by David Celdran

SO A former action filmstar-turned-President was forced to leave the Palace more than three years too soon (for him at least). But if the latest surveys are any indication, this has done little to dampen the enthusiasm of entertainers aspiring to join the exclusive enclave of politics. In fact, surveys also show that TV personalities running in the May elections are doing particularly well. Joseph 'Erap' Estrada may have bungled the greatest script of his life, but Filipinos do not seem ready yet to write off the denizens of showbusiness as potential public officials.

That Filipinos are preoccupied with celebrity and entertainment is nothing new. Entertainment is the subject of our conversations, the obsession of our media and, some might argue, a reflection of our national values. And the fact that celebrities capitalize on this phenomenon to embark on political careers while traditional politicians repackage themselves in the language and image of show business no longer comes as a surprise.

What is amazing though, is the steady growth in the number of entertainers seeking public office and successfully cornering political power—as well as the apparent new role of Filipinos as a very forgiving audience. What is happening is more than just the trivialization of our political values, but also the rise of a new power elite in society - what we shall call, for lack of a better term, "celebritocracy." Unlike the traditional elite and political clans of the country, the celebritocracy's control of power is based less on ownership and access to land and capital. Their currency is fame and their capital is the means by which to produce and transmit it.

The rise of the celebrity elite was, as they say in showbiz, no overnight sensation. Laughed off as nothing more than novelties by the country's elite, entertainers entering politics used to be treated as outsiders in a game reserved for the powerful and pedigreed. All that changed with the rise to power of Estrada, and a horde of other showbiz and media personalities. In the Philippine Senate alone, close to a third of the sitting senators launched their political careers by way of television and the movies.

There was, of course, no deliberate campaign among the entertainers to seize political power. The emergence of the celebritocracy is nothing less than a product of the traditional elite's own failure to provide effective governance to the public. Turned off by generations of corrupt leadership and empty promises, the masses lost trust and affection for the families that once lorded over Philippine politics. Increasingly, candidates with political pedigree and those who fashion themselves after the politicians of the past find themselves rejected by voters as trapos, ostensibly short for "traditional politicians" but also the Tagalog term for rags.

For the most part, showbiz and media personalities are perceived as the opposites of trapos. Since most have neither track record nor political experience to brag about, they conveniently evade the scrutiny of voters tired of corrupt and incompetent politicians. And with little historical baggage to carry around, they reinvent themselves to suit the public in the same way performers create an act to please their audience.

Another explanation for the rise of the celebrity-turned-politician is the somewhat cynical view that Filipinos have always treated elections as a popularity contest. The logic being that since politics and politicians have done little to improve their standard of living, the masses have learned to transform the electoral exercise into a competition not all too different from the local beauty pageant or cock-fight. The overriding objective, therefore, is not so much to determine a winner, but the entertainment value of such a process. This explains the festive and carnival-like atmosphere that accompanies every election and what many critics lament as the vulgarization and trivialization of Philippine elections. If such an observation were true, and indeed elections were merely vaudeville, then naturally, it is the entertainers and showmen that stand a better chance of victory at the polls.

But there's another factor that has catapulted showbiz personalities to political power: the Filipino's penchant to idealize movie and TV stars. In an entertainment-obsessed culture like ours, celebrities have embedded themselves so deeply in our collective consciousness that many feel, if not swear, of a personal relationship with them. After all, it is not unusual for fans to speak of their screen idols as if they were family and close friends—complete with imaginary tampuhan (mutual hurt) and true feelings of romantic love. And while the phenomenon of fan-culture is not unique to the Philippines, it is nevertheless expressed differently in the way it emerges in the local political system. In such a system, personal ties and loyalties are valued more than a candidate's stand on issues. Celebrities thus operate in an environment that is not only familiar to them, but where they enjoy a clear advantage as well.

But when Estrada performed so dismally at Malacañang, not a few expected major changes in this script. Unfortunately, it now looks like there are many in the audience who see Estrada's shameful Presidential stint as having little to do with the fact that he had no credentials, training, discipline, principles or any business whatsoever in playing Chief Executive. To these people, Erap's exit fits the archetypal fall from grace of the hero figure. Or in the realm of showbusiness, it is the story of the star victimized by hubris. Erap is the hero corrupted by the 'system' - and wine and women, quite literally, his undoing. The tragedy of Estrada, therefore, is an indictment of the business itself and not necessarily its heroes. If there is any lesson here, in fact, it is that showbiz stars should stay true to their fans and connected to their humble beginnings to avoid the temptations of fame and its destructive properties. Thus, the show goes on.