January 20, 2001

12:20 a.m.- Rene de Villa arrives in Mabini Hall, accompanied by now Finance Secretary Alberto “Bert” Romulo and now Justice Secretary Hernando “Nani” Perez. The first round of negotiations begins.

Rene gives me a draft resignation letter for the President, with the demand that the letter be signed and the President leave the office by 6 a.m.

“Otherwise,” he tells me, “we cannot control the hotheads in our group. Lulusubin nila ang Malacañang (They will attack Malacañang).” I answer that Vice President Gloria Macapagal-Arroyo exercise her leadership over these groups. I tell the negotiators, “I am sincere in getting the problem out of the way to normalize the situation as soon as possible.” We want no violence, just a peaceful transition, and I will exert all efforts to prevent any violence from taking place. The President has accepted that he will leave the Palace, I explain, but insists on the five-day transition period.

Rene wants to know why the President needs five days. “Why can’t he leave by 6 a.m.?” he asks. I answer: “I can only surmise that it is because (Armed Forces Chief of Staff) General (Angelo) Reyes has promised the President a five-day transition period. He would turn over the Presidency on the 24th. I was not privy to their conversation, but I can guess that the five days would be just enough time for the President to advise his family, friends and supporters of his decision to go.” The President did, after all, have a good number of supporters. I explain to the panel that he cannot be pushed to leave the Palace earlier, since he has General Reyes’ assurance.

I tell them that the President is quite certain of the five-day transition and will not easily change his mind into accepting a 6 a.m. deadline. Rene immediately  raises a concern: “What if the President organizes a counter-attack in the five days?” “Let us be realistic,” I counter. “The President does not have the capability to counter-attack. He does not have the AFP or the Philippine National Police on his side. He is not only in a corner –he is also down.”

Bert Romulo chimes in, speaking at the top of his voice. “My mandate is for you to leave by 6 a.m. Otherwise, if that is not accomplished, I cannot come back here anymore,” he tells me. For the sake of reaching an agreement, I ask all not to take a hardline stance. I explain that it takes time to convince the President, who needs time to accept things. I explain that “the President just wants to vindicate his name. The envelope (containing information on bank accounts allegedly owned by Estrada) is, after all, the spark that ignited his conflagration.” Rene answers that “vindication is not always on the day itself.” “But we have the occasion to vindicate ourselves now,” I reply. “Let us take this opportunity.” I explain that after the envelope is opened at the impeachment trial, the President can leave already –even before the five-day period is over.

I stress the three points most important to the President. One he will hand in his resignation, but to take affect five days later. The five-day transition period is crucial. If Reyes never made that assurance, he should call the President to explain that he did not assure him of the transition period. Two, there must be a guarantee of safety of the President and his family. And three, there must be an agreement to open the second envelope.  I tell them that I am “sincere in getting the problem out of the way to normalize the situation as soon as possible.”

Rene says that we should meet again at 3 a.m. I answer that we should meet at 7 a.m. since we all need some rest. But Rene tells me, “7 a.m. may be too late, since lulusubin ang Malacañang (Malacañang will be attacked) by 6 a.m.” We agree to hold a second round of negotiations by 6 a.m. The first round of negotiations ends at 2:20 a.m.

2:30 a.m- I return to the Presidential palace and enter t he small conference room where the President is waiting. With him are Sen. Juan Ponce Enrile and his chief of staff Gigi Reyes, Lito Banayo, Ronnie Puno, Dondon Bagatsing and Boying Remulla. I explain what happened in the first round of negotiations. The President immediately stresses that he just wants the five-day period promised by Reyes, as well as to open the second envelope to clear his name. If the envelope is opened by Monday, he says, he will leave by Monday. The President says: “Pagod na pagod na ako- masyado nang masakit. Pagod na ako sa red tape, bureaucracy, intriga. (I am very tired. I don’t want any of this it’s too painful. I am tired of the red tape, the bureaucracy, the intrigue.)”

I had been advising the President nonstop since the day before. The President pauses and tells me, “Mula umpisa pa lang ng kampanya, Ed, ikaw na lang pinakinggan ko. At hanggan sa huli, ikaw pa rin (Since the start of the campaign, Ed, you have been the only one I’ve listened to. And now, at the end, you still are).”

Boying Remulla pulls out a letter he has prepared for the President to sign. It reads:

By virtue of the provisions of Section 11 of the Constitution of the Republic of the Philippines, I am hereby transmitting to this Office this written declaration that I am unable to discharge the powers and duties of my Office. By operation of law and the Constitution, the Vice President shall be Acting President of the President of the Philippines.

Boying explains that with this position, the President will still enjoy the benefits of Presidential immunity and can resume his Presidency when he decides to do so. Ronnie Puno supports Boying. But I oppose the signing of the letter. It would only prolong the crisis, I say, since it would not solve the political problems that are taking place.

A discussion ensues, with Lito Banayo supporting my stand. I explain that this letter is not practical under the circumstances since it would be construed as a shallow attempt to hang on. This would be particularly bad since negotiations have centered on the President’s turnover of the administration to Gloria, and this letter would be clearly construed as a sign of bad faith on our part.

Senator Enrile is silent throughout the discussion.

I step out, upset at what Boying is trying to do. I feel that this is an ill-advised and bad move, and I hope that the President will not listen to Boying. Lito Banayo follows me, “Hindi maganda yung sulat na iyon (This isn’t a good letter),” I point out to him.

Macel stays on in the room. Later, she tells me, that she noticed that Boying approached the President and Senator Enrile several times when I was away, trying to convince them about the letter. She adds, however, that she thinks that the President will not listen to Boying.

4 a.m.- Senator Enrile says goodbye to the President, and hugs him tightly.

I am constantly on the phone with General Reyes, Titoy Pardo and Rene de Villa. Rene de Villa proposes two additional points for negotiations –that during the five-day transition period:

  • The AFP and PNP would function under the Vice President as national military and Police authorities.
  • The transition process would begin immediately, and persons would begin immediately, and persons designated by the Vice President to government positions would be immediately briefed by their counterpart.

I write down the five points of negotiation.

4:30 a.m.- After having explained them to the President, it is now time for the First Lady and for the President’s children who are present –Jinggoy, JV Ejercito, Jackie and Techie– to hear about the points of negotiation.

We start preparing the draft for discussion at the 6 a.m. meeting. Five points are hammered out based on repeated phone calls between myself, De Villa, General Reyes, Titoy Pardo, who have been relaying to me feedback from the Cory Aquino and the Ramos group.

7:30 a.m- Rene arrives with Bert Romulo and (Ms Macapagal’s spokesperson) Rene Corona. For this round, I am accompanied by Dondon Bagatsing and Macel. Rene pulls out a document titled “Negotiating Points.” It reads:

1. The President shall sign a resignation document within the day, 20 January 2001, thjat will be effective on Wednesday, 24 January 2001, on which day the Vice President will assume the Presidency of the Republic of the Philippines.

2. Beginning today, 20 January 2001, the transition process for the assumption of the new administration shall commence, and persons designated by the Various President to various positions and offices of the government shall start their orientation activities in coordination with the incumbent officials concerned.

3. The Armed Forces of the Philippines and the Philippine National Police, shall function under the President as national military and police authority effective immediately.

4. The Armed Forces of the Philippines, through its chief of staff, shall guarantee the security of the President and his family as approved by the national military and police authority (Vice President).

5. It is to be noted that the Senate will open the second envelope in connection with the alleged savings account of the President in the Equitable PCI Bank in accordance with the rules of the Senate, pursuant to the request to the Senate President.

We bring out, too, our discussion draft which reads:

The undersigned parties, for and in behalf of their respective Principals, agree and undertake as follows:

1. A transition will occur, and take place on Wednesday, 24 January 2001, at which time President Joseph Ejercito Estrada will turn over the Presidency to Vice President Gloria Macapagal-Arroyo.

2. In return, President Estrada and his families are guaranteed safety and security of their person and property throughout their natural lifetimes. Likewise, President Estrada and his families are guaranteed freedom from persecution or retaliation from government and the private sector throughout their natural lifetimes.

This commitment shall be guaranteed by the Armed Forces of the Philippines (‘AFP’) through the Chief of Staff, as approved by the national military and police authories- Vice President (Macapagal)

3. Both parties shall endeavour to ensure that the Senate sitting as an impeachment court will authorize the opening of the second envelope in the impeachment trial as proof that the subject savings account does not belong to President Estrada.

4. During the five-day transition period between 20 January 2001 and 24 January 2001 (the “Transition Period”), the incoming Cabinet members shall receive an appropriate briefing from the outgoing Cabinet officials as part of the orientation program.

During the transition period, the AFP and the Philippine National Police (‘PNP’) shall function under Vice President (Macapagal) as national and police authorities.

Both parties hereto agree that the AFP chief of staff and PNP director general shall obtain all the necessary signatures as affixed to this agreement and insure faithful implementation and observance thereof

Vice President Gloria Macapagal-Arroyo shall issue a public statement in the form of tenor provided for in ‘Annex A’ heretofore attached to this agreement.

Rene Corona stresses that the envelope can only be operated by the Senate President, and not the Senate sitting as an impeachment court, “since there is no going back to the trial.”

The emissaries also insist that the resignation should be signed today, Jan. 20.

Corona says that a separate resignation letter is a deal breaker, the absolute minimum, or the whole deal collapses. Macel mentions that the turnover should be sufficient since by the acts of the President, one can see that there is an intention to relinquish his position. Rene Corona answers: “You are a bar topnotcher. You should know that a resignation has to be an unequivocal act and should be in a letter.”

The second round of negotiations ends at around 9:30 a.m.

But without our knowledge, the President has apparently signed the Remulla letter, which is transmitted to speaker (Arnulfo) Fuentebella at 8:30 a.m today, Jan. 20. A copy is transmitted to Pimentel and received Monday, Jan. 22. We are not informed of this until Sunday afternoon, when I received a faxed, signed and transmitted copy of the letter.

This is the letter of resignation of Joseph Estrada, a letter that Palace negotiators were supposed to give to the United Opposition but never did:

I hereby tender my resignation as President of the Republic of the Philippines effective January 24 2001 in the name of national unity and in order to effect a peaceful transition of power amidst divisive political unrest.

In my sincere desire to improve the lives of our people, I have been privileged to have served our countrymen from the highest office in government. I had discharged my duties to the best of my abilities and with full faith in our people. And it had been my badge of honor to be a President of the masa, the common man –for indeed, I am one of them.

Though I leave the position as President of our beloved country, I only hope that our people shall always see me as the President of the masa. And I hope that history shall judge me kindly.

It was 9:30 in the morning, Jan. 20, 2001.

I was inside the Presidential Residence, tired and weary from a night of negotiations for Joseph Ejercito Estrada. The residence looked cool and tranquil, as it had been for many months that I had been its visitor. Very few people were moving around the first floor of the residence.

My senior Deputy Executive Secretary, Ramon ‘Dondon’ Bagatsing, was seated at one of the round tables. The head of the Presidential Management Staff, Ma. Celia ‘Macel’ Fernandez, was busy at the computer.

Only 13 days ago, I took my oath as executive secretary on Jan 6, 2001 to work with the 13th President of the Philippines. And the 13th day lasted two days. When I made the difficult decision to accept the position of executive secretary, only two things were clear in my mind and heart. One, I would serve our country with all my energy, ensuring that government would always be there for our countrymen. But more importantly, I knew that this was a job that I would          perform to the best of my capacities –till the end.

Certainly, it was this disposition that carried me through those final days, those final hours, and gave me the opportunity to witness history unfolding.

9:30 a.m.- After meeting with the emissaries of Gloria Macapagal-Arroyo, I return to the Presidential Residence with Dondong Bagatsing and Macel Fernandez of the Presidential Management Staff. Immediately, in a series of phone calls, Gen. Angelo Reyes and I agree on the wording of two sticky issues: the provisions on the President’s resignation and a  request to open the controversial second envelope in the impeachment trial. I also clear the final wording with Senate President Aquilino ‘Nene’ Pimentel.

9:45 a.m- (Former) Secretaries Jun Rivera (transportation), Mario Tiaoqui (energy), VG Vigilar (public works), Tony Cerilles (environment), Benny Laguesma (labor) , Quasi Romualdez (health) and Ronnie Puno (interior) arrive at the residence. The President’s friend Melo Santiago is also there.

11:00 a.m- Between General Reyes and myself, there is a firm agreement on the five points to effect a peaceful transition. I can hear the general clearing all these points with a group he is with. I hear voices in the background.

The agreement starts

1. The president shall resign today, 20 January 2001, which resignation shall be effective on 24 January 2001, on which day the Vice President will assume the presidency of the Republic of the Philippines.

Annexed is a copy of the President’s resignation letter. The rest of the President’s letter reads as follows:

2. The transition process for the assumption of the new administration shall commence on 20 January, 2001, wherein persons designated by the Vice President to various government positions shall start orientation activities with incumbent officials.

3. The Armed Forces of the Philippines through its Chief of Staff, shall guarantee the safety and security of the President and his families throughout their natural lifetimes as approved by the national military and police authority- Vice President

4. The AFP and the Philippine National Police (‘PNP’) shall function under the Vice President as national military and police authorities.

5. Both parties request the impeachment court to open the second envelope in the impeachment trial, the contents of which shall be offered as proof that the subject savings account does not belong to the President.

The Vice President shall issue a public statement in the form and tenor provided for in Annex ‘B’ heretofore attached to this agreement.

Former political adviser Lito Banayo had prepared the statement in Annex B:

I take this singular opportunity to commend His Excellency, President Joseph Ejercito Estrada, for his rare display of statesmanship in effecting a peaceful transition of power amidst divisive political conflict that has beset our beloved country.

Throughout this crisis, President Estrada has shown steadfast adherence to the Constitution and its processes, with the highest consideration for the national interest.

As he leaves the highest office in the land within the gift of our sovereign people, the Filipino nation and I salute him and wish that the true patriot who brought peace to our country in this transition find peace for himself.

11:00 a.m.- Radio commentators report that Chief Supt. Romeo Maganto has allowed the anti-Erap demonstrators to proceed to Mendiola. This prompts the Presidential Security Group to arm civilians in the Palace. Sensing that this will lead to bloodshed, I immediately call Gen. Reyes to order a stop to Maganto’s supposed order.

11:05 a.m.- Loi, the First Lady, and her daughter Jackie Lopez visit the Palace chapel. After praying for fifteen minutes, they exit the Palace. It turns out to be the last act of the Estrada family at the Palace. The PSG guards immediately lock the doors of Malacañang after they leave.

11:30 a.m.- I am all set to fax General Reyes and Nene Pimentel our agreement, signed by our side and awaiting the signature of the United Opposition.

And then it happens. General Reyes calls me to say that Gloria Macapagal-Arroyo is President and will be sworn in at 12 noon.

Bakit hindi naman kayo makahintay? Paano na ang agreement? (Why couldn’t you wait?) Reyes answered: “Wala na, sir (It’s over, sir).” I ask him, “Di yung transition period, moot and academic na?” And General Reyes answers, “Oo nga, i-delete na natin, sir (Yes, we’re deleting that part).”

Contrary to subsequent reports, I do not react and say that there was a double cross. But I immediately instruct Macel to delete the first provision on resignation since this matter is already moot and academic. Within moments, Macel erases the first provision and faxes the documents, which have been signed by myself, Dondon and Macel, to Nene Pimentel and General Reyes. I direct Demaree Raval to rush the original document to General Reyes for the signatures of the other side, as it is important that the provisions on security, at least, should be respected. I then advise the President that the Supreme Court has ruled that Chief Justice Davide will administer the oath to Gloria at 12 noon.

The President is too stunned for words.

12 noon- Gloria takes her oath as President of the Republic of the Philippines.

12:20 p.m.–The PSG distributes firearms to some people inside the compound.

The President is having his final meal at the Presidential Residence with the few friends and Cabinet members who have gathered. By this time, demonstrators have already broken down the first line of defense at Mendiola. Only the PSG is there to protect the Palace, since the police and military have already withdrawn their support for the President.

1 p.m. – The President’s personal staff is rushing to pack as many of the Estrada family’s personal possessions as they can.

During lunch, Ronie Puno mentions that the President needs to release a final statement before leaving Malacañang. The statement reads:

At twelve o’clock noon today, Vice President Gloria Macapagal-Arroyo took her oath as President of the Republic of the Philippines. While along with many other legal minds of our country, I have strong and serious doubts about the legality and constitutionality of her proclamation as president, I do not wish to be a factor that will prevent the restoration of unity and order in our civil society.

It is for this reason that I now leave Malacañang Palace, the seat of the presidency of this country, for the sake of peace and in order to begin the healing process of our nation. I leave the Palace of our people with gratitude for the opportunities given to me for service to our people. I will not shrik from any future challenges that may come ahead in the same service of our country.

I call on all my supporters and followers to join me in the promotion of a constructive national spirit of reconciliation and solidarity.

May the Almighty bless our country and our beloved people. MABUHAY!

As we are seated at the lunch table, the President received a call from General Reyes, who assures him that he can still stay at the Palace for another five days. But later, when the President asks me, “Ed, kailangan ko na bang umalis (Do I have to leave now)?” I immediately tell him: “Yes, Mr. President, for your safety and your family’s.”

1:30 p.m.- The sentry gate is locked.

1:50 p.m- General Diaz of the PSG calls on all detailed PSG personnel to gather in front of the residence for the send-off of the President. The President says goodbye to the people who have stayed with him until the end at the presidential residence, then turns around and leaves the staircase. I leave around this time, exhausted from the previous days’ events.

2:30 p.m.- The President leaves Malacañang and boards a barge for San Juan.

 


January 19, 2001

By 8 a.m of Jan. 19, along with Press Secretary Dong Puno, I met at the New World Hotel Senators Juan Ponce Enrile and Gringo Honasan, and the President’s defense lawyer, Estelito Mendoza, to sound them out on the proposal to open the second envelope. “If this is the President’s decision,” said the senators, “we cannot do anything.”

Sensing the situation was becoming critical, I called Macel Fernandez from the hotel to draft an Executive Order creating an ad hoc committee to monitor and manage the fast-swelling crowds in order to safeguard human rights and prevent violence.

At 10:22 a.m., I arrived at the Presidential Residence. Secretary Robert Aventajado, Lito Banayo and Dong Puno were already having breakfast. Only Mercado was wearing black. He was seated beside Macel. DILG Secretary Alfredo Lim was also there.

The President’s legal team, Estelito Mendoza, Andres Narvasa, Raul Daza and Cleofe Verzola, arrived soon after I did. Together with the President, Lito Banayo, Dong, Orly, Fred Lim and I went inside the small conference room of the residence to discuss two important points –the opening of the second envelope and the ad hoc committee to handle the demonstrations. A consensus was arrived at that the President would issue a public statement calling for the opening of the second envelope. The president also quickly agreed to constitute the ad hoc committee, with the executive secretary sitting as chair and the secretary of interior and local government as vice chair. Members would include the secretaries of Justice, national defence, finance, the press secretary, the director general of the PNP and the chief of staff of the Armed Force of the Philippines.

I had the committee members called earlier for our first meeting. All of them were present, except the AFP chief of staff, Gen. Angelo Reyes, and Secretary Pardo. The Nica, Isafp, PNP Intelligence Group and NBI head also came as support staff to the ad hoc committee.

Discussions on the state of security followed. “The military is 100% secure,” reassured Orly. I did not know that moments earlier, he had told Macel that government had to act fast, because in the last few days the Military would move. I also did not know that Orly’s vehicle that day contained at least 20 high-powered firearms.

At 1 p.m., Orly left the palace. He said he was just going to the office.

1:20 p.m.- The President calls me into his small office at the Presidential Residence (PR) and says in a somber tone, “Ed, seryoso na ito. Kumalas na si Angelo (Reyes) (Ed, this serious, Angelo has defected).” General Calimlim is beside him. On the couch sits Ping Lacson, talking on his cell phone.

The President could not understand why Reyes would defect, after he had consistently improved the soldier’s pay and welfare benefits. And he could not understand why Reyes, whose appointment had been extended by the President until 2002 just a few days earlier, would abandon him at the time he was most needed.

2:00 p.m- The President prepares to tape the previously prepared statement regarding the second envelope.

While the President is dressing up for his taping, Sen. Raul Roco calls me on the cellular phone. “Partner,” he says, “it’s time to take a decision. Perhaps you should convince the President to resign.” While I am talking to Roco, Secretary Alredo Lim is hovering around me and asking, “Who are you talking to?” “Raul Roco,” I answer. Lim immediately says, “Aalis na muna ako. Immobilize ko lang si Maganto.” (I have to leave, I will immobilize Maganto),” said Lim. “Hintayin mo muna si Presidente, nagbibihis lang,” I told Fred. He answered, “Hindi na, mauna na ako.”(Angara tells him to wait for the President who was dressing up. But Lim said he had to go.)

Chief Supt. Romeo Maganto, head of a task force at the interior department, reportedly allowed the protestors in Mendiola to get closer to the Palace gates.

2:30 p.m.- Secretary Lim leaves the Palace. The President, in a last minute effort to diffuse the situation and hold back the demonstrators, decided to hold a snap elections, and that he would not himself run in that elections.

I asked Senator Roco what he thought of the snap elections. Roco answered that snap elections might be very difficult considering there is no vacancy for the vice presidency.

2:45 p.m.- I invited Senate President Pimentel and Speaker Noli Fuentebella to come to Malacañang to ask for their opinion on the snap elections. They arrived at the PR and met with the President and myself. “There would be technical difficulties on the snap elections,” Nene said, “since the position of Vice President is not vacant.” Noli did not volunteer any comments. Nonetheless they asked the President to send them a written request.

3:00 p.m.- General Reyes announces his decision. I see on television that General Reyes is accompanied by Orly Mercado, wearing black. Orly had been one of the most trusted and favoured Cabinet members of Estrada and was president of Estrada’s Partido ng Masang Pilipino.

Considering that the President’s options at the time are limited to snap elections and still fighting it out, I pull aside Nene Pimentel and ask him if he could advise the president not to exclude other options. “A dignified exit or resignation might be the best way for him,” I said. The President listens intently to Pimentel, who volunteers to put the idea to Cory Aquino and get a feedback.

3:45 p.m.- I see on television that General Calimlim has joined General Reyes in withdrawing support for the President. He had been in the PR just hours before. It was now more crucial than ever that the PNP remain loyal to the presidency. Ping Lacson immediately said he would check with the PNP directors who were waiting in his office.

4:00 p.m.- Ping Lacson leaves the Presidential Palace.

5:30 p.m.- The President tapes a statement at the main conference room of the Palace calling for snap elections and stating categorically that he would not run. Friends and supporters rallied around him for support.

Ping Lacson called me to say that the PNP has decided to withdraw support for the President. He asked to talk to the President but I said the President was taping a message in the main conference hall. I promised Ping that I would call him back as soon as the President was free. I then crossed over from the residence to the Palace and waited for the President to finish taping to relay to him Ping’s message.

I have Ping called and the President and he talk over the phone.

6:00 p.m.- Ping Lacson announced on television that the PNP was withdrawing its support to the President. Ping said it was the most difficult decision of his life.

8:00 p.m.- I leave briefly to meet with several senators at my apartment to update them on developments. I arrive at the same time as Tessie Aquino-Oreta. Sen. Jonny Ponce Enrile arrives soon after.

9:00 p.m.- Before other senators arrive and as I start briefing Tessie and Johnny on the developments, I receive a call from Nene Pimentel asking me to join him in the Palace to meet the President. I immediately rush back to Malacañang. The senators met without me, with Senators John Osmeña, Tito Sotto and Gringo Honasan arriving after I had left.

9:30 p.m.- I arrived in the Presidential Residence to meet Nene and the President. Nene is already with the President inside the latter’s small office. They are JV Ejercito.

The President, Nene, JV and I meet in the President’s office. Nene repeats to the President the need to make a grateful and dignified exit, saying that he would be allowed to go abroad with enough funds to support him and his family. The President said he will never leave the country. The President also reiterates his desire that the second letter be opened. A letter is immediately drafted, where the President asks the Senate sitting as an impeachment court to open the second envelope.

Later, an aide says Cardinal Vidal has arrived and the three of us join the Cardinal in the main sala.

10:00 p.m.- After the meeting, the President tells me, “Ed, Angie (Reyes) guaranteed that I would have to a week in the Palace.”

11 p.m.- Rene de Villa, one of the opposition’s emissaries and now Gloria Macapagal-Arroyo’s executive secretary, calls to ask that we meet in negotiation.

I receive a call from former President Fidel V. Ramos.

“Ed,” Ramos says, “magtulungan tayo para magkaroon ng (Let’s cooperate to ensure a) peaceful and orderly transfer of power. It is important that there will be no violence.” I answer: “Of course, Mr. President, it is also in our interest that no violence will break out.”

We set the first round of negotiations in the Office of the Executive Secretary at  Malacañang’s Mabini Hall. Political advisor Lito Banayo, Assistant Secretary Boying Remulla of the Presidential Management Group, my aide Dondon Bagatsing and  PMS head Macel Fernandez are with me.

 

 


January 18, 2001

At nine in the morning of Thursday, Jan. 18, I received the officers and board members of the Federation of Filipino Chinese Chambers of Commerce in my office at Mabini Hall, headed by their president emeritus Jimmy Tang. We discussed how the federation could assist in employment creation especially in the countryside.

Immediately after Gen. Edgardo Batenga and Gen. Victor Mayo, deputy national security adviser, gave me a briefing on the MILF negotiations. A week ago, the President gave me the go ahead to resume negotiations with both the National Democratic Front and the Moro Islamic Liberation Front. The NDF had given a positive response and I had the initial batch of political prisoners processed for release.

I was voted by Senate President Aquilino ‘Nene’ Pimentel to go to the Senate and attend a lunch testimonial for two policemen who had died trying to defuse the Dec. 30 bomb in Makati.

Early that morning, I had received requests for interviews from the New York Times, Time Magazine and Newsweek. The foreign press must smell something, I thought.

At around 7 p.m of Jan. 18, Finance Secretary Jose ‘Titoy’ Pardo asked me to join him in asking his five undersecretaries to hold back their resignations for a few days. I explained to him that although we understood their feelings, it would not be an opportune time to resign. Believing Titoy and I had persuaded them to defer their resignation, I left and went to Malacañang.

At around 8 p.m., the president was talking to his defense lawyers.He was consulting them on the opening of the second envelope. The President had seen the reaction of the people to the suppression of the second envelope. Feeling he had nothing to hide, President Estrada asked his lawyers to request that the second envelope be opened, despite the fact that he had already won the legal battle over that technical issue.


November 11, 1985

Arrived from Tokyo this morning.

Spoke before the Manila Rotary Club. During the open forum that followed my speech, a die-hard supporter gave me 17-page document entitled “A Gathering of Davids”, dated October 30, 1985. Attached to it was another document consisting of 9 pages entitled “Declaration of Unity, dated Dec. 26, 1984.

the first document was a carefully conceived plot to destroy and discredit UNIDO and me as presidential standard bearer. The objective was to grab the leadership of the opposition from UNIDO and place it in the hands of left-leaning elements, using Cory as their tool. Obviously, this was hatched while I was in US.

The plot had a time-table. They were supposed to the COMELEC accreditation as Dominant Opposition Party (DOP) by Nov. 5. But they were delayed because of my absence. The NUC was to be used as the instrument to get the DOP from UNIDO and Ex-Justice Cecilia Muñoz-Palma was the anointed implementor. All along she had pretended to be “neutral”, but the document clearly showed that she was already part of the plot to replace UNIDO as DOP and replace me as presidential candidate. Their plan was to make Cory the presidential candidate and NUC as the DOP.

The plotters were:

Lorenzo Tañada — Convenor Group

Jose W. Diokno

Jaime V. Ongpin — Convenor Group

Cory Aquino — Convenor Group

Jovito Salonga ?

Butz Aquino

Aquilino Pimentel

Sonny Osmeña

Tito Guingona

 

They were the signatories also to the “Declaration of Unity” which had agreed to legalize the Communist Party and swore to immediately remove the US Bases — which Eva Kalaw and I had refused to sign.

It was specifically stated that the UNIDO was to be “forced” “as quickly as possible” to yield to NUC-CG demands “or else” be “isolated” and “viewed as the villain” by the people. A well-planned concerted media blitz to discredit and destroy UNIDO and me “at all cost” was already planned. “Coordinated press releases, interviews” were ready.

The so-called “Command Structure of the Coalition” excluded UNIDO. A convention within 48-hours also excluded UNIDO.

A letter addressed to the NUC, attention MP Cecilia Muñoz Palma, “reminding” her to seek the DOP status for NUC bu November 7, was already drafted.


Wednesday, November 29, 1972

Headline at the Express: “Delegates Approve Final Charter Draft. Signing Tomorrow.”

The paper repeated its report yesterday that the delegates approved the charter draft without any dissenting vote. But this was a patent lie. How could such a deliberate misleading of the people be done by the Express?

The Bulletin Today headlined “New Charter Draft Passed.”

In both papers, on the front page were big items: “FM Warns of Insurgency by Rightist Elements,” the Express said. The Bulletin talked about “Peril from the Right.”

In the afternoon, I returned to Camp Aguinaldo. When I entered, I saw Gerry Barican, a UP student activist, being questioned by an officer. Gerry asked me if I was a visitor. I said “Yes.” Having said this, I felt it was awkward to stay longer. I decided to go and meet Colonel Miranda who had signed the summons for my interrogation.

I was shown into his office.

It was a fairly young man, somewhat tall, in casual polo shirt, with an honest, pleasant face, who stood up when I entered.

“I have come to introduce myself. I am Caesar Espiritu.”

“No, I should be the one to introduce myself to you because I know you.”

The officer told me that we belong to the same church. He said that at one time he had read that I was the speaker at the Cosmopolitan Church, but he was not there when I spoke.

This must have been Independence Day 1971, when there was a combined service of several churches in Manila and I was the speaker.

I told him that I had already been interviewed and allowed to leave. I added that I thought that the basis for the investigation was my letter that had been taken from Rev. Haruna.

He showed surprise that I knew that my letter had been taken.

“Well,” I said, “I know somehow about it.” I added that after a few days, when the letter did not come back, I presumed that the Army had mailed it.

He laughed.

“I thought it was not important and that, therefore, it should have now been received by the addressee,” I was being facetious.

“It got stuck here.” He laughed heartily.

“Well, since you are a professing Christian, I can more easily explain to you what I was telling your investigator yesterday,” I said.

“I am somewhat active in ecumenical Christian movements, not only nationally but internationally. In the last few years, the World Council of Churches and the Vatican, after Vatican II, have become more and more liberal and progressive. I am in continuous touch with them. My views have been inspired by these contacts.”

I told him that I was vice chairman of the World Student Christian Federation (WSCF), with headquarters in Geneva, from 1964 to 1968. Although I am no longer a member of the Student Christian Movement in the Philippines, when WSCF people come around from Geneva or Tokyo, they look for me. Thus, when a preparatory seminar of the Asian Leadership Development Center was held here by the Asia Committee of the Federation, they naturally asked me to help in the arrangements. At the end of a ten-day preparatory seminar in the Philippines, as the delegates proceeded to Tokyo for their four-week seminar proper, I sent out three letters through the participants. It was the third letter that was captured from a Japanese pastor.

“Why did you send out letters through friends?”

“Simply because mails are much faster from Tokyo or Hong Kong than from Manila,” I said. “So naturally, I do send many of my mails through friends who pass through Manila.”

There was another officer who was listening in as we talked. As I kept on looking at him, he moved forward to join us.

“I know of no subversion that I have committed except subversion of the status quo, with all its injustices and oppressions.” I was warming up, encouraged by their apparent lack of hostility.

The two officers encouraged me to talk and gave me the impression that they were in agreement with what I was saying. It was getting to be a monologue. But then I could hardly stop. I remembered how St. Paul nearly converted King Agrippa. I wanted to make use of the opportunity to tell them of the imperative necessity of instituting fundamental changes in social structures. I spoke of the need to protect human dignity and to foster greater equality, to struggle for justice both nationally and internationally.

Colonel Miranda interrupted and asked me if I had heard of Silliman University. He said the university is having difficulties in looking for a president.

Why did he bring up the subject of Silliman University?

“We thought you would be the president of Silliman,” he said. “That was what we had heard way back in early 1961.”

“I was quite young then. I think I was offered the presidency of Silliman because of the TOYM award I received in 1961 in the combined fields of economics and education.”

“You would have been the youngest university president in the country.”

“But Dr. Jovito Salonga, who had just been elected congressman at the time, had counselled me that it may not be wise for me to accept the presidency, because, in his own words, I would be away from the ebb and flow of events, which are centered in Manila.”

The problem, I thought, was that some people in the military were, in the 1960s, suspicious of new ideas. During those years, I was held in suspicion for quoting Arnold Toynbee and Bertrand Russell on the need for greater achievement in man’s relations with his fellowmen, as well as on the need for actively searching for peace. “To be able to look into the eyes of a human being and see in him the flattering image of yourself,” or something to that effect was what Norman Cousins had thought was the urgent purpose of education.

I had an article which was excerpted from my Ph.D. dissertation at Harvard which came out in the Chronicle magazine. I came out against the “Anti-Subversion Bill,” which was then in the process of being passed by Congress. I had written this immediately upon my arrival back in the Philippines after four years of studies in law, politics and political economy at Harvard, even mentioning that when I was in London, I had heard lousy Commies orating to their hearts’ content at Hyde Park, with overzealous anti-communists heckling them. My LL.M. essay was entitled “The Legislature and Control of Political Heterodoxies” and my Ph.D. discourse was on freedom and national security.

Harvard is famous for its defense of freedom, I told Colonel Miranda; it is a great institution, and it is concerned with greatness, and we alumni are proud of her achievements.

The other officer’s name is Major Arceo. He was quite sharp. He said that they distinguish between advocacy of violence and the expression of ideas. He said that my views are well-known. They have never doubted my integrity and my loyalty to democratic institutions.

“Your name was never in our list,” they said. “You have never advocated rebellion or subversion. Your interview now is mere routine.”

“Why then did you say in the summons that this is an investigation interview in a case of subversion in which I am involved?”

“It’s just a slip.” They were on the defensive now.

I told them I had asked for one hour to arrange my things, send cables, have my clothes packed, etc.

Colonel Miranda threw his neck back in laughter.

“Really? No, we had never meant to get you. We have never doubted you at all.”

But why am I here, I kept on thinking.

Then I added that I did not know of any political subversive in the Convention. I said that the nearest to a Marxist, if any, would be Boni Gillego. But then, I said, he would be the most harmless Marxist one could meet. In fact, I think he is a democrat with a social conscience; I don’t think he would hurt a fly, I said emphatically.

They nodded in a noncommittal way. An awkward silence ensued.

“Where is Boni Gillego?” They broke the silence.

“I have no idea.”

Colonel Miranda asked me if I had seen Sonny Alvarez. I had hardly answered “No,” when he turned to Major Arceo.

“I understand that Sonny Alvarez was seen at the Intercontinental two weeks ago.”

“By whom, by our people?” asked Arceo.

“No, by some other people.”

“Perhaps he did not know that he is wanted,” Arceo suggested.

“Why should he be wanted?” I asked. “Alvarez is a good man. He believes in the need for minimizing injustice in society just as I do. He is involved in our struggle to democratize our social and economic institutions,” I said in rapid succession.

Another awkward silence followed.

“Some of the officers in the military were my students,” I changed the subject.

“Who?”

“Gen. Guillermo Picache, Gen. Crispino de Castro and some colonels and majors and captains, too.”

“How was General de Castro?”

I told them that when General de Castro was still a colonel, he was my student in the Master of Laws course. One day, as I was conducting a pre-bar review class, Colonel de Castro burst in and excitedly said, “I need your help.”

“What’s the matter?”

“Confidential,” he had smiled.

I approached him.

“I have been asked by the military to answer Recto’s speech which was delivered yesterday. But after one year with you, I have become pro-Recto.”

We laughed.

I told the two officials about two Serranos, both captains, who were my students. One of them was the late Boni Serrano, of Korean War fame. I made them understand that as a professor I have been democratic. Democracy means essentially diversity of ideas, I said.

They agreed. Major Arceo kept on assuring me that the military understands these matters and does not arrest people simply because of their ideas.

“There is a difference between advocacy and expression of ideas,” he said. “We are familiar with your writings, you have never advocated the overthrow of the government.”

“Why am I here then? Was it because I have taken views contrary to those of President Marcos? Was it because I stand foursquare against the violations of human rights by the military?” I asked in succession.

Again they were on the defensive.

“Every promising young man in the country has a file in the NICA. In fact, even President Marcos has a file. The NICA follows up all the activities of all promising people in the Philippines,” Arceo answered reassuringly.

“But insofar as you are concerned you have absolutely nothing to worry about,” he added.

“We have never suspected you. As far as we know, you have never been in the list,” Col. Miranda confirmed.

We parted in friendly terms. They were courteous and respectful. And intelligent, I thought, not the witch-hunting type.

But by what luck, what chain of circumstances kept me from being denied my freedom? Did I ward off being detained—again by the skin of my teeth?

Surely, I was wanted. Did I outtalk them? Did God touch their hearts? This was my second lease on liberty!

I felt both triumphant and unnerved. It was a sobering influence.

Or am I under the illusion that I had won the battle? Was not the military successful in instilling fear into my heart and overdone caution into my actuations? Damn it, I just want the military off my back!

Several delegates rushed towards me when I entered the session hall. The news had spread.

What transpired in the interrogation? Was I going to be detained? Senator Liwag, Joe Feria, Naning Kalaw, Bobbit Sanchez—these were among the friends who met me with concern for my safety as well as for theirs.

Johnny Remulla—even him—felt sorry for me. He told me that this noon, he was at the office of Solicitor-General Titong Mendoza and Titong had already heard from my classmate Joker Arroyo that I was taken into custody yesterday. “In fact, they were speculating,” Johnny added, “that your best friend and classmate Titong would be your prosecutor and Joker your lawyer.”

I was taken completely by surprise. How could this news have travelled so fast?

“Titong confirms that you have absolutely no communist leanings,” Johnny Remulla said. “But Titong said, of course, Caezar is a human rights activist and civil libertarian and has been espousing the need for greater justice in human relationships and of active solidarity with the poor. He is a practising Christian and this is the influence of his faith.”

I met Tony Tupaz at the aisle and asked him how come even Titong already knew about it. He did not answer the question directly; instead, he informed me that he even told Speaker Cornelio Villareal yesterday that I had been arrested.

These days I don’t know whether to believe or not anything Brod Tony Tupaz says; nevertheless, I still consider him a friend.

The Speaker was concerned, according to Tupaz; he immediately phoned President Marcos about it.

It is more likely that Nimia Arroyo of the Manila Times, who was covering our session, was the one who had spread the word around. Nimia is a loyal friend, a former staff member of mine when I was editor-in-chief of the Philippine Collegian at UP. She must have phoned her brother, Joker, a human rights lawyer and my classmate. Nimia saw me being taken by the military; we had looked into each other’s eyes as I was being led away by my military escort.

I sat down with Sedfrey. He told me that he was with Sen. Jovito Salonga yesterday and that he had told him that I was arrested. He said that Jovy Salonga was very much concerned about me.

But then I had calmed down. I kidded some of the guys that I had just taken my oral examination and that I think I passed the exam with the grade of “meritissimus.”

The delegates were milling around until 6:00 p.m. Apparently I did not miss anything by arriving late from Camp Aguinaldo. Nothing was happening. Everyone was killing time, waiting for the printed copies of the Constitution to arrive. Finally, at 6:00 p.m. we dispersed, without having done anything.

We returned at 8:00 p.m. There were no printed copies available either but Munding Cea then made a motion to go through with our nominal voting.

But of course, this is anticlimactic. Everything is just a formality. The real voting—on second reading—took place two days ago. The perversion of the Constitution has already been done.

Fourteen people voted “No.” The most sensational vote was that of Nene Pimentel who was standing before the microphone waiting for his name to be called. When his turn came to vote, he started to deliver a speech….

“Because of the adulterous…” his voice trailed off as presiding officer Abe Sarmiento banged the gavel. “Your vote,” Abe ruled. “What is your vote?”

Nene Pimentel continued to explain his vote but Brod Abe ruled that he should make known his vote first. Pimentel shouted, “I refuse to vote on this travesty of a Constitution…”

I heard later on that this was shown on TV.

Everyone is full of admiration for Nene’s guts, So am I. Now we are all the more afraid for him.

Some Independent-Progressive delegates who had wanted to vote “No” decided to vote “Yes” when they saw me being returned to the session hall by a soldier. They were clearly intimidated.

“Raul Manglapus has exiled himself abroad. Tito Guingona is in the stockade. And you came in escorted by a soldier. How do we vote now?”

“I cannot really give you much advice. Vote according to your conscience. I would vote ‘No’ if there is no danger of so doing, ‘Yes’ if there is,” I counselled lamely.

My Independent-Progressive group was downcast. Defeat was in everyone’s eyes.

Johnny Liwag was among the first to capitulate—he who had made so many speeches in our group meetings in the last few days on how “the blood of our children would be upon us.”

“Yes!” his voice had resounded in the session hall.

The rest followed suit.

Jess Matas’ voice faltered as he meekly voted “Yes, with mental reservations.” Then he threw himself on his chair to commune with his soul.

Everything went on so fast. It was so evident that the majority was really “steamrolling” the approval of the Constitution, even on third reading, which was really no longer decisive.

Still, many who have voted “Yes” on roll call today vowed that they would not show up for the signing of the Constitution tomorrow.

“We’ll get lost,” I proposed.

“Yeah, let’s get lost,” whispered more than a dozen sad voices.


Monday, November 27, 1972

The headline of the Daily Express today was “Second Reading Vote Today on Draft of Proposed Constitution.” The subheading is “Charter Reflect Spirit of New Society.”

I had a brief chat with Johnny Remulla and Jun Davide.

“There is no more oppposition in Cavite,” Johnny declared triumphantly. “Governor Bocalan is in the stockade while Senator (Tatang) Montano is out of the country. Tatang Montano was one of those to be arrested on the first day of martial law for smuggling and/or gunrunning.”

That left Johnny, indeed, the virtual ruler of Cavite.

I had thought that today we could start with our interpellations. I was about one of the few more interpellators who could not be accommodated yesterday because we adjourned early. However, when the session started in the morning, Roy Montejo moved that all other interpellations on the draft Constitution be submitted in writing to the Secretariat no later than 5:00 p.m. on November 28 for insertion in the journal.

I whispered to Sed Ordoñez, who was sitting beside me, “They have just killed my interpellation.”

I then dictated my interpellation to my secretary, Olive:

“We have divided the provisions of the new Constitution into those that are meant to be transitory in character and those permanent and enduring. I understand that the transitory provisions are meant to be merely provisional—that is to say, in the interim; that because of extraordinary circumstances certain powers are vested in certain officials. Is this the rationale for the concentration of executive powers which, ordinarily, we would not write among the permanent provisions during normal times?

“The members of the committee have been instrumental in convincing the majority of delegates that a parliamentary system of government is desirable for this country. The transitory provision, according to the draft Constitution, shall effect priority measures for the orderly transition from the presidential to parliamentary system of government. Does this mean that after the transition period, we shall then revert to the parliamentary system?

“If so, why the grant of extraordinary powers to the prime minister after the transition? Should these powers not be effective during the transition period only? Why should all the powers of the presidency be vested in the prime minister during normal times? Why not limit this grant of extraordinary powers during states of emergency? Again, why should veto powers be given the prime minister during normal times?

“As a corollary, there has been a diminution of the powers and responsibilities of the National Assembly under the draft being presented to us. I grant that during periods of emergency the power of Congress or of the Assembly may be greatly weakened, the reason being that these are abnormal times. But why, after normalcy shall have returned, should the National Assembly be allowed to pass only bills of local application? And what can be the justification for the deletion of the traditional immunity from arrest of its members during normal times?

“In the same manner, let us talk about civil rights. In the long history of constitutionalism, the most fundamental problem is that of striking a balance between national security and individual liberty. During normal times, however, democratic politics have tended to give greater weight to the fundamental liberties of citizens—not only of freedom of thought and speech, press, and worship but with all those freedoms that make human life human—the freedom to work and play, the freedom to laugh, the freedom not to be afraid. I find the predilection for being obsessed with national security understandable during abnormal times—during states of emergencies. But should we institutionalize the doctrine of national security and correspondingly diminish our vigorous support of civil liberties in the permanent provisions of the Constitution—after the national emergency shall have been over?

“Finally, we have a thick draft of the Constitution consisting of 92 pages. I find no more than eight pages given to the provisions on the national economy. And yet all of us agree that problems of national economy are among the most compelling problems of our people, and that indeed, the mediocre performance of the economy may put at risk the survival of our fragile democracy.

“What is our grand design for development? Is it not necessary to work for a fundamental restructuring of the world economy and a radical restructuring of social, political and economic institutions internally if we have to achieve development?

“And most important, is not social justice the overarching goal of development with which economic growth and self-reliance must be integrated to enable our people to attain a higher quality of life? Make their lives more human under the stresses and opportunities of growth? In other words, how do we effect radical changes in social structures so as to liberate the poor and the weak in Philippine society from their age-old bondage? What plan do we have for social reconstruction?”

Consummatum est,” I said as we filed out of the session hall at 9:40 p.m. today.

“Consummatum est,” echoed several delegates behind me, among them, Jess Matias and Erning Amatong. “We have just put the last nail in the coffin,” Erning said.

The elevator was getting to be full and I was the last one to enter. I asked quite innocently, “Where are we going?” A voice from behind said, “Very appropriate question—’Where are we going?’—Where else but down?” And still another delegate spoke: “Caesar, why do you ask such a question? Of course we are all bound to go down.”

The delegates were taking in stride the tragedy that has just struck. Filipinos are adept at double talk and the use of humor to hide their wounded feelings. Yet the note of fatalism cannot be hidden from their remarks.

The draft Constitution for the Republic of the Philippines was approved on second reading by a show of hands. Several of us—many from our Independent-Progressive group—abstained or voted “No.” But naturally, it was approved just the same.

But let us review the events of this day of infamy.

The day started with Delegate Yuzon proposing to change the first sentence in the Declaration of Principles to “The Philippines is a social and democratic Republic.” He made a very eloquent plea for acceptance of the amendment, arguing that the present wording, “The Philippines is a republican state,” was too tame to suit the progressive orientation of the new Constitution.

Of course, even the German Basic Law speaks of Germany as a social democratic state.

But responding on behalf of the committee, Ikeng Corpuz contended that the amendment would lead to confusion. The Yuzon amendment was lost, but I went over to Yuzon, anyway, to congratulate him for his progressive views.

The amendment of Naning Kalaw, which expresses the sentiment that those who have less in life should have more in law, was inserted into the records. Actually, President Magsaysay had made this as his slogan in the 1950s, the centerpiece of his social amelioration program. The poor guy did not realize that his legal adviser, Prof. Enrique M. Fernando, had taken the idea from Prof. Thomas Reed Powell of Harvard Law School. Insofar as our countrymen are concerned, this slogan is inextricably linked to Ramon Magsaysay; didn’t I see it inscribed at the Magsaysay Center at Roxas Boulevard?

At about 11:13, while we were still in the midst of amendments, Vic Guzman moved for the previous question on the entire draft of the Constitution.

That was not only foolish; it was sordid. Many delegates were furious.

I do not know what was in the mind of Vic. Of course, none of the amendments would be accepted. Nevertheless, he—along with the majority that completely overwhelmed us—could have manifested a spirit of moderation, of fair play, let alone generosity.

“Worse than the executioner is his valet,” Mirabeau had said during the French Revolution. How appropriately exhibited in our Con-Con!

When we started discussing the Bill of Rights, Sed Ordoñez rose on interpellation. He asked if the Bill of Rights was supposed to be operative. The answer of Tony Tupaz was “Yes.”

But was it not in conflict with the transitory provision?

“No, the Bill of Rights would be effective, subject to the transitory provision,” was the deceptive reply.

Double-talk!

“This is a fundamental matter—that of the civil liberties of citizens,” Sed warned. “We should not gloss this over.”

Tony Tupaz reiterated that the transitory provision would not nullify our civil rights; rather our civil rights would be subject to the transitory provision. Tony did not bat an eyelash as he solemnly affirmed his devotion to individual freedom.

In effect, our rights are guaranteed so long as they are not in conflict with the transitory provision, that is to say, with the decrees of the President. In other words, the President may suspend all our rights because we gave him that power in the transitory provision. Das ist klar (that is clear), my German friends would say.

Ramon Diaz has been around since yesterday. Presumably, he is only here to vote “No.” He had abandoned the Convention more than two months ago, right after we lost on the resolution providing for no reelection for the President. In fact, when I saw him, I said, “Ramoning, it is good to see you around; I mean, it is good to see you personally although it would have been better if I were seeing you elsewhere….”

“Yes,” he said, “it is tragic.”

Lolo Baradi and I exchanged some pleasantries in the hallway. Baradi, until the end, professed loyalty to Marcos. Yet…

“I tell you partner,” he said, “this New Society will fall unless the economy is able to pick up. What about the unemployment situation? I was talking with some of my clients and their attitude is not to move. The President has told the businessmen to cooperate, not just to wait and see—but why will the businessmen move when all they hear from the President are decrees: ‘Do this!’ ‘Do that!’ ‘Don’t do this!’ ‘Don’t do that!'”

I looked at this kindly old man quizzically. Here is a good friend of President Marcos disagreeing with what is happening and yet not being able to express openly his true feelings.

During the meeting with the businessmen, he commented, the President should have taken the opportunity to have some dialogue with them. What the Apo did was a monologue.

“Yes,” Lolo Baradi continued in a whisper, “the country will not prosper until we stop these decrees—’Do this!’ ‘do that!’ ‘don’t do this!’ ‘don’t do that!’ business.”

What a pity that men can have good thoughts but have their lips sealed, I thought.

I kept on waiting to pursue my amendments. I wanted to put on record my amendments on the Bill of Rights. Of course, Naning Kalaw has already presented so many amendments which have been recorded. I wanted to read my amendments on the Bill of Rights into the journal.

At 4:30 p.m., Vic Guzman stood up again and presented his motion to vote on the previous question.

What a terrible pest! Why the mad rush? Why not give everyone a chance to present amendments? Of course, these would all be voted down but nevertheless that was the very least that should be accorded the minority—the vanquished minority—us. The sporting idea of fair play, if not the generosity of the victor, is absent.

I thought of a strategy. I went to Edmundo (Munding) Cea and President Macapagal. I suggested that if we should run out of time, the floor leader, Roy Montejo, should move that all the amendments properly filed and not discussed on the floor should become part of the journal records. They agreed.

Munding was happy enough. But I suggested to him that it would be good to wait until the last moment to say this. In the meantime, we should still continue with our amendments.

President Macapagal was somewhat vigorously suggesting the same thing to Munding. “We should give everyone a chance to present his amendments,” he said.

“The amendments would be refused hut at least everyone should be given a chance,” I added.

Even President Macapagal was finding the proceedings repulsive. “Yes,” Macapagal echoed. “At least give them a chance so that people would not say we have railroaded everything…. Let us be somewhat democratic about this.”

We went through the whole ritual of having one amendment after another presented to the body refused by the committee, and overwhelmingly disapproved or withdrawn by the proponents. Whenever it was an amendment which would be quite difficult, a recess would be called by the committee members—Tony Tupaz, Tony de Guzman, Peps Bengzon, etc.—and then they would talk to the proponents. It was almost unbelievable—the way this would be followed by withdrawals of amendments by the proponents.

I started swapping jokes with my neighbors, “Madali palang magpa-withdraw.”

“How?”

“Two words are uttered by the committee people: ‘Isusumbong kita.'”

“Maybe it is not only ‘isusumbong kita,’ maybe it is ‘ipapa-stockade kita.'”

We laughed. Our laughter was tinged with sadness.

How come everybody, no matter how vehement about his amendment in the beginning, later on acceded to the request for withdrawal after a little conference?

“We are in a bullet train—five hours to Osaka,” I said in a loud voice.

“Yeah, make it three hours so we can go home,” echoed another voice.

We shook our heads in disbelief. Out of so many proposed amendments falling by the wayside, only one amendment was passed. This was a proposal by Sensing Suarez on search warrants and warrants of arrest. Under the committee draft, a search warrant and warrant of arrest shall be issued only upon probable cause to be determined by the judge or such other responsible officials as may be authorized by law after examination, etc. The amendment was to delete “or such other responsible officers as may be authorized by law.” In other words, only a judge may issue a search warrant or warrant of arrest under the Suarez amendment. Of course. Surely, not police officers!

The amendment was unexpectedly approved on a vote of 96 to 87.

We were jubilant. How grateful we are even for little blessings. The first amendment approved in two days! I was one of the many who congratulated Sensing for this.

Sensing told us the reason he stood up to thank the members of the committee after the voting was that the committee members also voted in favor although it was formally refused for the committee by Tony Tupaz.

Later, I joined Joe Feria, Bobbit Sanchez, Naning Kalaw, Lilia Delima and Cefi Padua at the terrace.

“What is your stand now?” Jose asked me.

“As of now, if the voting were nominal, I would abstain. If it is by a show of hands, I would abstain or vote ‘No.'”

Lilia then said, “Please reconsider. It is important for us to vote ‘Yes.’ The majority would only be too glad to have us out of the Assembly. They would only be too glad to see us taken to the stockade. Do you know that during the voting on the transitory provision, they were urging me to vote ‘No’ so that I would not be in the Assembly? Why should we play into their hands?”

Most of us decided to abstain or vote “No” if it is going to be a show of hands—with the exception of Fr. Ortiz, Justice Barrera and Nene Pimentel who, we know, are already firm in deciding to vote “No,” in any case.

Our little group was hoping that the voting would be by a show of hands.

Bebet Duavit was at the next table. He agreed with us. Nominal voting should only be on third voting.

We wanted it this way so that our little group could at least abstain if we may not be able to vote “No.”

As we were talking, Raul Roco strolled towards us with an air of nonchalance. He was whistling.

“Are you having any problem?” he asked laughingly. “Why do you have problems? I have no problems.”

“Sit down.” We put Raul on the chair.

He then told us that he had spent many hours of discussion with two “moral counsellors” and both of them had advised him to vote “Yes.” It was meaningless to vote “No” anyway. The important question was what possible harm could there be in voting “Yes?”

“Obviously, we have different loyalties. We have loyalties to our families, our committees, our country, but what harm does it do to vote ‘Yes?’ There could be harm in voting ‘No.'”

I related to this group—the remnants of our once proud Independent-Progressive bloc—the interview with Sakharov which I had read the other night. When asked finally whether they thought that their efforts—which have been putting him, his wife and his family in very great danger—would produce any significant change in Russian politics, Sakharov answered that he did not expect any such changes at all. Then why continue exposing himself and his family to danger? Because for them this is not a political struggle. It is a moral struggle: “We are dissenting, because we have to be true to ourselves.”

Raul Roco straightened up and looked straight into our eyes.

“The time to be true to ourselves has passed—that was during the voting on the transitory provision.”

There was a deafening silence.

Raul confided to us that one of the priests—with a foreign name which I cannot recall—told him it was like the question of Laurel and Abad Santos during the war. But then, Raul said, the analogy is not very accurate. The enemy was clear and specific during the Japanese time. The lines are quite vague this time. Who are we to say that this or that is the enemy?

We asked whether as a condition for the removal of his name and that of Romy Capulong’s from the wanted “list,” he was supposed to vote “Yes.”

“No,” Raul answered. “There was no discussion, there was no such condition. But it was assumed…. it was assumed.”

He laughed. Nervously.

We were all downcast, depressed.

Soon we were voting on the entire Constitution.

Sed Ordoñez stood up to move for nominal voting. As was to be expected, his motion was lost. The majority insisted on voting by a show of hands or by standing up.

Should I vote “No” or should I abstain? I could not possibly vote “Yes.” But what might I expect if, indeed, I voted “No?”

Before I could think through my dilemma or banish my fears, voting was called. Those who were voting “No” were asked to stand up.

I found myself instinctively standing up—to join the “No” voters. In half a second, Joe Feria joined me. But before we could fully straighten up, a sudden loud roar of approval burst out. The overwhelming majority of the delegates had obviously voted for the ap­proval of the Constitution!

We now have a brand new Constitution. A Marcos Constitution. Authoritarianism has been institutionalized. The lapdogs of the dictator were delirious with joy.

I remember that the British Prime Minister Gladstone had called the American Constitution “the most wonderful work struck off at a given time by the brain and purpose of man.” Our brand new Constitution is the opposite; it is the most despicable work struck off at a given time by the warped brain and purpose of man, to his lasting disgrace.

What is really this new Constitution that we have approved? It was not the draft Constitution approved by the Convention as such, a couple of months earlier. For all purposes, this is a new Constitution that has been framed by a Convention that has changed its stripes. The watershed was reached during the proclamation of martial law. From then on the Convention has been a transformed Convention. Several delegates have even turned against their own provisions—willingly or under duress.

Of course, the most “scandalous provision,” to use the phrase of (Senator) Jovito Salonga, is that of the transitory provision. It is objectionable on several points: (1) we have constitutionalized a dictatorship; (2) we have affirmed all the proclamations, decrees, general orders and letters of instructions of the President; (3) we have made ourselves, as delegates, beneficiaries of this Constitution by making ourselves assemblymen.

We shall become assemblymen—just like that!

The second feature—the legalization of the decrees of the President, was just somewhat improved upon by the amendment of Ikeng Belo to delete “are hereby confirmed, ratified as valid and binding,” etc., etc.

Part of the objections are contained in my interpellation which will be submitted tomorrow—because we are given until tomorrow to submit our written interpellations. Our oral interpellations have been cut off.

Bobbit Sanchez represents the same 2nd district of Rizal that Bebet Duavit represents. Bobbit informed us that it is now official knowledge in the Convention that Duavit is the high priest of Malacañang in the Convention. He receives instructions from Malacañang and transmits these during the proceedings.

Bobbit Sanchez confirmed that Duavit is presently thinking that only those who would vote for the Constitution on second and third readings should be allowed to be members of the Assembly. And we have just now not voted in favor. We have voted against. We are not going to disgrace ourselves. Whatever else life would bring or deny, one thing is absolutely certain: that we should not break faith with ourselves; that in our own eyes, our honor remains bright.

Duavit spoke. We should bear in mind, he said, that the rules of the Convention have been suspended.

What is the import of the rules being suspended? It is that the majority can do whatever it pleases, precisely because there are no rules.

But this is a perversion of democratic politics. Majority rule demands that the majority should prevail, it is true, but there are two conditions attached to these: that minority rights are not suppressed in the meantime, and that some day the minority might be the majority. In fact, the rationale for a written Bill of Rights in a democratic polity is to ensure that certain basic principles are insulated from the passing whims and caprices of majorities and officials.

Bobbit Sanchez, who seems to be able to gather much intelligence, gave the information that the other thing that Duavit is trying to accomplish is to undo the Suarez amendment, which restricts the issuance of warrants of arrest and search warrants to judges.

It was 9:18 p.m.—quite late in the night—when Duavit quietly, almost innocently asked Vice Pres. Abe Sarmiento, who was presiding, whether the rules have been suspended. He received an affirmative answer. He then quickly proposed to amend Section 16, Article 9, by adding on line 6, the words “unless the National Assembly shall provide otherwise.”

On behalf of the committee, Tony de Guzman accepted the amendment. Three seconds later, Abe banged the gavel to signify that the amendment was approved.

It was 9:19 p.m. No one was paying attention. Many delegates were still coming in.

Duavit then murmured some words. Was he uttering some magical incantations? He seemed to be proposing something… to amend Section 3, Article 4, by inserting the words that were deleted by the Suarez amendment on who may issue a warrant of arrest, “or such other responsible officers as may be authorized by law.”

Tony de Guzman accepted the amendment—which only a few people heard—in five seconds flat.

Chairman Abe Sarmiento asked if there were no opposition. A small, little figure swiftly darted towards the microphone and cried, “Objection!”

It was Bobbit Sanchez. Bobbit of course. Our gallant knight.

“We vote,” said an unruffled Abe. “Those in favor, raise your right hands. Those opposed…. Approved!” He banged his gavel.

It was 9:20 o’clock.

Ano ba ang pinag-uusapan?” one delegate innocently asked. He could have come from Mars.

Joe Feria was shaking his head in disbelief.

Ano, ano?… ito ‘yong amendment ni Suarez? Maganda ‘yon a. Hindi ba inapprove na natin?” Eli Johnson asked likewise in innocence. She could have also come from another planet. Creatures from another planet could have already conquered Earth, and she did not know it.

“This is terrible, terrible!” Rebeck exploded.

Yan ang sinasabi ko,” Bobbit threw his arms sidewards in a gesture of despair. He was grim. What can one really say to this? Like the dancing bear in Heinrich Heine’s Atta Troll, we are a people who love making speeches about freedom but secretly enjoy being in chains!

Many delegates started asking what had happened. All in one minute. But Abe was already far away on another item in the agenda. The railroad team had worked so efficiently. There was no discussion, no explanation.

Our Independent-Progressive coalition likes Abe but many delegates get exasperated when at times he becomes too cooperative with the establishment.

What is the meaning of the latest action? The clear meaning is that now it is not only the judge who may issue a warrant of arrest as provided for in the present Bill of Rights. It may be such other responsible officers as may be authorized by law. And law may be a decree. Which means, by a decree the President can ask any colonel or major or any other government officer, say, a chief-of-police, to arrest anyone.

It was not until some 15 minutes later that the full impact of the most recent action of the Convention was realized by most delegates. But by then everything was finished.

Cicero Calderon said that Duavit had phoned Malacañang about the earlier deletion of the phrase and that President Marcos was very angry over the deletion.

The Convention is really finished.

Two centuries ago, Vauvenargues said that the greatest evil which fortune can inflict on men is to endow them with small talents and great ambitions.


Saturday, October 28, 1972

Vice President Abe Sarmiento looked over a copy of the first draft prepared by the Steering Council. Apparently, the Steering Council already has a first draft of the whole Constitution, only eight days after the golpe.

Adil and Brod Abe summarized the provision which said that the members of the National Assembly would receive a compensation of ₱120,000.00 with other allowances not to exceed three times this amount.

“I was only asking for a salary of ₱72,000 instead of ₱120,000,” Adil said. (He had sponsored this resolution on the floor, but failed to get it approved.) “Plus an allowance of two times this amount. Now, this is three times.” He was exultant.

            Maganda, maganda,” Abe rubbed his hands in glee.

Cesar Sevilla from Leyte protested this would be unacceptable to the people. I joined him, saying that the people would hold the coming assemblymen in contempt in the same manner that they have held our present legislators in contempt, because of their excessive allowances. I told them of Senator Liwag’s suggestion that the remuneration of assemblymen should be limited to the same per diems they have been receiving as delegates.

Adil defended the huge compensation. He said the draft was prepared with the help of Malacañang consultants and of technical experts from Congress. Apparently, it was the feeling of Congress that the salaries and allowances should be increased from its present ₱48,000 plus allowances. But I thought that this huge salary of ₱120,000 plus three times this amount in allowances was adding insult to injury. This would be clearly immoral. In Germany, be it said, the staff allowance of a Bundestag member would provide for the salaries of 2 1/2 secretaries; this is something better than what the members of Parliament in the United Kingdom have for staff allowances which, incidentally, are directly paid to the staff. But what are we now proposing in our poor country, whose GDP per capita is less than 30 times the GDP of West European countries?

“I’m too old to take part in this immorality,” Domi Alonto commented. “Where shall the country get the money to pay for all these?”

Good old Domi. He is a respectable gentleman of the old school.

Delegates by the dozens then rushed towards Adil and Abe. They read and read the provisions amid rejoicing.

Hallelujah! We are going to be rich!

Pedro (Pete) Yap was gloomy.

“Perhaps you made a mistake in leaving the United Nations and coming home to the Philippines?”

I did not anticipate his response: “That’s true.”

He confided that he had thought that while he is still strong he would come back to the Philippines to serve the country. I was surprised to hear that now he regretted having left the U.N. to come back to his country.

Pete Yap is terribly disillusioned. He said he would now welcome working outside the Philippines again.

“I am looking forward to possibilities of working abroad, perhaps, in some United Nations agency,” I confided.

He said he is also thinking along the same lines.

“Ambassador Hortencio (Tensing) Brilliantes had told me in Geneva that you were quite close at the U.N. before.”

Pete agreed. “Perhaps Tensing can help us.”

Brilliantes, in addition to being our permanent representative to the U.N. in Geneva, will soon be ambassador to Bern and accredited to Vienna. He was elected chairman of the UNIDO last year and is now chairman of the UNCTAD. I was pretty sure he could help.

I told Pete I know someone who may be leaving for Bern soon and we could send a letter to Brilliantes through this fellow. He asked me to be sure to let him know. He would like to send a letter. He was serious.

After the session, I gave Nene Pimentel a lift up to Alemar’s. He was, as usual, very warm with me. He said he would, likewise, want to go abroad if possible.

“I could go around the universities in Europe and ask, ‘Would you like a former dean of a law school in the Philippines to handle a course?’,” I kidded him. Before his election to the Convention, Nene was dean of the law school of Xavier University in Cagayan de Oro.

“Or if you are so minded, we could put up a law office…” But Nene Pimentel suddenly checked himself and said, almost with regret: “Oh, but then you are going to join the National Assembly.”

“I don’t think so, Nene.” My voice was firm. “Never!”

Nene looked at me quizzically and smiled.

“I didn’t think you would,” he said gladly.

I went home thinking what a great pity this whole thing has turned out to be. What a mess!


Friday, October 27, 1972

Oka Leviste and I met at the Sulo. Tony Velasco came late, as did Inggo Guevarra’s representative. Aying Yñiguez also dropped by.

We met to consolidate the provisions on trade, tariff and commerce and on foreign loans and investments. I then reorganized and integrated the whole article on the national economy, dividing it into five parts—namely, (1) development planning, (2) industrial and commercial policy, (3) agriculture and agrarian reform, 4) monetary and credit policies and (5) public finance. Under the last section on public finance, I grouped budget and appropriations, taxation, public works and audit.

While we were meeting, Sonia Roco (Raul’s wife), Mely and Lito came in. After some pleasantries with them, I went back to my table with Oka, Inggo Guevarra’s representative, and the two secretaries. Soon afterwards, who do you think should appear? Raul Roco and Sonny Alvarez!

What a pleasant surprise. Sonny was grinning; he was spoiling a crew cut. Raul was jubilant.

I was overjoyed to see our “outlaws.”

Sonny told us that he had set the wheels in motion for his freedom. Celso was to meet with Enrile. Also, Father Reuter was supposed to talk to Enrile. Meanwhile, Manong Tony Raquiza was going to see the President.

It was past 1:00 p.m. when I entered the Philippine Sugar Institute building. Oka was speaking at the time. I gave the papers to him. “Thank you, Dr. Espiritu,” he said. Then he announced over the loudspeaker: “Dr. Espiritu has just submitted the draft on economic and fiscal policy.”

I then withdrew to the aisle and accosted Manong Tony Raquiza who was about to leave. I pleaded with him to go to the President on behalf of Sonny. Manong Tony said he had talked to Sonny but he had not seen the President since martial law.

“Well, Sonny needs to be saved; in fact, Romy and Raul have already been removed from ‘the list’ through the efforts of Enrile,” I said.

“And they have been even more critical than Alvarez,” Manong nodded understandingly.

            Manong Tony paused for a while, then continued: “Some of Ninoy’s friends from Tarlac may be Communists, but not Bren Guiao. Bren is not a Communist. And I also want to help Rondon; he is not a Communist either.”

I pressed him to see the President. He promised he would try to see him tomorrow.

Before the Steering Council dispersed, Charlie Ledesma announced that the members of the new Steering Committee of Marcos loyalists should now get their refined sugar.

I know of course that I am not a member of the inner circle; if anything, I am some kind of an enemy. Nevertheless, I jokingly asked my friend, Charlie: “May I also get one?”

He was quite busy looking at the Steering Council members; he did not hear me.

“Can I also get one?” I repeated; it would have been awkward for someone not a member of the “inner circle” to be standing by and not speak. Charlie still did not hear me.

So I uttered in a louder voice for the third time, “May I get one also?”

“Oh, yes, yes, you may get,” was the nonchalant reply.

I froze. Charlie had been friendly with me in the past. We used to recite the poems of the Romantics whenever the sessions were boring. We both love Shelley and Byron and Wordsworth… And of course I did not need the sugar. I was being flippant—because we used to be “comrades.”

Celso Dans, a reporter of the Daily Express, was then eating at the hall. He asked Charlie, “Sir, may I also get one?”

He was swiftly rebuffed: “There are not enough packages.”

I felt somewhat ill at ease. “I did not know that you did not have enough,” I said, returning my package.

“Oh, no, no,” Charlie condescended, “you may get one.” And in the same breath he called out to Pepe Abueva, “Doctor, please get your package.”

We walked towards the elevator. Chito Castillo put his arms over the shoulders of his comrades in the new Steering Council: “Mabuti sa economics, tapos na tayo. Ginawa na nila Caesar.”

Tony de Guzman reacted swiftly in a high pitch: “Ah, hindi, hindi... wala ‘yan.” He did not know that I was just behind them.

Chito pulled him aside. “We were just utilizing the brains of Caesar,” he whispered to Tony.

Tony then saw me as I stepped into the elevator to join them. He asked in quick succession: “How much did you shorten the provisions? Did you remove those that should he subject to legislation?”

Was there a note of contempt or of condescension?

“It’s hard to generalize,” I replied. “Why don’t you read what I have prepared?”

There was an awkward silence.

“What a transformation!” Nene Pimentel shook his head in disbelief, when he heard the story later.


Sunday, October 15, 1972

I gave Sisters Fely and Elizabeth, at the Sacred Heart headquarters, the list of delegates who have been so far apprehended by the military. They were classified into those in the primary list and those in the secondary list.

Among those in the primary list were Nap Rama (already apprehended), Boni Gillego (at large), Raul Manglapus (abroad), Sonny Alvarez (at large), Tonypet Araneta (abroad), Joe Mari Velez (already apprehended), Romy Capulong (at large), Ding Lichauco (already apprehended), and Raul Roco (at large).

Among those in the secondary list were: Pepito Nolledo, Natalio Bacalzo, Tito Guingona, Joe Concepcion, George Viterbo, all of whom have been arrested and detained. A few others like myself, my brother Rebeck, Nene Pimentel, Naning Kalaw, Erning Amatong and Lilia Delima have so far been only under surveillance. We did not know whether Sonia is in the list. Of course, Lilia wondered how Sonia could possibly be in the secondary list when she has been in Rome for quite a while now.

What kind of a State is this that regards its citizens first and foremost as security risks?

Sonia wanted to know whether she should resign from the Con-Con or should not come back anymore. I advised the nuns that perhaps she should not make any decision yet; the situation is still fluid. She should stay abroad until I am able to let them know of new developments.

The problem is how to convey all these to Sonia. Sister Elizabeth told me that when she returned from the U.S. two days ago one American lady with her was detained at the airport because she was carrying some films and apparently the military is suspicious (even) of films. So Sister Elizabeth is going to course the message through her sister in New York, or possibly, through the Papal Nuncio’s office. Sister Fely showed apprehension over my situation and said that she was going to pray for me.

From the Sacred Heart headquarters, I proceeded to the Manila Hotel, to the luncheon meeting of the International Chamber of Commerce of the Philippines where Dr. Manuel Lim was going to preside. Defense Sec. Johnny Ponce Enrile was going to be the guest speaker. It would be good to meet him; I want an assurance straight from the horse’s mouth!

I was registering at the Petal Room when Johnny passed by. I greeted him. He returned my greeting cordially.

At the end of his speech, I remembered with a start that I have a teargas pistol in my house.

I have always dreaded firearms. The only weapon I have given myself in the past ten years is a teargas pistol that is supposed to paralyze but I have, in fact, forgotten about it until then. Come to think of it, I have not seen my teargas pistol for so many years. I do not even know where it is.

Fearfully, I inquired from Johnny Ponce Enrile whether or not teargas pistols were supposed to be surrendered also.

Johnny smiled at this innocence. No need to surrender teargas pistols, he replied with a twinkle in his eyes.

In the Con-Con, we were fearing for our lives and our liberty. Understandably, for the businessmen gathered there, the most pressing problem is when they would be allowed to travel. Johnny said that they will be allowed to travel, but these businessmen must convince the Department of National Defense that their trip is really necessary and legitimate.

At least there is a promise that travel could be allowed. Of course, this is not good enough for some businessmen who want to pursue their business interests abroad, unfettered by clearances and checkups.