OP-ED COLUMNISTS: OPINION ON PAGE ONE BY FRANCISCO TATAD – Can we learn from Marcos?
FRANCISCO S. TATAD
THE more we listen to politicians like Speaker Pantaleon Alvarez, the more we see the need to be spared from repeating the worst errors of the past. The Marcos era had its good and bad sides; it is foolish for this administration to try to replicate its worst part. President Duterte and his surrogates should learn from Marcos.
This is what he did.
On January 17, 1973, after the proclamation of martial law on September 21, 1972 shut down Congress, Marcos promulgated a new Constitution establishing a parliamentary government. As written, the President would function as a symbolic head of state; executive power would be exercised by the Prime Minister as leader of the National Assembly (or Parliament).
But the President never became symbolic; he became the concurrent Prime Minister instead. And the National Assembly never convened; legislative power was exercised by the President (Prime Minister) instead.
A swarm of amendments
In 1976, Marcos proposed nine constitutional amendments. The most important of these changed the interim National Assembly into an interim BatasangPambansa whose 120 members included the President, elected regional and sectoral representatives, and some appointed members of the Cabinet.
It also authorized the President to continue exercising legislative powers while martial law was in force, even if the interim Batasan was in session, whenever in his judgment, there existed a grave emergency or a threat or imminence thereof, or whenever the interim Batasan or the regular National Assembly failed or was unable to act adequately on any matter for any reason that in his judgment required immediate action.
In 1980, Marcos proposed an amendment that raised the retirement age of judges from 65 years to 70.
In 1981, he proposed a new set of amendments that drastically changed what had been originally conceived as a parliamentary government into a mixed parliamentary system with a strong President and a symbolic Prime Minister, two positions assigned to Marcos.
In 1984, the Constitution was further amended to, among other things, restore the Office of Vice President he had earlier abolished, abolish the Executive Committee which had been created in lieu of the Vice President’s office, and fix the Batasan elections that year by district instead of by region, as in 1978.
From 1976 to 1984, the Constitution was amended 38 times, becoming the most heavily amended Constitution in the world, within a very short period of time.
In one of my speeches at the Batasan, after I left the Cabinet in 1980, I referred to three types of Constitution, namely, the written Constitution like that of the United States, the unwritten Constitution like that of the United Kingdom, and the constantly rewritten Constitution, like that of the Philippines. This did not amuse Marcos. But he tried to ignore it.
Dissected and debated
There was no Congress or Batasan to examine and debate the 1976 amendments. But once the interim Batasan was established, the other amendments were extensively dissected and debated first on the floor and then at the hustings. Not like today, when Speaker Alvarez tries to terrorize members by introducing cloture into the floor debate on the “concurrent resolution calling for a constituent assembly to propose constitutional changes,” and threatening them with punitive measures if they so much as hint any reservations on the Speaker’s diktat. He has even tried to strongarm the Senate into submitting to his odious misreading of the relevant provision on constitutional revision and amendments.
By contrast, there was never any attempt on Marcos’ or the Batasan Speaker’s part to stifle argumentation and debate. The KBL “supermajority”—although this word was never used then—was not afraid to clash swords with the minority, which although numerically small did not lack the necessary intellectual and parliamentary skills.
The Batasan minority
This included Minority Leader Mariano “Nick” Logarta, Bartolome Cabangbang, Valentino “Billy” Legazpi, Felimon Fernandez, Hilario Davide Jr., Alfonso Corominas, Natalio Bacalso, Fr. Jorge Kintanar, Julian Yballe, Eutiquio Cimafranca, Jesus Villegas, Jun Medina, and Domingo Pernes—all of Pusyon Bisaya, and the Nacionalista Party’s Salvador “Doy” Laurel and myself, a newly resigned member of the Marcos Cabinet.
We never felt we had to watch our step or our words, just because we belonged to the opposition. We pressed our position to the very end, without any thought that we were risking our personal safety or well-being by expressing our convictions.
After we lost the vote at the Batasan, Laurel said he would no longer campaign against the amendments because he would be preparing to run in the presidential elections Marcos would call. This left me virtually alone to respond to all the speaking invitations from Luzon.
In Mabini, Batangas, men and women of all ages became emotional as they listened to my speech on the amendments. At the end of my presentation, the mayor came to me looking distraught and forlorn. What would happen to him if his constituents voted against the amendments? I had to explain that all I did was show the people of his town why the amendments were not in their interest and should be rejected. They apparently saw my point and had decided to make my cause their own. He should stand with them, I said.
A challenge from Bicol
I spoke in other venues with similar results. But my real test came in Bicol. In 1978, against overwhelming odds, the region made me the first of its 12 assemblymen. Now they wanted to hear what I thought about the amendments. They wanted to know why after serving Marcos for 10 long years, I left the Cabinet and was now against his amendments.
A group of clergymen in Naga City asked me to speak to them in private, and I did so without any media present. But on my way out of the meeting a group of local newspapermen met me with an invitation from my friend and colleague, Assemblyman and Trade Minister Louie Villafuerte, for a friendly public debate on the amendments.
I did not decline the invitation, but showed no keen interest in it either.
Back in Manila, I met and spoke to the President by chance at the Batasan. He asked me if I was campaigning actively against the amendments. I said no, but added that I could not decline all the speaking invitations that were coming. As of now, for instance, Louie Villafuerte was asking for a friendly debate in Naga, I said, and it would not be good to disappoint him.
“That may not be necessary,” Marcos said, “let me talk to him.”
Debate at Plaza Rizal
A week later I was back in Naga to talk to a much bigger group of clergymen. The same group of newspapermen, only a bit more gung-ho, came to reiterate the invitation. Obviously, the President had not been able to talk to his trade minister, or the latter had not agreed to be restrained. So, I told the group I was at their disposal. A friendly priest who walked me out of the meeting offered to facilitate the arrangements. We then agreed to debate at Plaza Rizal, at the center of the city, at 6 p.m. the next weekend.
At the appointed date, I flew to Naga in the morning, checked in at the Archbishop’s residence where I had an open invitation, had lunch with the Archbishop, Most Rev. Teofisto Alberto, D.D., who was originally from Catanduanes, asked for his blessing, and tried to rest a little. At around 4 p.m., I had an unexpected caller—former Sen. Edmundo Cea, one of Bicol’s last surviving and highly respected senators. He came to express some personal concerns about my public encounter with my formidable colleague from Camarines Sur.
First of all, the debate would be on the Constitution, said the good senator. My adversary was a lawyer, and a good one, while I was merely a journalist and a writer.
Secondly, my adversary could be aggressive and theatrical, while I lacked bombast in my speech and tended to be too deferential to others.
Thirdly, my adversary was from Naga, who would be speaking mostly to the people of Naga, while I was from the small island province of Catanduanes, who might not even have friends or acquaintances in the audience.
Finally, the debate would be in Bicol, my adversary’s native, everyday language, as distinguished from my own. There are many shades of Bicol, but the Bicol which is used in public oratory or in transmitting the word of God through the pulpit is the Bicol which Naga speaks. The Bicol that the people of Catanduanes speak is one of the most pedestrian variants of the language, unfit for the pulpit or the stage.
Unbeknownst to all, I had been quietly learning the language by reading aloud a Bicol edition of the Catholic Bible and had, I thought, become fairly proficient in it. But I did not have the heart to tell that to the good senator. I told him he was correct on all counts, except that busloads of Bicolanos had already arrived at Plaza Rizal from everywhere—Iriga, Libmanan, Sipocot, Daet, Legazpi, Daraga, Sorsogon, Masbate and even Virac and San Andres to listen to the debate.
It was too late to back out. I would rather lose in the debate than lose face by dropping out at the last hour; I could never live that down. I thanked the good senator for his deep fraternal concern and asked him to just accompany me with his prayers.
What happened in Naga
My adversary was already comfortably seated in his chair when I ascended the stage, to a warm applause from the audience. After the topic and the speakers were introduced, we were asked to make our opening statements. The crowd treated my adversary with utmost deference and respect, but they interrupted my very first sentence with applause.
Then one applause followed another and another; I counted 52 applauses within half an hour. When my adversary joked that I had brought my cheering squad from Catanduanes, the crowd roared, “We are all from Naga, sir.”
At the close of the debate, the crowd surged forward, lifted me bodily above their heads and carried me around the plaza onto my car.
A couple of days later, I got a call from Camarines Norte’s Assemblyman and Minister of State for Foreign Affairs Marcial Pimentel. He was a dear friend, and he said if I had any plan of campaigning in his province, he would ask me to reconsider on his account. He said he had promised Marcos some votes, but after the Naga debate, his friends had told him to stop trying to convince them because they already heard everything they needed to hear “from Kit.”
At the plebiscite of April 7, 1981, the Marcos amendments won in every region, except in Bicol where they were overwhelmingly rejected.
I have narrated this episode because in the absence of a meaningful exchange on the proposed Charter change in Congress, I would propose that we open up the various venues for a full-bodied debate on the various proposals that our false saviors are trying to ram through our people’s throats. I would ask patriots of all ages to get involved in this. Although my knees are no longer as sturdy as my ideas, I hope I could still find a worthy adversary and insert myself in this exercise.
COURTESY:
The Manila Times
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