by Glenda Gloria

TORTURERS and coup plotters are not born; they are made by particular regimes and bred within particular contexts.

This could very well constitute conventional wisdom, but U.S. scholar Alfred W. McCoy gives it shape and human face in his path-breaking book on the Philippine military, Closer than Brothers. The title comes from the fact that despite their differences, graduates of the Philippine Military Academy (PMA) are bound by a sense of brotherhood developed at their prestigious alma mater that ties them more than religion or family does.

The newly released work, however, actually scrutinizes two PMA classes: Class 1940, the school's first graduating class, and Class 1971, easily the most controversial batch that the academy has produced. In the end, McCoy succeeds not only in introducing readers to the peculiarity of the mistah (classmate) system at the PMA, but also in weaving in the history of a troubled armed forces caught in a labyrinth of contradictions and a troubled country trapped in a love-hate relationship with its soldiers.

McCoy raises important points that should make readers wonder what kind of military President Estrada is breeding in his deadline-driven campaign against Muslim separatists in Mindanao. According to McCoy, the impact of a regime's major project involving the military can be deep and problematic especially on the soldier's psyche.

He asserts, for example, that while the Ramos administration facilitated a back-to-barracks scheme for former putchists, a kind of tension within the armed forces remains unresolved - that which involves preserving the status quo or rebelling against it. The tension is inherent in any military in a democratic society. Fraught with contradictions, it is a military that is "subordinated to politics yet apolitical, armed yet nonviolent, all-powerful yet powerless," McCoy notes.

Indeed, at every turn, past presidents (who also served as commanders-in-chief of the armed forces) had shaped the role of the military. The late president Ramon Magsaysay deployed soldiers in civic action work, in turn injecting an "element of political tension within the ranks," McCoy says. Even before declaring martial law, Ferdinand Marcos treated the military like it was his extended fiefdom. At one time, ostensibly to rid the armed forces of bad eggs, Marcos forced the retirement of 25 generals. In truth, he did this to reward those loyal to him at the expense of those who were not.

But PMA Class' 40 graduated at a different time and under quite a different president. They formed the first core of officers of the modern military created by then Commonwealth President Manuel Quezon during the country's crucial transition to full political independence. Class '40 left the PMA barely a year before the Japanese invasion, a period that fully impressed upon them the responsibility not only of serving the state that created them, but preserving it.

The Class of '71, meanwhile, joined the military 18 months before the declaration of martial law. Fresh from their regimented life at the PMA, the young lieutenants were pushed to fight two major rebel groups: the secessionist Moro National Liberation Front (MNLF) and the communist New People's Army (NPA). Nearly all of PMA '71 - except for Panfilo 'Ping' Lacson, the current chief of the national police, and a few others - were deployed in Mindanao's battlefields in the 1970s. If they were not firing guns, these soldiers were interrogating insurgents, torturing them, and plotting psy-war moves against them.

The situation prompted these officers to create their own rules. Says McCoy: "Though trained to serve the state, they gained the will, through these special operations, to become its master." Along the way, Class '71 became the defenders of martial law and its ultimate creatures, emerging with a "superman sense of themselves as creator/destroyer who could seize the state and transform society." It was this class that later produced the core leaders, including now senator Gregorio 'Gringo' Honasan, of the Reform the Armed Forces Movement (RAM), which launched coup attempts against Marcos in 1986 and his successor, Corazon Aquino.

McCoy concedes that one reason why Class '40 remained in the barracks while Class '71 attempted several times to grab power is because their respective rosters had leaders whose persona matched the varied situations they were faced with. But he argues that more significantly, the two classes operated under different contexts and were handled by different political regimes, therefore undergoing different forms of "military socialization."

According to McCoy, the use of torture as a counter-insurgency measure played a large part in the adventurous psyche of Class '71. In a rather passionate account, McCoy cites specific instances and subsequent interviews with RAM leaders as proof of the latter's obsession with power. That they did not reject torture could be partly attributed to their plebe days when they were subjected to violence through hazing, McCoy says. Hazing is power in many ways, shared in a code of silence that bonds men for life.

In contrast, Class '40 as a whole "maintained a posture of professionalism" even as they agonized over the temptation of playing politics. The book gives an engaging narrative of how some PMA '40 members squabbled over promotion, courted legislators to advance their careers, and decided to quit the army altogether out of frustration with patronage politics.

It is clear that McCoy enjoyed greater access to Class '40 than he did Class '71. He admits as much in the book. His post-EDSA articles had been critical of RAM, and RAM being what it was then was discriminating in giving access to journalists and researchers.

At first glance, readers might even sense a damning sketch of Class '71 compared to a sober take on Class '40. But Closer Than Brothers is more than this; it gives a broader framework within which to view the military - its structure, its unwritten rules, its officers' imperfections. Talking about Class '40, McCoy accurately describes the everyday dilemma faced by military officers: "Their ingrained respect for civil supremacy dictated obedience. Thus, separation of civilian politics from military power was not only the responsibility of the officer corps. Once civilian politicians saw partisan advantage in politicizing the military commanders faced strong pressure to compromise."

In many ways these PMA classes reflect much of what goes on in Philippine politics. The myth-making on Honasan, which McCoy harps on, is not RAM's monopoly; all rebel movements have their own myths. McCoy himself acknowledges the strength that can also be the weakness of his comparative study as a methodology: It is highly contextual.

But in the Philippines, context is probably all there is to it. Closer than Brothers should prompt a second look at military officers within the context of domineering civilian patrons - and a civilian milieu torn between embracing the good and rejecting the bad in the armed forces.



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