THE CAMPAIGN

First-World Techniques, Third-World Setting

The X-Men: The Story of Activists-Turned-Political Consultants

With a Little Help from (U.S.) Friends

Campaigning, Filipino Style

Spinning the News

Campaigns on the High-Tech Road

Songs in the Key of Politics

PHOTO ESSAY

The Presidency as Image

ELECTION PERSPECTIVES

Elections are like Water

Between Tinsel and Trapo

VOTER'S VOICE

First-time Voter

Regular Voter

Non-Voter

Hope and Elections in Payatas

THE LIGHTER SIDE

Making (Non)Sense of Politics

Election Lexicon

Quickie Quiz for the Politically Insane

THE CAREER of Senator Gregorio Honasan perhaps best epitomized these neutralizing powers of suffrage. It was only about 16 years or so ago when Honasan was a central figure in our national affairs, who, together with his comrades from the Reform the AFP Movement (RAM), almost succeeded in grabbing power twice. After RAM signed the peace accord with then President Fidel Ramos, Honasan ran for the Senate and won. Many observers cite RAM's network as the crucial mechanism in Honasan's victory, but if we go by Franco's thesis, Honasan won because voters preferred him in the Senate than in the streets or the urban jungle, planning conspiracies against the government.

This popular preference, in turn, has something to do with voters recognizing that Honasan has certain principles with which they can identify. A May 14, 2001 Pulse Asia survey of voters' preferences for the Philippine Senate exemplifies this sentiment. Asked to rank the qualities of a senatorial candidate, respondents listed and ranked the following answers: (1) intelligent and knowledgeable; (2) fights anomalies in government; (3) relates well to others; (4) pro-poor; and, (5) has integrity. Notice that the qualities listed had nothing to do at all with political preferences or ideological positions. And while two answers approximate a political position-i.e., the integrity and honesty of a candidate and his or her "pro-poor stance" — these are also postures that can be effortlessly appropriated or included in any political program, be it right, left, or center. Honasan had all these attributes and thus people voted for him.

Moreover, a trait like "relates well to others" is so broadly defined that it could easily apply to a political leader versed in the art of patron politics or a champion of human rights who is deeply connected to the community. The phrase "has integrity" could mean either a RAM plotter committed to overthrow a regime he perceives to be corrupt, pro-communist and ineffective, or a nationalist defending Philippine sovereignty against an "imperialist" America. For these voter-respondents, these were the main criteria for rating candidates. The respondents see the politicians' positions on policy issues, laws, etc. as mere derivatives of these character traits. Honasan became senator because he had "integrity," was incorruptible, and had charisma. He was someone who could "relate well to others."

By electing Honasan, Filipinos thus gave him the opportunity to recover politically. However, they did so by placing him in a political arena not of his own choosing, thereby neutralizing him politically. Honasan was now forced to accept that conditions had changed. He placed ninth in his first electoral campaign, surprising even his critics. But a ninth-place finish in a 24-slot senate slate also suggested Honasan had lost some of the support he had when he launched his coups. He was no longer the center of politics as he had been when he led RAM. Instead, he had become one voice among 24, restrained by institutional norms and forced to negotiate with fellow senators — including those he once tried to overthrow — to have his programs and projects be subject to public scrutiny and debate.

UNSCHOOLED in the formalities of Senate work and unfamiliar with the typical backroom deals that enabled laws to be passed, Honasan looked lost in the Upper House in his first year. His contributions were modest and his participation in deliberations minimal. He somewhat recovered in his second year, only to be faced with criticisms from his former RAM comrades for not supporting their projects.

The laws Honasan supported were directed more at broader social welfare (rent control, housing law, solid-waste management, and the highly contested Clean Air Act), and less to the particular needs of his organization or even that of the military. Moreover, with the exception of the Clean Air Act, Honasan was never a champion of any of the above laws; he was content in being just one of the collaborators or co-signatories supporting their ratification. In the Senate, Honasan became content in his marginalization.

From then on his political stock reached it nadir. His support for President Joseph Estrada caused him votes; in the May 2001 elections, Honasan barely managed to retain his Senate seat, placing last among the winning candidates for the 13 open seats. His attempt to test the presidential waters last year was a total failure and his credibility suffered further when he was linked to the Oakwood mutineers.

There is incredible pathos here: with his fortunes fading, Honasan would regress to the thing he thought he knew best — coup plotting. But even here he would simply repeat the one consistent attribute of the RAM coups of the late 1980s: their inability to succeed. Today Honasan is back to the post in which he started his ascension to the political center — that of chief security officer, but, alas, to someone whose intelligence and political sense are a far cry from that of his former boss, Juan Ponce Enrile.

The addition of movie stars and news readers to the Senate in the recent years has diluted this legislative assortment, the outcome mainly of the increasing displacement by television and the movies — two of the most numbing channels of information and entertainment — of newspapers and radio, which are often said to produce more thoughtful and reflective clienteles. Public cynicism toward politicos has also gone unabated, partly as a result of blatant displays of opportunism on all sides of the political spectrum, partly because of the reality that the state has not done us no good, partly because deep inside many really hate politics but, like drugs, could not live without it. As compromise, many of us transform politics into entertainment, putting people who could entertain us even as we very well know that they also could lead us to oblivion.

Still, even today's Senate seems to exhibit an unexpected states(wo)manship as its predecessors had. This is reflected in the passing of two major laws: the Anti-Trafficking in Persons Act of 2003, and of late, the Anti-Violence against Women and their Children Act of 2004. It is especially notable that the proponents of the second law reflected an odd assortment of partners — the kin of political families and even warlords (an Angara, Aquino, Custodio, Joson, Lagman, and even a Marcos), NGO activists (Sarenas, Acosta) and senators of varying intelligence and performance (Estrada, Villar, Drilon, Flavier).