Tag Archives: reform

Qwertyman No. 142: A Long Learning Process

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Qwertyman for Monday, April 21, 2025

I RECENTLY came across a thread on social media urging Filipinos to boycott the midterm elections next month on the expectation that they will be tainted with fraud, as the 2022 elections were believed or alleged to have been by many.

When I looked it up, as early as last October when certificates of candidacy were still being filed, a retired OFW named Ronnie Amorsolo had already protested the elections, telling aspirants to not even run and calling the May 2025 polls a waste of time, energy, and money as they were already rigged. Political dynasties were making sure they would stay in power, he said, with the connivance of the Comelec and Miru Systems, the contractor for this year’s automated vote counting.

I can understand the extreme frustration of our countrymen like Ronnie who feel that the current electoral system is hopeless and that our democracy itself is a fraud given the seemingly unbreakable grip of dynastic families on our political leadership. But I disagree with his cynicism and with his call for a boycott. I think abstention will simply play into the hands of those dynasties and be written off as a virtual surrender.

To put it another way: if Leni Robredo herself believed in the futility of seeking change through elections, then why is she running for mayor of Naga? Granted, it’s friendly territory for the Robredos, but she could have symbolically stayed away to make a point. (There are, of course, those who fault even Leni for not protesting her presidential loss loudly enough and for wishing her opponent well, but I for one admire her for her graciousness and sobriety. I suspect she must have known that whether or whatever fraud may have occurred, much more work needed to be done to move Filipinos toward the light.)

As a longtime educator, I believe in learning—sometimes, the hard way. What’s happening in America now is what tens of millions of Americans didn’t realize they had voted for—but they did, and now they’re reaping the dire results; we’ll see in the US midterms next year if they’ve learned anything (and the Democrats as well, about their messaging). I’ve always thought that it will take at least two more generations before we Pinoys start looking for real merit in our leaders like the Singaporeans (whose inclination to self-censor I have always scoffed at, but for whom governance has become a learnable science). 

In the meanwhile we will keep making mistakes and keep paying the price—until we learn from those mistakes. Experience, they say, is the best teacher, but to learn from experience, you still need someone in the room to make sense of what just happened and what’s likely to happen again, if we don’t choose wisely. That’s what a good opposition should do—tilt against windmills and prepare to lose if they must, but give voters clear choices and alternatives. And the opposition itself has much to learn in terms of communicating with the seemingly unreachable. I don’t think it’s true that the only language the poor understand at the polls is money; a moving narrative of hope could work miracles.

In a very recent study titled “Elections Under Autocracy: The Opposition’s Dilemma—Compete or Boycott,” law professors Samuel Issacharoff and Sergio Verdugo point out that “Even in extreme authoritarian situations, opposition leaders should develop a pragmatic and strategic assessment of the political landscape. In many cases, the opposition should opt for participation while simultaneously exposing and denouncing the regime’s electoral abuses. Participation does not necessarily imply endorsing the legitimacy of a rigged system—despite the risk of elections strengthening the regime in the end—but instead serves as a means to challenge the regime, mobilize supporters, maintain political visibility and denounce abuses to both the domestic and international communities. By engaging in the process, opposition forces can highlight institutional flaws, document electoral manipulation, and create pressure for reform, even in the face of near-certain defeat. While acknowledging that outright victory is unlikely, there are there are compelling reasons for opposition forces to contest elections in authoritarian settings to be considered.” 

Remember 1985? If we had boycotted the snap elections then—and what a brazen act of larceny those elections turned out to be—would February 1986 have happened? It wasn’t just the plight of the military rebels that brought us out on EDSA; it was our outrage—and yes, maybe we just don’t have enough of that today, but push us some more, and it could happen again.

At this point, let me borrow some thoughts from a group called the Global Transparency and Transformation Advocates Network (GTTAN), which recently put out a statement in response to the calls for a boycott of the May elections: 

“While GTTAN understands that the boycott aims to express dissatisfaction with the electoral system and pressure authorities for reform, the reality is that with only three months remaining, any significant changes are highly unlikely.

“The COMELEC and the current administration have demonstrated little interest in implementing reforms, making boycott rallies an ineffective protest strategy.

“Furthermore, refusing to participate will not prevent the election from taking place. 

“Instead, it may lead to a sweeping victory for the administration’s candidates, as their supporters will still cast their votes.

“An outright boycott risks further weakening opposition to the government.

“For these reasons, GTTAN firmly opposes the call to boycott the elections. Instead, GTTAN advocates a strategic approach that includes: 

  1. Deploying poll watchers to oversee the voting process, including vote counting, recording, and reporting at each precinct; 
  1. Collaborating with and supporting organizations including political parties that are actively working for electoral integrity; 
  1. Advocating for citizens’ rights to review the automated election system, ensuring it meets transparency and auditability standards;
  1. Pushing COMELEC to maintain election records for a minimum of 10 years after each election and to make such records available for inspection by the public upon request; and  
  1. Educating voters on proper voting procedures and raising awareness to prevent election fraud. 

I couldn’t have put it better: engagement, not withdrawal, remains the activist’s bravest and toughest option. Whether those twelve names you write down win or not—or even get counted or not—you’ve already won your own battle against despair.

(Image from philtstar.com)

Qwertyman No. 113: My Lessons from Martial Law

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Qwertyman for Monday, September 30, 2024

I WAS recently invited by a student organization at the University of the Philippines to speak to them about my martial-law experience, given that I had been a student activist in UP during what we called the First Quarter Storm, had been imprisoned, and had, against all odds, survived into a reasonably comfortable old age. It occurred to me, as I entered the SOLAIR building in Diliman where the event was going to be held, that I had last stepped into that place as a 17-year-old activist back in 1971 (that’s me in the picture, second from right, in that building). What had I learned since then? Here are some points I raised with my young audience:

1. We were always in the minority. Even at the height of student activism in UP and in other universities, those of us whom you might call truly militant or at least progressive were far smaller in numbers than the majority who dutifully went on with their studies and their lives and saw us as little more than a rowdy, noisy bunch of troublemakers. And the fact is, we were still in the minority in 2022, which is why Leni lost (yes, even in Barangay UP Campus). This bears emphasizing and thinking about, because sometimes we fall into the trap of believing that since we think we’re so right, surely others must think the same way. Which brings us to my next point.

2. We have to learn to communicate with other people with different views. The phrase “echo chamber” often came up in the last election, and with 2025 looming, it’s even more vital that we master modern propaganda as well as the other side does. This means sharper and more effective messaging. Enough of those two-page, single-spaced manifestoes written in the Marxist jargon of the 1970s and 1980s and ending with a string of slogans. Learn how to fight the meme war, how to navigate and employ Tiktok, Twitter/X, Facebook, Instagram, Youtube, and all the arenas now open in digital space.

3. When talking about martial law, don’t just dwell on it as the horror movie that it was for some of us. True, many thousands of people were killed, tortured, raped, imprisoned, and harassed. True, the trauma of that experience has lasted a lifetime for those involved. But most Filipinos never went through that experience, adjusting quickly to the new authoritarianism; many even look back to that period with nostalgic longing. That’s proof of martial law’s more widespread and insidious damage—the capture of the passive mind, and its acceptance or denial of the massive scale of theft and State terror taking place behind the scenes. Martial law imprisoned our minds.

3. People change; you could, too. One pointed question I was asked at the forum was, “Why is it that some very prominent student activists turned their backs on the movement and went over to the dark side?” It’s true—many of the shrillest Red-taggers we’ve seen these past few years were reportedly once high-ranking Reds themselves. So why the 180-degree turn? Well, it’s perfectly human, I said, trying to be as kind as I could, despite being at the receiving end of some of that calumny. People can hardly be expected to stay the same after twenty or forty years. Even if many if not most of my generation of activists have remained steadfast in our quest of the truth, freedom, and justice, one’s definition of exactly what is true, free, and just can change. Some people change their stripes out of conviction; some others do it for the oldest of reasons—money and power, or sheer survival. I’m saddened but no longer surprised by brazen betrayal. I learned from martial-law prison that people have breaking points, and some thresholds are much lower than others. 

4. We have to admit we were wrong about some things. This will vary from person to person, and there’s a line that could even constitute the “betrayal” I mentioned above. Some fellow activists will probably disagree with me on one of these key points: armed struggle didn’t work, and it won’t, not in the Philippines nor anytime soon. However we feel about the subject, the fact is, one armed Filipino revolutionary force or other has been at it for more than 80 years now—“the world’s longest running insurgency” as it’s often been referred to—with little gain to show for it. I don’t mean to denigrate the noble and heroic sacrifice of the thousands who gave up their lives fighting what they believed was a brutal dictatorship—many were personal friends—but how many more lives will it take to prove the efficacy of revolutionary violence, one way or another?

5. That leads me to the last point I made to my young listeners: live, don’t die, for your country. We can and will die for it if we absolutely have to (especially us seniors who have little more to lose), but today’s youth have options we never did. In the 1970s, if you were young, idealistic, politically aware, and daring if not brave, you could not but conclude that something was terribly wrong with Philippine society, and that change was badly and urgently needed. You chose between reform and revolution—and it was only a matter of time before you became convinced that the latter was the only way forward. 

Agreed, the basic problems of Philippine society may not have changed much—but one’s ways and means of addressing them have. The growth of civil society—the proliferation of NGOs covering a broad range of causes and concerns—offers practical, focused, peaceful, and professional alternatives to young people seeking social and economic change. One need not embrace the burdens of the entire nation, only to feel inadequate or ineffectual; one can do much if not enough by improving the lives of families and communities. Beyond feeling sorry or guilty for those who fought and died as martyrs, do what you can as a living, intelligent, and capable citizen to create a better Filipino future to the best of your ability.

If this sounds like the voice of a tired old man, it is. I’m tired of death and despair; I choose to fight for life and hope.