Mobogracy
May 19, 2001 | 12:00am
Okay. So you’ve just had an election. Things – never quite normal under the best of circumstances – will probably be weird for the next couple weeks until all the votes are counted.
But the Philippine Constitution, shaken and a little stirred by recent events, still stands. The democratic process is still intact, too, though many count it a mixed blessing that everyone is allowed to vote. Some recommend IQ tests to eliminate idiot voters, but even otherwise intelligent people can vote badly, because Philippine politics is more often based on filial and patriarchal lines than on issues.
Every election I’ve witnessed here has been vivid proof that democracy – just like language – undergoes major "refinements" wherever it is adopted. Just as Filipino English is different from Australian English and American English, Philippine democracy is a completely new breed. So you have your dagdag-bawas, your flying voters, even your dead voters; you have your hand-counted ballots, your piles of confiscated guns and weapons, and your archaic "Ballot Secrecy Folders" (pieces of cardboard folded in front of voters to resemble an ad-hoc polling booth). Meanwhile, You have Mark Jimenez giving out GCs (gift certificates) to those who vote for him, and one disgruntled candidate on hunger strike because of alleged vote-buying in his precinct.
In other words, pretty much your standard exercise of democracy in the Philippines.
But some people are not happy. They are suggesting that democracy has failed in the Philippines, and that it might be time to look at other models of governance. They are willing to chuck out the baby with the bathwater. But what are the options? Resort to a parliamentary system, where there are even fewer government officials to bribe? Stage mass rallies every couple months to clean out the national pipes? We’ve already seen where the trend of mobocracy has led since EDSA 2.
One thing about democracy: it has never pretended to be perfect. In fact, according to Winston Churchill, democracy is probably the worst form of government in the world – except, of course, for all the others.
Which brings me to announce my latest idea – a modest proposal for a new form of government here. Ahem. Why not try a constitutional monarchy? I know, I know – that sounds scarily like what Marcos tried to pull off here 30 years ago. But no, this would be a constitutional monarchy with a figurehead, and that figurehead would be a popularly-elected candidate vested with very little actual power.
Here’s how it would work. Get yourself a popular guy (or gal), someone the majority of the people love (someone like Estrada). Put him in charge of carabao development – something that will keep him busy, but where he can do little actual damage to the economy. Make sure he holds office somewhere safe where you can keep an eye on him – someplace like jail.
Meanwhile, get some real grind – a nerd, somebody who’s good with numbers and at impressing foreign business watchers (someone like Gloria). Then, let the nerds run the government. Why nerds? Nerds are born problem-solvers, and they’re less likely to spend all their time stealing.
Let it be understood that you have a two-tiered system of government, elected by the people: one candidate – the popular guy, the goof-off, the one inclined to muck things up – can spend all his days entertaining visitors, pressing the flesh, watching NBA games on TV within the comfort and security of his cell. The other candidate, the real worker, can go about the business of governing. I think this is a win-win situation. And as for the Congress? Screw ‘em. There are already too many laws anyway.
The Philippines version of democracy has developed along fairly organic lines, and is now easily mutated by the latest mass movements and public gatherings. It is almost too responsive. Flexible, yes. Accurate? Who knows. But, as I say, no system of government is perfect, and the weird twists and turns during the last month or so – starting with Estrada’s arrest and the deeper polarization between the haves and have-nots – have convinced me that there are still worse alternatives to democracy.
Take, for instance, the system of government depicted in this scene from the classic comedy Monty Python and the Holy Grail, in which King Arthur, anointed by the Lady of the Lake to unite and lead England, travels the countryside in search of Camelot – his destined place of reign. How do we know he is king? "He hasn’t got shit all over him,"shrugs one peasant.
Arthur:How do you do, good lady. I am Arthur, King of the Britons. Whose castle is that?
Woman: King of the who?
Arthur: The Britons.
Woman: Who are the Britons?
Arthur: Well, we all are. We’re all Britons, and I am your king.
Woman: Well, I didn’t vote for you.
Arthur: You don’t vote for kings.
Woman: Well, how did you become king then?
Arthur: The Lady of the Lake, her arm clad in the purest shimmering samite, held aloft Excalibur from the bosom of the water signifying by Divine Providence that I, Arthur, was to carry Excalibur. That is why I am your king!
Man: Listen – strange women lying in ponds distributing swords is no basis for a system of government. Supreme executive power derives from a mandate from the masses, not from some farcical aquatic ceremony.
Arthur: Be quiet!
Man: Well you can’t expect to wield supreme executive power just ‘cause some watery tart threw a sword at you!
Arthur: Shut up!
Man: I mean, if I went around saying I was an emperor just because some moistened bint had lobbed a scimitar at me, they’d put me away!
Arthur: Shut up! Will you shut up!
Man: Ah, now we see the violence inherent in the system.
Arthur:Shut up!
Man: Oh! Come and see the violence inherent in the system! Help! Help! I’m being repressed!
Arthur:Bloody peasant!
The moral of the story is: Be patient. As you can see, England had to go through centuries of political experiments before developing into the shining example of modern governance that it was to become. Democracy in the Philippines has only been around for 50 years or so. Things can only get weirder before they get better.
But the Philippine Constitution, shaken and a little stirred by recent events, still stands. The democratic process is still intact, too, though many count it a mixed blessing that everyone is allowed to vote. Some recommend IQ tests to eliminate idiot voters, but even otherwise intelligent people can vote badly, because Philippine politics is more often based on filial and patriarchal lines than on issues.
Every election I’ve witnessed here has been vivid proof that democracy – just like language – undergoes major "refinements" wherever it is adopted. Just as Filipino English is different from Australian English and American English, Philippine democracy is a completely new breed. So you have your dagdag-bawas, your flying voters, even your dead voters; you have your hand-counted ballots, your piles of confiscated guns and weapons, and your archaic "Ballot Secrecy Folders" (pieces of cardboard folded in front of voters to resemble an ad-hoc polling booth). Meanwhile, You have Mark Jimenez giving out GCs (gift certificates) to those who vote for him, and one disgruntled candidate on hunger strike because of alleged vote-buying in his precinct.
In other words, pretty much your standard exercise of democracy in the Philippines.
But some people are not happy. They are suggesting that democracy has failed in the Philippines, and that it might be time to look at other models of governance. They are willing to chuck out the baby with the bathwater. But what are the options? Resort to a parliamentary system, where there are even fewer government officials to bribe? Stage mass rallies every couple months to clean out the national pipes? We’ve already seen where the trend of mobocracy has led since EDSA 2.
One thing about democracy: it has never pretended to be perfect. In fact, according to Winston Churchill, democracy is probably the worst form of government in the world – except, of course, for all the others.
Which brings me to announce my latest idea – a modest proposal for a new form of government here. Ahem. Why not try a constitutional monarchy? I know, I know – that sounds scarily like what Marcos tried to pull off here 30 years ago. But no, this would be a constitutional monarchy with a figurehead, and that figurehead would be a popularly-elected candidate vested with very little actual power.
Here’s how it would work. Get yourself a popular guy (or gal), someone the majority of the people love (someone like Estrada). Put him in charge of carabao development – something that will keep him busy, but where he can do little actual damage to the economy. Make sure he holds office somewhere safe where you can keep an eye on him – someplace like jail.
Meanwhile, get some real grind – a nerd, somebody who’s good with numbers and at impressing foreign business watchers (someone like Gloria). Then, let the nerds run the government. Why nerds? Nerds are born problem-solvers, and they’re less likely to spend all their time stealing.
Let it be understood that you have a two-tiered system of government, elected by the people: one candidate – the popular guy, the goof-off, the one inclined to muck things up – can spend all his days entertaining visitors, pressing the flesh, watching NBA games on TV within the comfort and security of his cell. The other candidate, the real worker, can go about the business of governing. I think this is a win-win situation. And as for the Congress? Screw ‘em. There are already too many laws anyway.
The Philippines version of democracy has developed along fairly organic lines, and is now easily mutated by the latest mass movements and public gatherings. It is almost too responsive. Flexible, yes. Accurate? Who knows. But, as I say, no system of government is perfect, and the weird twists and turns during the last month or so – starting with Estrada’s arrest and the deeper polarization between the haves and have-nots – have convinced me that there are still worse alternatives to democracy.
Take, for instance, the system of government depicted in this scene from the classic comedy Monty Python and the Holy Grail, in which King Arthur, anointed by the Lady of the Lake to unite and lead England, travels the countryside in search of Camelot – his destined place of reign. How do we know he is king? "He hasn’t got shit all over him,"shrugs one peasant.
Arthur:How do you do, good lady. I am Arthur, King of the Britons. Whose castle is that?
Woman: King of the who?
Arthur: The Britons.
Woman: Who are the Britons?
Arthur: Well, we all are. We’re all Britons, and I am your king.
Woman: Well, I didn’t vote for you.
Arthur: You don’t vote for kings.
Woman: Well, how did you become king then?
Arthur: The Lady of the Lake, her arm clad in the purest shimmering samite, held aloft Excalibur from the bosom of the water signifying by Divine Providence that I, Arthur, was to carry Excalibur. That is why I am your king!
Man: Listen – strange women lying in ponds distributing swords is no basis for a system of government. Supreme executive power derives from a mandate from the masses, not from some farcical aquatic ceremony.
Arthur: Be quiet!
Man: Well you can’t expect to wield supreme executive power just ‘cause some watery tart threw a sword at you!
Arthur: Shut up!
Man: I mean, if I went around saying I was an emperor just because some moistened bint had lobbed a scimitar at me, they’d put me away!
Arthur: Shut up! Will you shut up!
Man: Ah, now we see the violence inherent in the system.
Arthur:Shut up!
Man: Oh! Come and see the violence inherent in the system! Help! Help! I’m being repressed!
Arthur:Bloody peasant!
The moral of the story is: Be patient. As you can see, England had to go through centuries of political experiments before developing into the shining example of modern governance that it was to become. Democracy in the Philippines has only been around for 50 years or so. Things can only get weirder before they get better.
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