to relate my story — unfit as I am — to the irreplaceable roles of Mary, Peter and Thomas. Mary, the mother of Jesus Christ, did not doubt her God. But apostles Peter and Thomas did.

In a flash of an unguarded moment, Peter tried to save his own skin by denying his association with the master when accosted by authorities who were under orders to apprehend all supporters of Jesus. Jesus was already in the custody of his accusers and barely hours away from his death on the cross in Calvary.

"Doubting" Thomas was not a fan of hearsay. He dismissed tales his fellow apostles told him that Jesus was alive and, on several occasions, had, in fact, entered their heavily locked safehouse unaided. No one on their own had ever come back to life days after his or her death, in the flesh as they told him, so he probably doubted that even his master could pull off the unprecedented feat. Unless he saw it for himself, Thomas vowed not to take the news seriously.

Thinking of Thomas, I woke up one morning to find how I made it hard for the Lord to get me closer to him. Like many elderly people, I look forward to days of relative ease. And like many wage earners, this should be the time I start receiving pension and insurance benefits. None of them excite me. I did not save enough to qualify for any of those old-age incomes.

For one who started working at 19 and still grinding it out at 63, my career track is probably not a good model for young people who are about to join the labor force. Most of my employment (at least 23 years in government and about the same length of time in nongovernment and multilateral agencies) was on contractual terms with no employer-employee relationships. I did not get access to retirement benefits from them.

It was up to me to pay my insurance premiums, and I was remiss in this obligation. I also bought insurance policies from at least three private insurance firms on separate occasions but allowed them to lapse after contributing several monthly payments.

What I should have set aside as insurance contributions went to various investments that floundered. Somehow, I always thought when I was younger that I could outwork the system, including the provision for old-age pensions.

The past 12 months were particularly tough for me and my family. I knocked on doors to ask for gigs and all sorts of livelihood opportunities, but none opened for me like they used to. I could no longer sell my crafts.

Often, there was no hint of where our next sack of rice was coming from. Debts are in arrears. Some lenders threaten me with either court or barangay invites. Unpaid bills pile up. While waiting for the ejection notice from the administrator of the apartment where my family rented a unit in the city, my wife and I retreated to our hometown in the Visayas. This left the rest of my family to fend for themselves. I have two adopted children—a son who has his own family and a daughter who is in high school — who light up my days and for whom I am happy to toil.

There is a gripping sense of insecurity that brings everyone's morale down. The toughest part is missing the smile of my grandkids who I long to see after months of separation.

I cannot recall ever praying to my God, the same God of Peter and Thomas, as hard as I did. I asked for a livelihood in the name of my family, thinking especially of my children and grandchildren. The God of mercy, if ever he existed, heard none of my petitions. Or if he heard them, he dismissed them. For months, we barely got by even a pauper's standard; my wife and I lived practically from alms. Failure to provide for family needs turned pressure moments into despair. The pride I once basked in was gone. It reached a point where, like Thomas, I doubted the presence of the Lord. If he existed, I questioned the power of his presence.

And yet, despite the turbulence of my faith, I am here. For now, I appear to have survived — perhaps in better shape than millions more out there. Somebody must have willed it. While I sulked, the God of mercy was hard at work, after all. He may have ignored my prayers, but, to my belated realization, he provides something even for the undeserving. He dumped my wishes to remind me that I know nothing of his ways. The God I doubted and questioned did not doubt the capacity of relatives, my siblings especially, to offer help. Despite their own struggles, they kept me going.

May God grant us the time and strength to glorify him, to happily requite acts of kindness everywhere, and to justify the love by which he built a home for his people on earth ... and beyond.

Duterte's tarnished legacy



This article was also published by The Manila Times on 18 December 2024.

WHEN he was president, Mr. Rodrigo Duterte kept the nation spellbound for his awe-inspiring leadership. He held the grip of an enthralled, almost fanatical, mob of supporters. No post-EDSA president has enjoyed as much positive trust and approval ratings as he did.

Fellow politicians and officials of government competed for superlatives to flatter him. They pandered to him and pimped for his approval.

But now, as a private citizen, he is not above questioning. The perception that he plans to recapture political power either for himself or through his surrogates, and therefore seen as getting in the way of another politician's ambition, enlarges his portrait as an object of doubt. From sandy mounds of shifting loyalty, he pops up like cannon fodder. Hecklers are hitting him at will. Not that he is in unfamiliar territory; he has been around long enough to know how to hit and how one gets hit in the game of power politics. Democracy, after all, is better served not by goodwill but by the ambition of men.

A phalanx of committees at the Speaker Martin Romualdez-led House of Representatives has launched an investigation that uncovered the sludge underneath the glow of Mr. Duterte's popularity. Romualdez is a first cousin of President Bongbong Marcos and is rumored to be the administration's bet for the presidential election in 2028 and a possible rival of Mr. Duterte's daughter, Vice President Sara Duterte, for the same position.

Though panicky when he appeared before these committees, Duterte under investigation (DUI) should be a vindicating process for him if he is clean or a foretaste of hell if he is not. In the meantime, he must welcome whatever public forum is accorded to him. He enjoys a constitutional right that was denied to thousands whose lives his war on drugs had claimed. Most of these killings were reported by the police as unresolved and swept under the rug as DUIs (deaths under investigation).


That investigation, which is still ongoing and happening while another investigation has raised doubts about Sara's own integrity with respect to her use of confidential funds, dampens support for both Dutertes. For Mr. Duterte especially, the investigation has punched holes in a reputation that he built for decades, starting as mayor of Davao City. He was acclaimed for a leadership brand that was almost synonymous with political will and one that separated him from other political leaders. But that same reputation now looks like a façade, one that is mounted on a pile of lies and is about ready to crumble.

For how long will Duterte's world of make-believe keep spinning?

Between now and up to the time the people find merit in the House quad committee report exposing his lies is what should be left before a grand deception is undressed for what it is.

Citing sworn statements and testimonies presented before it, the quad committee the other day revealed what it found after conducting 13 days of fact-finding sessions on the drug war waged by the previous administration. The salient findings are damning: that the former president was the lord of all drug lords; that while he projected the image of an uncompromising champion of the herculean fight against illegal drugs, he was at the center of a criminal enterprise; and that this mafia-like enterprise diversified into fraudulent transactions that showed how his minions took advantage of the government's flawed procurement system and the corruption of state regulatory agencies.

Even before he became president, Duterte's association with Michael Young, who operated several shabu laboratories in Davao City, ticks key boxes that show the former president was himself a protector and gang leader among drug lords, according to Arturo Lascanas. The quad committee probe started and may end with Lascanas, the retired policeman who admitted being one of then Mayor Duterte's hitmen. The Lascanas affidavit — the same statement that charges Duterte for crimes against humanity in a complaint filed with the International Criminal Court in The Hague — underpins the committee's key findings that debunk Duterte being the anti-illegal drug champion that he projected himself to be, but rather the lord of all drug lords in the southern Philippines.

When he became president, Duterte appointed Michael Yang, a foreigner, as his economic adviser. Yang would soon be found entrenched in government transactions overflowing with money. From the importation of multi-billion illegal drugs through the Bureau of Customs to multi-billion procurement of medical supplies and vaccines during the Covid-19 pandemic, many of them left to rot due to their substandard quality and to the rise of Pagcor-sanctioned Philippine online gaming operations (POGOs) in the country, probers could see the hand of the omnipresent Yang and his associates.

But nothing draws more suspicion to what Duterte did than the killings that happened during his dreaded war on drugs campaign. How could one kill an average of 39 suspects in one day during the first two years of his administration? What used to be hushed up when he was president, the information that shows how he rewarded the killers with money sourced from public funds, became public through the quad committee hearings. The incentive apparently worked as the killers, many of them in police uniform, went berserk. In short, Duterte used taxpayer money to kill a crime through criminal means.

Up to this point, many people believe that Duterte gets things done in ways that no other president could do. His do-something reputation remains solid up to this point. But like all things built on shifting sand, his legacy may not endure the test of time, especially under the rigor of hostile questioning. His legacy is blighted not by the questioning but by doubts that prompted the questions.

Building his image as a crime buster was costly and, in large part, paid for with the lives of thousands of mostly poor suspects. That cost can neither be counted nor paid in cash, even if one has the combined wealth of Manny Villar and Elon Musk. The lives lost cannot be replaced by any mortal power, even by a direct descendant of Abraham.

What Duterte has is a golden but fake image. The quad committee report now suggests that he used this image to conceal the truth about himself being a big dawg, the lord of drug lords, and one that must not get away from further investigation.

Machiavelli fails Rodrigo Duterte

Machiavelli fails Rodrigo Duterte was also published by The Manila Times on 16 October 2024. Photo credit: Manila Times cartoon.


NICCOLO Machiavelli's "The Prince" is every politician's handbook. Published five years after he died in 1527, the book is timeless and remains a handy pragmatic guide for rulers who need to stay in power. What it lacks is practical advice on how to prepare them for life when they are out of power.

Former president Rodrigo Duterte ran Machiavelli's playbook to perfection while he was the prince. But given that he now finds himself in a hostile political environment, what he needs now, apart from trying to regain a portion of his principality by seeking another term as mayor of Davao City, is to unlearn Machiavelli.

The Prince teaches rulers to rationalize the opportunity to use manipulation, deceit and ruthless tactics to keep their throne. Machiavelli thinks that deception is part of realpolitik's terrain. He says that it is wise for a politician to apply cunning and manipulation to get what he wants. Navigating through the rough and complex political tides requires both candor and bluffing or subterfuge.

Benefiting from hindsight on how Duterte ran the government when he was president, one can tell how he applied those Machiavellian tips, along with the following:

– A ruler must project wisdom, virtue and strength, even if he is the actual opposite in private. Machiavelli advises that "it is better for a prince to be feared than loved if he cannot be both, as fear is a more reliable means of maintaining control."

– A strong and loyal military is essential for maintaining one's grip on political power and thwarting potential threats to his or her reign.

Duterte, through projection and messaging, instilled fear in the minds of his subjects. He cursed and pointed fingers at his enemies, both real and imagined. He threatened suspected criminals with physical harm and went on to preside over a war on drugs that killed thousands of them. He wished ill health to those who he imagined were trying to undermine him, including government workers such as state auditors and those tasked with promoting human rights.

On the other hand, he pampered the men in uniform with promises of better pay. He increased their retirement benefits. He appointed many of them to high positions in government. And, if the revelations that are coming out of an ongoing congressional investigation are any indication, he offered monetary rewards to the police for every kill they carried out during the war on drugs.

The intended effect of doing what Machiavelli preaches was achieved. People feared him, and nobody dared call him the naked emperor that he was. (A few exceptions would have included then-justice secretary Leila de Lima, who attempted to investigate him when he was mayor of Davao City, but she ended up in jail when Duterte became president.) The military and the police were at his beck and call, ensuring the administration's agenda got the support it needed, including allowing the entry of Philippine offshore gaming operators (POGOs) that brought to our shores what would be like Trojan horses loaded with untold security risks.

Duterte must have made Machiavelli proud. The people regarded his presidency highly. Surveys conducted by SWS, Pulse Asia, Publicus Asia and OCTA Research showed that his approval ratings hovered at an average of 75 percent throughout the six years of his term. Pollsters considered him the most popular among post-EDSA presidents. In this respect, it is hard to dispute the Machiavelli effect on creating the mythical dome of Duterte's popularity, one that influenced how the people both feared and loved him. What is suspect is how he now copes with an administration that, halfway into its term, is busy competing for people's approval that used to be his and mostly on a broadside that must be made public at his expense.

A foretaste of that broadside has been served on the table by the ongoing congressional investigations that, seeking prompts in aid of legislation, may likewise be motivated by either a pure desire to unearth hidden truths and rectify past errors or create power shifts designed to raise a contender to the throne at the expense of another.

The quad committee at the House of Representatives has just elicited from former police colonel and Philippine Charity Sweepstakes Office general manager Royina Garma the information that Duterte was on top of the drug war operation that offered output-based monetary rewards to policemen who killed drug suspects. To a person with a modicum of a sense of moral balance, such a charge should damn Duterte to the pain of being subjected to further investigation.

At the Senate, Sen. Risa Hontiveros has succeeded in steering an investigation that exposed the disease that the POGO has brought to the country and the extent it has infected the bureaucracy. The criminal content and security risks that are associated with POGOs are also, bit by bit, being attributed to the handiwork of Duterte associates. Then there is Pastor Apollo Quiboloy, the "Appointed Son of God," no less, getting undressed also by the senator as a rapist and a trafficking bandit, who happens to have a mutual fan club with Duterte and Sens. Robinhood Padilla and Cynthia Villar, among others.

And yet, it is less about the former president and more about the future president now. As the shift of political tides clears the ground for the skinning of Rodrigo Duterte, they also create the conditions for the rise of single-use henchmen that will blunt the launch of Vice President Sara Duterte for the presidency in 2028. Where before she had one of her feet planted inside the presidential door, further grooming of the daughter with her father's popularity, built on the murder of thousands of drug suspects, is now a debatable proposition.

Either of them needs to unlearn a little of Machiavelli and try to understand that shortcuts in governance, and more particularly in the administration of justice that result in summary killings, create more problems in the long term than they cure. Part of the former president's come-on is the perceived method by which he provided swift justice for the oppressed (the same perception that is creating the Tulfo brothers). Such a perception becomes more compelling at a time when people's faith in our judicial system is so low and disgustingly prone to corruption. Past, present and future rulers would instead do well to strengthen the judicial system and make it more responsive to the plight of the poor.

Less Machiavelli and more system retrofitting is not only good for institution building, but it also protects the ruler from future headwinds when he or she is out of power. It is not true that the ogre never dies; they do, except that they get resurrected in the next guy who is equally power-hungry as you once were. Democracy is served, as the saying goes, not by goodwill but by the ambition of men.

Balangiga 1901: Did America fumble the bag?


Balangiga 1901: Did America fumble the bag? was also published by The Manila Times. Photo credit: The Manila Times cartoon 25 September 2024.

On Saturday, 28 September 2024, the province of Eastern Samar will commemorate the 123rd anniversary of Balangiga Encounter Day. Balangiga is one of the 22 component towns of the province (Borongan, the provincial capital, is a city). Republic Act No. 6692 immortalizes the significance of the celebration and has proclaimed September 28 as a special non-working holiday in the whole province of Eastern Samar.

The celebration aims to honor the valor and patriotism shown by the people of Balangiga in an uprising against American aggression. Hopefully it may also serve as a guiding light and a beacon of hope for a generation of Filipinos in need of another streak of heroism from their midst.

The Balangiga Encounter Day can be better appreciated with the twin backdrop of the last few years of the Spanish colonial rule in the Philippines as well as the Philippine-American war that raged from 1899 to 1902.

The Spanish colonial occupation started in 1521 when Portuguese Ferdinand Magellan, sailing for the King of Spain, reached the shores of Homonhon Island, which is also part of Eastern Samar. For more than four centuries, Spain controlled and exercised sovereignty over the archipelago that in 1542 another Spanish explorer Ruy López de Villalobos had named “Philippines” after Prince Phillip (who later became King Phillip II of Spain).

It took a while, a long while, but Filipinos, like all peoples and races, had longed to be free. Self-educated Andres Bonifacio co-organized the Katipunan with like-minded Filipinos who believed an armed rebellion against Spain was inevitable. From a resistance movement, the Katipunan eventually became a shadow revolutionary government. Its membership expanded rapidly, with smaller groups established in other parts of Luzon, as well as a few others in the Visayas and Mindanao. When an uprising did happen, starting sometime in August 1896 when the Katipuneros tore their cedula in Caloocan in what would be called “Cry of Pugad Lawin,” or “Cry of Balintawak,” the march for freedom had crossed its Rubicon.

The revolutionaries succeeded in many of the local battles, especially in the province of Cavite where Emilio Aguinaldo showed his military and organizational skills. In 1897, the revolution lost some of its steam, at least temporarily, when partisan conflicts between Aguinaldo’s Magdalo forces and Bonifacio’s Magdiwang troopers led to the latter’s trial for treason, among other trumped-up charges, before a tribunal sanctioned by Aguinaldo. Bonifacio was eventually found guilty and executed. Before his death, Bonifacio (obviously the more radical of the two) also accused Aguinaldo of treason for trying to forge a peace agreement with the Spanish authorities.

In December 1897, Aguinaldo signed the Pact of Biak-na-Bato to end the armed conflict with Spain. Aside from the cessation of hostilities, the peace agreement required Aguinaldo to dissolve his revolutionary government and for Spain to indemnify the revolutionaries in the amount of close to a million Mexican pesos. Aguinaldo and several revolutionary officials went on a voluntary exile to Hong Kong where they nevertheless continued to reorganize the revolutionary government.

The sinking of USS Maine in Cuba (caused by an internal explosion which the US government blamed on Spanish forces) ignited the Spanish-American war in April 1898. Cuba was itself in the middle of a struggle to free itself from the colonial rule of Spain, and the US, helping the cause of Cuba, went into a war against Spain that spilled over across the globe, reaching Spanish territories that included the Philippines.

The enemy of the enemy was a friend. In May 1898, Commodore George Dewey of the US Navy Asiatic Squadron fished Aguinaldo from Hong Kong and sailed for Manila to help the Filipinos crush the remnants of Spanish military forces in the Philippines. Aguinaldo declared Philippine independence a month later in Kawit, Cavite, his hometown, capping centuries of struggle for consensus among Filipinos divided on the means by which to achieve self-rule and the molding of a national identity. Dewey’s troops were among those who witnessed the unfurling of the Philippine flag and public singing of “Lupang Hinirang” (the Philippine National Anthem).

But the deception was yet to unravel. On 13 August 1898, the US and Spain sparred in what came to be known as the mock battle of Manila. Although there were a few casualties (sh*t happened, to borrow the words of then Philippine National Police Chief, now Senator, Ronald De La Rosa, ruing the death of an infant while waging then President Rodrigo Duterte’s war on drugs) it was staged to save Spain from the embarrassment of its surrender to the Filipinos and to preempt Aguinaldo and his men from taking control of the colony’s premier city. A few deaths from the ranks of Spanish forces were attributed to Filipinos who thought the Spaniards were indeed battling the Americans. 

Eight months later, in December 1898, the US and Spain signed the Treaty of Paris to end their armed conflict with zero participation by any Philippine representative during the negotiations. The treaty ushered in the rise of the US as a global player and supplanted Spain as the world’s imperial power. The peace agreement required Spain to relinquish its title and sovereign claim over territories such as the islands of Puerto Rico, Guam, West Indies and the Philippines. The discussion on what to do with the Philippines was contentious. Spain hesitated to part the entire archipelago to the incoming colonizer, but eventually relented when the US offered twenty million dollars to sweeten the deal.

Voting 57-27, the US Senate barely passed the required two-thirds vote to ratify a treaty. Senator Albert Beveridge, who voted in favor of the treaty and one of the loudest American voices calling for the annexation of the Philippines, opened one of his 1900 speeches on the floor of the senate with these words:

“MR. PRESIDENT, the times call for candor. The Philippines are ours forever, "territory belonging to the United States," as the Constitution calls them. And just beyond the Philippines are China's illimitable markets. We will not retreat from either. We will not repudiate our duty in the archipelago. We will not abandon our opportunity in the Orient…”

Emilio Aguinaldo was clueless about the Treaty of Paris. He did not know that Spain sold his country to the US like a piece of real estate property. When he did know the whole scheme, the grand imperialist shebang, he had no option but to wage another war. 

Here then was a riveting sight of Aguinaldo fighting the Spaniards one day and the Americans on the next day. This was getting tougher and tougher for him and his valiant men. Superior enemy resources forced Aguinaldo to mount a guerilla war from the fringes against the Americans. Unfortunately for him and the cause of resistance against foreign invaders, the Americans, with the help of Filipino collaborators, tracked him down in March 1901 in Isabela, leading to his capture. A month later, the first president of the Philippine republic took his oath of allegiance to the new colonial master.

And yet, despite Aguinaldo’s arrest, pockets of rebellion persisted in other parts of the country, notably in Samar Island (which Congress in 1965 divided into three provinces—Northern Samar, Samar, and Eastern Samar) and in Mindanao, where the Moro rebellion raged until 1913.

Although minimal in proportion to Filipino losses, the protracted war continued to claim the lives of American soldiers (with estimates of over 4,200 Americans and over 20,000 Filipinos having died in combat).  

The US could not accept belligerence, especially when the American press was giving equal space to anti-annexation sentiments. To quote Beveridge, the champion orator, again:

This war is like all other wars. It needs to be finished before it is stopped. I am prepared to vote either to make our work thorough or even now to abandon it. A lasting peace can be secured only by overwhelming forces in ceaseless action until universal and absolutely final defeat is inflicted on the enemy. To halt before every armed force, every guerrilla band, opposing us is dispersed or exterminated will prolong hostilities and leave alive the seeds of perpetual insurrection.

In August 1901, the American government sent Company C of the 9th U.S. Infantry Regiment to Balangiga as part of a strategy to consolidate its military positions throughout the Philippines. The Americans employed carrot and stick approaches to win the loyalty of their subjects. But the Samareños were hard to please. In fact, they soon resented their being hosts to what turned out to be overbearing guests. A month later, on 28 September 1901, hundreds of able-bodied men of Balangiga and neighboring towns, armed with bolos and a few locally made muskets, swarmed the Americans in a surprise early morning attack. Thirty-six of 74 Americans were killed on the spot, 8 more died days later from the wounds they suffered. This was, according to some historical accounts, the "worst defeat of United States Army soldiers since the Battle of the Little Bighorn in 1876."

The US Army’s response to the uprising was brutal. American General Jacob H. Smith directed a “six-day killing and burning” spree in Balangiga and neighboring towns that killed some 2,000 civilians on top of over 200 houses that were razed to the ground.

The Americans also carted away three church bells in Balangiga as war mementos. The US kept these relics in its possession until 2018, way much longer than the antagonists had mended their relations, evolving from foe to friend. During World War II, when in 1941 Japan attacked British and US territories in Asia and the Pacific that included the Philippines, Filipino soldiers fought side-by-side with Americans against the new aggressors.

In 1951, five years after the Philippines gained its independence from the US, both countries signed a Mutual Defense Treaty (MDT) that required one to support the other in the event a third party militarily attacks either of them. The Philippines was in good shape, at least in economic terms, during much of the time that it enjoyed the initial years of its being an independent and sovereign state. Until its political leaders lost their way, committing their country and people to questionable debts that hardly serve the interest of the public.

If Beveridge were alive today, he must be in for the shock of his life to see how his 1900 vision had played out. Instead of America exploiting the limitless China market, the Asian economy has grown as large as that of his own country. It has now become almost impossible for American companies to compete with their Chinese counter parts on a global scale. Eight of the ten richest individuals in the Philippines and most ASEAN-member countries are either Chinese or of Chinese descent.

In terms of both economic and military expansionism, Beveridge’s America fumbled it. The MDT has not even prevented China from using military and paramilitary means to grab pieces of the territories within the Philippines’ Exclusive Economic Zone. Of course, much of the Philippine problem lies within its government—because, sadly, gone are the heroism and patriotic bent exemplified by Bonifacio, Aguinaldo, and the people of Balangiga in 1901.  

Equally responsible for the economic and military decline of the Philippines, in relation to its neighbors, are the voters who keep sending clowns, quislings, and all sorts of misfits to high elective positions. What Beveridge said in 1900 resonates until today:

The most enlightened among them [Filipinos] declare that self-government will succeed because the employers of labor will compel their employees to vote as their employer wills and that this will insure intelligent voting. I was assured that we could depend upon good men always being in office because the officials who constitute the government will nominate their successors.

Let me quickly add that in today’s electoral landscape, political dynasties which often also double as the employers—meaning, the wealthy overlords—are instrumental in shaping how the voting will go.

Beveridge saw through the stuff that Filipinos were made of.

As a race, their general ability is not excellent... in all solid and useful education they are, as a people, dull and stupid. In showy things, like carving and painting or embroidery or music, they have apparent aptitude, but even this is superficial and never thorough… the common people in their stupidity are like their caribou bulls. They will quit work without notice and amuse themselves until the money they have earned is spent. They are like children playing at men's work.

His own race and his descendants are equally bums, of course, if measured from how he saw the world during his time:

“The power that rules the Pacific… is the power that rules the world. And, with the Philippines, that power is and will forever be the American Republic… Where shall we turn for consumers of our surplus? Geography answers the question. China is our natural customer.”

The way to reaping economic dividends through the hegemony that Beveridge dreamed of just detoured from America to China. And it looks like it will stay that way for a long while.

A quisling in uniform?

 

Photo credit: SVD

"A quisling in uniform" was also published by The Manila Times on 18 September 2024.

Lawyer Wilfredo Garrido rants against General Romeo Brawner, Jr., Chief of Staff of the Armed Forces of the Philippines (AFP), for allowing "his troops to starve to the point of death when help is available from comrades and allies…"

Garrido was commenting on a media report saying that living on "lugaw" (rice porridge) for weeks forced the Philippine Coast Guard (PCG) crew of BRP Teresa Magbanua to depart from Escoda (Sabina) Shoal, where the vessel had previously been anchored for five months (since April 2024), for Palawan.

His social media post on 16 September 2024 (copied verbatim below) reads:

THIS IS ON YOU, GENERAL BRAWNER!

If only you accepted US help to escort Philippine ships, Teresa Magbanua wouldn't have felt alone and abandoned. It wouldn't have been forced to set sail home.

However, you callously proclaimed that help will be forthcoming only "when our troops are already hungry, they don’t have any supplies anymore because our resupply mission have been blocked and they are on the verge of dying".

The effect on morale was devastating, not only on the Navy but on the civilian Coast Guard which has command over Teresa Magbanua. The latter cannot fight the Chinese alone - not with a Navy under express orders not to fight back.

What kind of commander, sitting in the comfort of headquarters, will allow his troops to starve to the point of death when help is available from comrades and allies? Only General Romeo Brawler.

Under these circumstances, the crew were forced to subsist on porridge and rainwater for weeks. With no relief coming except body bags, they set sail for home. They didn't have to obey orders to starve to the point of death. That is illegal, cowardly, against the Articles of War.

We lost Escoda Shoal. Not because of the Chinese. With Brawner as friend who needs enemies."

Escoda Shoal has practically been a combat zone these past several months. Efforts by the Philippine government to feed the Teresa Magbanua crew and replenish essential supplies for their use have been regularly met with often violent response coming from China’s naval forces. Chinese Coast Guard vessels have been deliberately goring Philippine vessels with regularity. At other times Chinese forces have shamed the Philippine flag and Filipino crews with water cannons. Wielding axes and armed with knives and spears, they have forcibly boarded Philippine vessels, puncturing inflatable boats, confiscating Philippine properties, and on one occasion causing a Filipino’s finger cut off.

In 1999, the Philippine government maneuvered the rusting BRP Sierra Madre to run aground at the nearby Ayungin Shoal (Second Thomas Shoal) which then served as a stationary military deployment. A commentary at the Xinhua state news agency charged that the Philippines was trying to replicate Sierra Madre with Teresa Magbanua, warning that "China will never be deceived by the Philippines again."

Aside from violent and aggressive actions directed by China forces at their Philippine counterparts, Magbanua has also attracted the deployment of up to 250 Chinese militias and warships around the area at any given time. For how long the Philippine troops will be able to hold their ground is a question that only the government can competently answer. 

Did the AFP deliberately starve its troops, to the point of emaciating them to death, so it would have the pretext to exit Escoda Shoal without losing face?

With Magbanua out of the way, it would be harder now to conduct re-supply missions for Sierra Madre. Escoda Shoal is located 75 nautical miles from Palawan (630 nautical miles from China), while the Ayungin Shoal is located farther to the west (105 nautical miles from Palawan).

After Bajo De Masinloc (120 nautical miles west of Luzon and about 469 nautical miles from mainland China), are we seeing the last of Escoda, and eventually Ayungin Shoal, as part of Philippine-controlled territory?

Bajo De Masinloc (also called Panatag and/or Scarborough Shoal) where earlier this month Chinese planes shot flares at the path of a Philippine Air Force plane flying over it on a routine maritime patrol, was the same site when, in 2012, a Escoda Shoal-like standoff happened between the Philippine and Chinese governments. We lost the stare down challenge there and left with tails between our legs. Although we continue to assert sovereignty over the shoal as part of our exclusive economic zone (EEZ), China has since then taken control—and exercised possession—of it.

The Philippines took China, which claims territorial jurisdiction over practically the entire South China Sea, to court to establish sovereign rights over its EEZ, in accordance with international law, within the West Philippine Sea. In 2016, the Permanent Court of Arbitration (PCA) in The Hague ruled in favor of the Philippines, rejecting China’s claims; the latter, however, recognized neither the court’s proceedings nor its ruling.

With a new mandate as president of the country, Mr. Rodrigo Duterte did not press China to respect the PCA ruling. Instead, he profusely expressed his love for China and its leader, Xi Jinping, even to the point of thrash talking his own country’s Constitution (which tasks the government to protect the country’s territorial integrity at all costs, or, figuratively at least, over the president’s dead body) in the defense of a position that rationalizes losing parts of the territory if that is what it would take to avert a shooting war that could not be won.   

Duterte, of course, had shifted his weight depending on which half of his butt was sitting.

In a 2020 speech at the United Nations General Assembly, he said that the 2016 ruling was “beyond compromise” and, for emphasis, added that “we firmly reject attempts to undermine it.” A couple of months before that, he said in a State of the Nation address that he could not afford a war with China over conflicting claims in the WPS. He explained that "China has the arms—we do not have it. So, it's simple as that. They are in possession of a property.... So what can we do? We have to go to war, and I cannot afford it. Maybe some other president can, but I cannot."

Yet again in a nationally televised address, he deemed the Hague ruling as rubbish, despising it as nothing more than a piece of paper that he could easily dump in a waste basket.

And just weeks before his term ended in 2022, he said in a ceremony for the commissioning of BRP Melchora Aquino that “we cannot afford fighting with China. We cannot win and we will lose, and the population will suffer.”

Like his predecessor, the incumbent president has been pretending to be tough in the defense of the country’s territorial integrity. But the pretensions are easy to see. Unlike China that puts its military might where its mouth is—supporting its claims in the disputed waters by swatting away intruders and building new islands—his government could not even show support to those who are performing patriotic duties at the front lines, leaving the Teresa Magbanua crews to fend for themselves even to the point of seeing them dying from hunger.  

Most of our leaders have prudently cited the ominous suffering our people will have to go through in case a violent war erupts against any foreign power. That makes them sound authentic, ever on the lookout for the wellbeing of their people. It is also a convenient cope out; they do not lose face while risking nothing. What is not verbalized in equally graphic statements are the wealth and political power that they risk losing in case of a disruptive war.

Government officials, through their public pronouncements, assure us that we will keep Escoda despite the retreat of Magbanua.

The problem is that we have no shortage of quislings in government, as can be seen from how dismissed Bamban, Tarlac mayor Gou Huaping (alias Alice Guo) and those who created her have thrived. (The word “quisling” originated from Norwegian war-time leader Vidkun Quisling, who helped the Nazi invasion of his country during World War II.)

A quisling badge would normally apply to politicians, but with Garrido’s depiction of Brawner, I struggle not to see shades of it blighting the honor of our men and women in uniform. 



One picture damns a nation

CHEERS! IT’S THE HOMECOMING. From left to right: SILG Benhur Abalos, Guo Huaping (aka Alice Guo), and Philippine National Police Chief Rommel Marbil. Photo credit: Inquirer.net/South China Morning Post. 

The aphorism "a picture is worth a thousand words" attracted a following since 1911 when the members of the Syracuse Advertising Men's Club (New York, USA) met in March of that year to discuss their craft. A copywriter who documented the event quoted New York Evening Journal editor Arthur Brisbane as saying: "Use a picture. It's worth a thousand words." Since then, communicators of all shapes and sizes (e.g. advertising firms, propagandists, public relations agencies, media organizations and, lately, content creators, influencers and trolls, etc.) have leveraged the power of pictures to send compelling messages to their target audiences.

By rationalizing that it was for “documentation purposes only,” Department of the Interior and Local Government (DILG) Secretary Benhur Abalos perhaps did not mean to troll himself when questioned about a picture that showed him and Philippine National Police Chief Rommel Marbil flanking fugitive and dismissed Bamban, Tarlac, mayor Guō Huápíng (aka Alice Guo). But there he was, likely forced to explain himself after having surveyed the damage he caused to his own image when that picture ignited an uproar of disapproval from the public.

It is easy to see why a picture—taken on September 5, 2024, or hours after Abalos and Marbil had fished Guo out of her detention in Indonesia—of both gentlemen granting her with such a royal reception, who in turn acknowledged the gesture with a winning smile and the universally understood “peace” sign, is outright distasteful.

Abalos and Marbil are tasked with keeping communities peaceful and orderly, and which necessarily requires that rogue characters on the prowl are in check. Whatever it was that Abalos sought documentation for, nothing could be more damning than a picture that screams how he and his chief cop have performed badly in carrying out their task. Freeriding on the glow that belongs not to you is better left undocumented. The comparison between his cops and those of their counterpart in Indonesia is just too distant in his disfavor.

In June 2024, or a month before she slipped out of the country to evade authorities following an arrest warrant issued by the Philippine Senate, the National Bureau of Investigation (NBI) has confirmed that Chinese National Guō Huápíng and Alice Guo are one and the same. This single fact alone indicts the entire government, notably the present administration and its predecessor. With Abalos in that picture, he has doodled how he fits into the pattern of government agencies being bribed wholesale by Guō to get things done her way.

Except for the billions that the Anti-Money Laundering Council (AMLAC) has belatedly uncovered as having been credited to her multiple bank accounts, everything about Guo is fake.

Her civil registry record is fake. An NBI Clearance issued before she applied for late registration contained a picture of another person. Her Philippine passport is dubious. Her Commission on Election (COMELEC) files reek of deliberate misrepresentation. Her Assets, Liabilities, and Net Worth Statements, required under the law, are grossly devalued. Fraud paved the way for her ascent to being elected as a local chief executive, a position which is under the administrative supervision of Abalos no less. 

Because she is a Chinese citizen and a fake Filipino, she can only serve one country and betray the other. Some sectors, including the National Intelligence Coordinating Agency, consider her as a national security concern. Given her record, everything she says is suspect.

Guō Huápíng can be a traitor to a country she falsely claims to be a citizen of. And those who make her exploits worthy of publicity and, with their presence, lend a crown of halos to them, should attract scrutiny. Politicians who ran as Manchurian candidates, like the one who created her, covertly serve the interests of other countries.

Abalos said:

"Nag-request si Alice na kausapin kami ni Chief and sinabi talaga na meron siyang death threats and in-assure ko siya na death threats 'wag niyang alalahanin.”

That should make his photo with Guo even more revolting when juxtaposed with the one that showed a mother lifting her son from a concrete deathbed, blood dripping from his body, murdered by men in uniform who supposedly are disguised as vigilantes. Unlike other suspects and fugitives that have been stopped on their tracks while on the run, both are uncuffed; but one is smiling while the other is stiff. One has death threats; the other is dead. One has an arrest warrant; the other is, at best, a suspect, and, at worst, as snippets of information from an ongoing congressional investigation show, a fodder for padding the numbers to meet a state-sanctioned kill quota. One is messaging by Marcos; the other is justice by Duterte.

A side comment is that while most of the 20,000 or so casualties of Mr. Rodrigo Duterte’s war on drugs were poor, Guo is super rich.      

President Bongbong Marcos Jr. saw nothing downright damaging in what I prefer to call as the “homecoming” photo, saying “I think that is part of the new culture now that we ask for any photo.” He is correct. To downplay the value of the picture is to slap it with more opacity to better conceal the shortcomings of the executive offices of the government which he heads.

A shadow of this double-speak brings back an image of then President Fidel Ramos who went around chomping an unlit cigar. He wanted to show support for the tobacco farmers in the Ilocos Region while keeping the earth smoke-free. 

Which one did Marcos try to please: Those who are weary of Guo’s antics by suggesting he was on top of the homecoming? Or those who helped create a quisling in Guo, probably of the same cloth as those who did not mean to stop her but were not given any other option by the Indonesian police? 

The country is thus indebted to Senator Risa Hontiveros for leading a Senate investigation on the activities of Philippine Offshore Gaming Operators (POGOs) in the country. Her dogged pursuit of facts that give rise to revelations of what seem to be an unending string of irregularities made it embarrassing for the Bureau of Immigration, the NBI, the COMELEC, the DILG, the Ombudsman, the Philippine Statistics Authority, the AMLAC, among many other instrumentalities of government, not to whip themselves into action and perform the tasks that they should have been doing consistently, patriotically, and with integrity, a long time ago. The takeaway is that had even just one of these agencies been true to their calling, neither a Guō Huápíng nor an Alice Guo would have thrived in a country built by the blood of its heroes. It would have been hard for any of her kind to get around to even think of contending for any elective office in the first place.  

In short, with government regulatory agencies performing below expectations, we have reached a point where we put all the burden of electing authentic candidates in the hands of the voter. That, to me, is why the picture of Abalos, Guo and Marbil is worth a thousand words. It damns not only the government that Abalos and Marbil represent, but it also damns Philippine politics. It damns the voters—representing the collective interests of present and future generations—who are captives of a system that is so corrupted it shows symptoms of metastasis not only in Bamban but anywhere in the entire country—especially in areas influenced by political dynasties, drug lords, gambling lords, and, lest we forget, POGOs. That picture of a cheering trio sadly damns the whole nation.

For Maharlika Investment Fund, the pressure is on

For Maharlika (Maharlika Investment Fund, the pressure is on was also published by The Manila Times on 4 September 2024.


The Maharlika Investment Fund (MIF) is off to a slow start.


It needs to gain a more solid ground, and at a faster pace, to justify the hype and pitching it got from the proponent, the Marcos administration. It also needs to show results to inspire confidence in it from the ends of both the public that pays its bills and from prospective local and foreign investors in whose buy-in over the long term the sustainability of the fund will depend.


Otherwise, the fund at best remains a promise like how its critics had raised red flags to warn proponents against its creation.


Fourteen months after the law creating it took effect in July 2023 and twelve months after the diversion of public funds—Php50 billion from the Land Bank of the Philippines (LBP) and Php25 billion from the Development Bank of the Philippines (DBP)—for its initial capital financing was completed in September 2023, it remains at a stage of trying to figure out where it needs to go and try to make a difference.


The law itself—Republic Act No. 11954—allows the Maharlika Investment Corporation (or MIC, which is the administrator of MIF) to go wide and deep in its search for money making opportunities. It may invest in the capital markets; in joint ventures or co-investments, mergers and acquisitions; in real estate and infrastructure projects; loans and guarantees to, or participation into joint ventures or consortiums with Filipino and foreign investors, whether in the majority or minority position in commercial, industrial, mining, agricultural, housing, energy, and other enterprises, which may be necessary or contributory to the economic development of the country, or important to the public interest; and an unlimited menu of expenditures in support of sustainable development.


The MIF has a grand vision. In seeking inter-loping pathways to get there, there are risks that may well make it easy for anyone who takes the wheel to get lost. As it is, Maharlika seems to struggle in trying to find its niche.


Reports have it that the MIC is ready to invest in the energy sector within the next 60 to 90 days. MIC President and CEO Rafael D. Consing, Jr. has been quoted as saying that up to Php35 billion will be made available this year for its debut investment, which is likely to be in the energy sector. MIC Chair and Department of Finance Secretary Ralph Recto said as much, with about Php12 billion being eyed as possible equity investment in the National Grid Corporation of the Philippines.


By some discomforting coincidence, it was Rafael Recto, Ralph's father, who lawyered for the Bataan Nuclear Power Plant (or BNPP, a priority energy sector project) on behalf of the government. This investment—worth over Php130 billion when it was completed in 1984—was financed by a loan that took the government 46 years to amortize (until 2022). Two generations of Filipinos got nothing from their taxes.


In 2011, the Philippine government paid the amount of ₱4.2 billion to the National Power Corporation for maintenance cost (an average of Php40 million a year). Elsewhere, in 2012, the Sandiganbayan ordered Herminio Disini, a Marcos relative by affinity, "to repay the Philippine government the amount of Php3 billion for his role in defrauding the country through the BNPP."


And just to fully frame the backdrop of how a rudderless public policy works, a 1979 Letter of Instruction issued by Ferdinand Marcos, President Bongbong Marcos' father, stated that "the continuation of the [BNPP] construction was not possible due to potential hazards to the health and safety of the public"; but the first Marcos administration carried on with the project anyway.


We recall that experts (including economists from the University of the Philippines and Ateneo De Manila University, among many others) have questioned the merits of the fund from a public policy, finance, and economics perspective. But the second Marcos administration got Congress to pass in record time the MIF bill anyway. The milieu which the legislative process went through is hardly different from that of the one-man rule once presided over by Marcos Sr. This time, however, the railroading of that process has been questioned before the Supreme Court.


The traditional view of public administration argues for investments in social development impact sectors where it is not profitable for the private sector to go into. Instead, what is shaping up is a muscle being poised to compete with and box out the private sector. The reign of Marcos Sr. created more than 200 government corporations to address social development issues. They ended up being milking cows instead, rewarding a select few for their partisan support, and being continuously subsidized heavily with taxpayers’ money for operational support. With that record, the government has little to show to disprove the nagging notion that it has no business being in business. From vision to branding, the MIF’s whole shebang suffers from lack of clarity.


The MIF envisions to do both: being in business while trying to work for social leveling. These are parallel yet disparate objectives, never destined for coupling then, now, or in the future. Of its contradictions, perhaps nothing can be more telling than how its technical backers (DoF Sec Benjamin E Diokno, DBM Secretary Amenah F. Pangandaman, NEDA Secretary Arsenio M. Balisacan, and BSP Governor Felipe M. Medalla) phrased their statement of support in December 2022:


“Intergenerational benefits include increased access of future generations to income from investments, such as potential earnings from extracted natural resources such as in mining.”


The dominant worldview suggests that, all things considered, extractive industries like mining and logging hurt rather than benefit the present and future generations.


Marcos Sr. once proposed changing the official name of the country from Philippines to Maharlika. Did Marcos Jr. push the MIF to revive the message of his father’s call even with nothing specific to do in mind?


We note that sovereign wealth funds which the MIF idea took fancy from take their core identities from the name of countries. Examples: Government Pension Fund Global of Norway (which invests oil revenues to secure the welfare of future generations); the Russian National Wealth Fund (which supports the country's pension system and balances the federal budget in times of oil price volatility); the Australian Future Fund (a pension reserve fund); and the Ireland Strategic Investment Fund (which invests in sectors that deliver economic and employment benefits to that country).


So why Maharlika Investment Fund and not Philippine Investment Fund?


If it is at all any consolation, Mr. Consing has been heard saying that the MIF has so far earned Php1.5 billion from “placements” which, if done to buy government securities, simply means making money from present and future taxes.


That earning represents a 2-percent increase, if reckoned from the seed fund of Php75 billion. However, this increase is only on paper, because the average inflation rate during that whole time was 4.1 percent, which eroded the true value of MIF’s initial capital by Php3 billion. In real terms, therefore, the MIF just lost Php1.5 billion in 12 months. Moreover, the loses do not yet take into account the operating and overhead cost the MIF must have already incurred, which can be substantial as well.


One wonders how much more could have done if the monies diverted to Maharlika Investment Fund had remained with LBP (which declared an income of Php40 billion last year) and DBP, like funding start-ups, farmers’ associations, and small-scale enterprises.