TIME: Almanac 1995

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<text id=89TT3249> <link 90TT2563> <link 90TT0046> <link 89TT3313> <title> Dec. 11, 1989: The Philippines:Soldier Power </title> <history> TIME--The Weekly Newsmagazine--1989 Dec. 11, 1989 Building A New World </history> <article> <source>Time Magazine</source> <hdr> WORLD, Page 50 THE PHILIPPINES Soldier Power </hdr><body> Relying on U.S. assistance to battle the worst threat yet to her government, Corazon Aquino clings precariously to her post By Howard G. Chua-Eoan The rumor mill had already established the date and time of the coming coup: Dec. 1 at 3 a.m. But Manila was used to rumors. And since the failure of the last big putsch, in August 1987, most of the talk had led nowhere, good only for a stir in the stock market or titillation among armchair plotters in the capital's gossipy coffee shops. At 10 p.m. on Nov. 30, the speculation was scotched as the government announced the arrest of three members of an elite military division who had attempted to sabotage a provincial communications station south of Manila. For most Filipinos, that seemed to be it. Another coup quashed. Another night to dream up new plots. But the old plot had barely begun. Just after midnight, as Manila slept, a contingent of 200 Philippine marines and Scout Rangers stationed themselves above a strategic highway leading to Fort Bonifacio, headquarters of the Philippine army, and suburban Villamor Air Base. Accompanied by two armored personnel carriers, the soldiers were armed with automatic rifles and supplied with mortars. On their left sleeves they bore a strange white patch with the letters RAM-SFP. The first three initials identified the men as members of the Reform the Armed Forces Movement, an organization of Young Turks that was thought to have been disbanded after its leader, the renegade former Lieut. Colonel Gregorio ("Gringo") Honasan, 41, staged the coup that nearly toppled President Corazon Aquino more than two years ago. The second set of letters stood simply for Soldiers of the Filipino People. Asked what they were up to, one marine said, "We are here for our country." And then they began to take it by force. Suddenly, Manila seemed to be besieging itself as rebel troops and government soldiers staked out territory in the city and launched attacks on each other. Not since World War II had so much firepower been seen and used in the capital region. More than ever before, the Aquino regime tottered on the brink of collapse as rebel bazookas blasted away at soldiers defending television broadcast facilities and as factions within the air force joined the rebels and bombed the presidential compound. Even as she declared the situation under control, Aquino made a humiliating admission of weakness: she requested and was granted U.S. military assistance. The rapid deployment of several U.S. F-4 Phantoms from Clark Air Base, the American air base north of Manila, retook the skies for Aquino. The unusually decisive action by George Bush earned him bipartisan praise for coming to the rescue of democracy. Said U.S. Senate Majority Leader George Mitchell: "The President's decision was an appropriate and prudent one under the circumstances." But Aquino may be haunted by her decision for the rest of her political life. Alluding to the Philippines' former status as a U.S. possession, Max Soliven, a columnist for the pro-Aquino Philippine Star, wrote last week: "When a government cannot overcome a rebellion without `outside' help, I hope that this does not make it a colony, a satrapy, or a banana republic, all over again." For Aquino, the euphoria of People Power has long been replaced by the tribulations of running the Philippines. Even as the world seemed to be infected by the kind of popular uprising she led, Aquino was struggling with mixed results to make democracy work with a fragile economy and in a land afflicted with corruption and insurgency. At home, her halo has lost its shine, and her popularity, while sizable, has dipped substantially. To the rest of the world, however, she has remained one of liberty's most potent symbols. And for the U.S. she represents one of the few genuine foreign policy triumphs of the decade -- the moral shift in American diplomatic thinking away from collaborating with authoritarian allies to standing with democracy. Last week, when it came to a choice between a military putsch that might have brought a vicious but strategic stability to the Philippines and a woman who headed the weak but nevertheless legitimate government of the country, Washington chose Aquino. Bush received word of the coup before departing for Malta, and was kept posted on events while he was aboard Air Force One. Just before 11 p.m. Thursday, Bush learned of Aquino's request that U.S. fighters place an "aggressive cap" over two airfields near Manila from which the rebels had launched attacks against government positions. Meanwhile, Vice President Dan Quayle chaired a crisis-management group in the White House Situation Room to review options. At 11:30 the Quayle group recommended granting Aquino's request, and Bush approved it an hour later. In addition, 100 U.S. Marines, part of a contingent of 800 stationed at Subic Bay Naval Base, north of Manila, were deployed on the grounds of the American embassy as a defensive measure. The scale of the uprising had surprised and panicked Aquino. Rebel troops quickly took over Villamor Air Base and blocked loyal pilots from taking off in their helicopter gunships. Fort Bonifacio fell. Minutes later, the rebels sent patrols down the runway of the neighboring international airport, effectively shutting it down. At the same time, two truckloads of insurgent marines led a convoy of cars and trucks toward TV Channels 2 and 4, about 20 minutes away in Quezon City. They entered the grounds of Channel 4, the government station, without being challenged; 45 minutes later Channel 2 was also occupied. The mutineers' disinformation kept the government off balance. Reports trickled in that large areas of Luzon and Mindanao as well as the bustling commercial city of Cebu in the central Philippines had capitulated to the rebels. Rumors flew that Defense Secretary Fidel Ramos and armed forces Chief of Staff Renato de Villa had joined the rebellion. Ramos added to the muddle by saying nothing publicly on the matter for 212 hours. Finally he went on radio to urge: "Do not believe their propaganda. It's not true. We're fighting them. They are the enemy." At the Malacanang Palace grounds, even Aquino's staff was shaken. Said assistant press secretary Lourdes Sytangco: "It looks as if the rebels have the upper hand." Not until three hours after the fall of Villamor did Aquino go on the air to address her people. Speaking on Channel 9, a privately owned network, the President said, "We shall smash this shameless and naked attempt once more. This nation must never again be allowed to fall into the hands of tyrants." At that point, the government counterattack began. Seven army trucks headed for Channel 4 and a fire fight with rebel forces there. Ramos and De Villa monitored the crisis from Camp Crame, the constabulary headquarters. The rebels kept up the pressure. With vintage T-28 aircraft they knocked the government off the air by bombing Channel 9 just as Aquino was announcing that the situation had been "contained." They pinned down loyalist forces by hitting Crame and the presidential palace. One palace staff member was hurt, but Aquino was unscathed. On a recommendation by Ramos, she relayed a request for U.S. air support to Washington and to U.S. Ambassador Nicholas Platt. The American help was crucial to the Aquino cause, clearing the skies of rebel craft and allowing loyalists to consolidate their forces. In an interview late in the week, Aquino admitted that Philippine military planes had hesitated to strafe and bomb the rebel soldiers. When American might was clearly on Aquino's side, however, Philippine jets attacked rebel-controlled Sangley Point naval station, destroying eight planes on the ground. Their timing thrown off by the intervening U.S. forces, the rebels abandoned Villamor, Fort Bonifacio and the TV stations. While many mutineers surrendered, others scattered throughout the metropolis, taking over three luxury hotels and holding positions against air and ground attacks near the Defense Department headquarters of Camp Aguinaldo. Declared Aquino: "We leave them two choices -- surrender or die." The rebels' reply: "We will fight to the end. Resign." Though the government insisted that the back of the mutiny had been broken, fierce and protracted fighting continued through the weekend. Camp Aguinaldo was set ablaze by rebel howitzers. The week's toll: at least 46 dead and 200 hurt. What brought on the rebellion? Aquino may have restored the country's democratic institutions, but she has allowed the 147,500-man-strong military to continue along the dangerous course it took during the latter years of the Marcos regime. As young colonels, radical rightists and Marcos loyalists intermittently mounted coups against her, Aquino was forced to depend on military men like Ramos and De Villa to make sure that the armed forces did not entirely turn on her. Unfortunately, the management policies of these top officers were forged during the dictatorship, when promotions were decided almost wholly on the basis of political loyalty rather than talent. The top ranks continued to be filled by officers who owed fealty to the Ramos-De Villa clique -- and only by extension to Aquino. Coup plotters have taken advantage of the resulting frustration among the younger officers to organize against Aquino. According to Candido Filio, a military analyst with the University of the Philippines, Gringo Honasan did not need support from the top brass to launch last week's coup attempt. "He has been working the line of company commanders," says Filio. As it turned out, at least two generals joined the rebellion. The rebel officers "are not Noriegas," says Stanley Karnow, author of In Our Image: America's Empire in the Philippines. "They are not thugs by any means." While only about 2,000 rebel troops were involved in the rebellion, several other units declared themselves neutral in the conflict out of respect for Honasan's cause. Even if Gringo's latest attempt to seize power is thwarted, says Karnow, "the symptoms of malaise within the military will still be there." For his part, Honasan remained invisible and mostly silent during the uprising. Except for former RAM member Rodolfo Aguinaldo, governor of Cagayan province, in the far north, no politician publicly sided with the rebels. In fact, most stood by Aquino, including Senate President Jovito Salonga, who has been critical of her policies. "It took so many years and so much sacrifice to get rid of the dictatorship," said Salonga. "We must protect this democracy despite all its faults and weaknesses." The price paid for saving Philippine democracy, however, could one day doom it. The political situation is a shambles. A drive to win new foreign investment is now likely to be aborted. Worst of all, though U.S. jets may have flown the colors of liberty, their intervention was a psychological blow to the Filipinos. Since independence in 1946, the Philippines has struggled with its complex love-hate, parent-child relationship with America. Already accused by nationalists of being an American lackey, Aquino had shrewdly kept her silence -- and "my options open" -- in the matter of renewing the leases on Clark Air Base and Subic Bay Naval Base, two of the largest U.S. installations in the world. Now that she has shown herself dependent on U.S. forces there, Aquino may be hopelessly compromised when negotiations on renewing the leases begin shortly. Says a Filipino intelligence officer: "Let's not even talk about the U.S. bases, much less discuss them this month. This is a U.S. territory, no less, as demonstrated by the U.S. assistance granted to our ceremonial President." "The Philippines is still dependent on the United States," says Karnow. "What's called a `neocolonial relationship' or `a special relationship' is still there." The rebels have seized on the issue and are holding Ambassador Platt "personally responsible" for their defeat and calling the U.S. move "an act of aggression against the sovereign Filipino people." Breaking his silence, the still unapprehended Honasan told TIME during a brief phone call, "We do not wish to spurn our friendship with the American people. But I believe it is morally wrong for Ambassador Platt to take sides because it will mean more bloodshed." Saving democracy may be its own reward, but for the U.S., this rescue could have long-term costs. Now that Washington has used force to prop up the Aquino regime, will anything less do the next time a threat arises? --Sam Allis/Boston and Nelly Sindayen/Manila </body></article> </text>