Afraid

The images say it all.

As I write this, shortly before the State of the Nation Address is actually delivered, protest groups are arriving. The earliest, no doubt, spent the night in the vicinity of the protest venue. They are reinforced by groups from the surrounding provinces spilling in by the jeepload. We have seen this before.

Awaiting them are hundreds of policemen. They stand behind layer upon layer of concrete barriers, container vans and rows of razor wires. It is as if they expect a horde of people to throw themselves upon the barricades. We have not seen this before.

In more honorable times, it was the protesters who hid behind barricades. The police marched against the barriers authoritatively. Skirmishes happen. They end when the barricades are dismantled and authority enforced.

These cannot be honorable times. It is the authorities hiding behind their own barricades. It is as if they doubt their own authoritativeness. They are afraid of their own citizens.

The scene outside does not flatter the President. He appears to be speaking to his people from behind phalanxes of grim-faced security forces. He appears to be under siege. He appears to be afraid of his own people.

The images say all that.

To be sure, this is not the best of times for the Aquino presidency. There is a sense of regret among those who invested hope in what he might accomplish. During his mother’s time, the term “Sorryista” proliferated, a play on the word “Corysta.” The phenomenon repeats itself today, personified by Juana Change (an ardent Noynoy fan who turned up to sign the impeachment complaint against him). 

As the Aquino II presidency comes into its denouement, as it prepares to exit the scene, the predominant sense seems to be that the nation wasted so much time and lost many opportunities.

We invested so much expectation for reform on someone who had no reformist vision, only reformist rhetoric. There was no coherent master plan, no clear sense of what the role of the state at this juncture of our development is. There is no compelling sense of an expert captain willfully steering the ship of state.

Aquino had immense political capital at the onset. He could have deployed this capital to break new ground, alter our policy architecture to wean it away from oligarchic capture. He could have reinvented our bureaucracy (always the toughest nut to crack), making it truly responsive and accountable. He could have initiated much-needed constitutional renovation.

Instead, he wasted his finite political capital on petty and vengeful projects. He persecuted his predecessor. He amassed a large political war chest used to oust a Chief Justice and buy support for the midterm elections. That political war chest, also known as the “disbursement acceleration program” now haunts his legacy. The scandal, ironically, limits the ability of his cronies to self-perpetuate in power.

Precisely because disappointment has multiplied and scandals abound, the 5th SONA of this president labors under tremendous odds.

If Aquino maintains the arrogant tone and superficial content of his four previous speeches, he will begin to transform into a parody of himself. Against the record of unfulfilled promises, any hint of boastfulness in that speech will be an aggravation.

Too many times, Aquino tried too hard painting a heroic picture of himself. That is, however, a burden better left for posterity to bear.

Glenda

Two weeks after Typhoon Glenda ripped through the capital region and the densely populated provinces nearby, the damage remains visible. Felled trees still need clearing, evacuation centers need tending and homes need repair.

It is a consolation that, except for a few isolated areas, power has been restored.

During severe weather episodes, power supply is always vulnerable. That is especially true in our case where overhead power lines remain the norm, high-tension power cables traverse hilltops and aging power plants are prone to flooding.

When Glenda hit, all three components of the power sector (generation, transmission and distribution) suffered damage. Several power plants conked out. Transmission lines were cut in several places. Meralco, the main distribution utility in Mega Manila, had its hands full resurrecting felled posts, replacing damaged transformers, checking the safety of lines from the neighborhood to the household level.

Metro Manila is one of the decreasing number of large urban concentrations where power lines are kept overhead rather than underground. On key signature of Metro Manila is the mad tangle of cables in the air — an oddity considering we are prone to typhoons.

When Glenda passed, power supplies in many areas were cut intentionally as a safety measure. The restoration of power supply depended on the seriousness of damage incurred. This is the reason why some neighborhoods had power restored promptly while adjacent ones has to wait for days in darkness.

What was important was how much power was restored when. That was the test of effectiveness of the distribution utility.

Although many of us complained of the number of days it took for power to be restored, studies show that Meralco’s response compares well with other instances elsewhere hit by weather disturbances of the same severity as Glenda.

A comparable weather disturbance was Hurricane Sandy that hit the US east coast. Three days after the weather event, only 39% of New York, 63% of Connecticut and 65% of West Virginia was energized. Meralco actually performed better, aerial power lines notwithstanding.

There remain areas without power to this day. The Sorsogon Electric Cooperative II franchise area, for instance, will require a month before power could be restored.