Prologue

VIRGIN ISLANDS. The perfect place to spend one’s twilight years. Peace and quiet at last, a nice little cottage by the sea, and above all, complete isolation. No reporters around to bug me, no subversives to track me down.

The phone is ringing again. I thought I already had it disconnected.

“Hello? ... Johnny! … Good to hear from you again! … Were you able to make it safely to Nepal? … Hear from Bush? … Does he still love my democratic principles? … By any chance, do you know of the situation back home? … Oh, never mind, I wouldn’t want to know! … Anyway, listen. Last month, I received a call from Grunwald and he asked me to write a book… How does ‘The Malacañang Years’ sound? … Got the idea from Nixon. Well, see you around! … Adios!”

Good old Johnny! Still loyal to me after all these years. I surely miss those days. Damn subversives! How can people be so ungrateful?

Anyway, let's see those chapters again.

Chapter 1

On Sept. 21, 1972, I signed Proclamation No. 1081, declaring a state of national emergency and proclaiming Martial Law.

Many are the criticisms that have been levelled against me for exercising my emergency powers under the 1935 and 1973 Constitutions. Many denounce constitutional authoritarianism as merely a euphemism for blatant dictatorship and that Martial Law, despite all manifestations to the contrary, never was necessary. They obviously never read Notes on The New Society. I maintain, then and now, that Martial Law was a historical necessity, the saving grace of a society falling apart at the seams from the relentless assault of the left and the right. In order to save the nation from anarchy, communism and oligarchic fascism, I had to make the obvious choice: Crush the Marxists and make sure the oligarchs were my oligarchs.

The Philippines was a dying republic. Violence ruled the day, the economy was collapsing, and the people were losing faith in the government. Much as I wanted to introduce reforms, Congress was my nemesis and was always against me. My time in office was almost up, and I had not even made my country and myself any greater.

What would a man in my position do? I was being dubbed spineless and weak in the face of relentless opposition. While the Left was preparing for their revolution, the Right was staging a coup. Foreign logistics was providing muscle to the Muslim secessionist movement while my political opponents, especially my vice-president, were hell-bent on deposing me. There was even a scheme to discredit the only ones who remained loyal to me: the military. The opposition planned to reveal a supposed plan of the generals close to me to initiate a wave of terror and violence aimed at sowing fear and panic among the populace. This was to provide the rationale for Martial Law. By including me as one of the co-conspirators, they wished to discredit me before the eyes of the people whom I had sworn to serve. This, aside from their plans to assassinate me.

Well, I beat them all. I declared Martial Law. I launched the “New Society.” 

Chapter 2

The days immediately following the declaration of Martial Law were some of the busiest in my life. The Filipino people did not know what to expect, and we had to relieve their fears. It was so busy that I only played golf twice that week.

And, of course, we encountered opposition. Just like any government project, the launching of the New Society met resistance from a few misguided souls who did not like the idea. They did not share my vision for the grand restructuring of society. Naturally, I locked them all up.

This presented an immediate problem. We realized the extent of the opposition to Martial Law only after we had rounded up thousands. When I learned that we had detained a 10-year-old kid on charges of subversion, I decided to release some of them, and that partially relieved the problem of where to put them.

It should be emphasized that I released most, but not all. I left some over whom I could release at Christmas and on my birthday.

Releasing some of them gradually solved the problem of where to place the hundreds that I still left behind bars. Ninoy got a comfortable apartment with air conditioning and a colored TV; I always wondered why he kept on complaining. I opened the Bicutan Rehabilitation Center in southern Metro Manila, to serve as a showcase prison for the majority of our detainees. The VIPs got the maximum security unit at Fort Bonifacio.

There have been numerous misconceptions as to the status of Philippine detainees. To set the record straight once and for all, I must state that we did not have political prisoners during my dictatorship. We had public order violators—not political prisoners. There is a big difference. Mostly in terminology.

And one should always remember that, with the writ of habeas corpus suspended, I preserved due process for the citizens. No one could be arrested without my consent. The Arrest, Search and Seizure Order (ASSO) I was forever signing ensured this.

Many have poured vitriol and brimstone on my ASSO policy, denouncing it as an assault to democracy. They cite cases of torture, arbitrary arrests, and other so-called military “atrocities”. Torture, arbitrary arrests, and generally atrocious behavior were never a policy of mine. I told the arresting officers time and again to practice restraint, but I generally kept a hands-off policy. I mean, to do otherwise would be depriving my men of their constitutional right to recreation. “Assault on democracy”—who are they to say so? My rendezvous with destiny was anchored on democratic principles. I could not be held back by a few measly subversives. Time and again, I offered them amnesty if they would only keep quiet and let me sleep in peace. They refused. They stayed in. After all, fair is fair.

Chapter 3

Since Spanish days, it has been every peasant’s dream to be able to till his own land. And that vision was only realized in the New Society. Let me tell you the story.

In the weeks since my official declaration of Martial Law, I introduced the land reform program that attempted to “emancipate the tenant from the bondage of the soil.” Because there were still some die-hards who doubted my ability to save the country from ruin—the rest were behind bars—naturally I had to find ways to boost the new regime. PD 27 was the perfect scheme. Behold! The public applauded. After land reform was launched on November 2, 1972, my place in power was strengthened and no one could possibly challenge my rule—and get away with it.

I also introduced other programs, likewise seeking to reduce the huge equity gap between the farmers and elite—corporate farming, the formation of cooperatives like Samahang Nayon, rural credit extension, and government resettlement projects, just to mention a few. Land reform was called the “Cornerstone of the New Society.” PD 27 promised to the tenant either three hectares of irrigated land or five hectares of unirrigated land.

Of course, promises are made to be broken. Those at the top knew all the while that this was not physically possible. Since PD 27 covered 1,343,217 hectares of land, to be divided among a total of 1,078,810 tenants, each of them could at best receive less than 1.5 hectares.

A new threat to national security started when news of the secret was leaked and people began assailing the entire land reform scheme as bogus.

Charges were also repeatedly raised by the neglected bulk of the peasant population. The sacadas, for example, claimed that while world market prices for sugar had increased, living conditions of farm workers were as miserable as ever. Ninety percent were still said to live below the poverty line of the P7,000 yearly income set by the Ministry of Social Services and Development.

It was at this critical point that I saw no better alternative than to call for military action. Don’t you believe it is high time we put in a good word or two for these staunch men? If you remember, I personally increased their budget by about 500 percent over four years, from P880 million in 1972 to P4 billion in 1976. The cost of uniforms, M-16’s, medals, boots, haircuts, sports cars, and video sets may have been high—but it was worth it. The New Society would have fallen apart if not for the military’s firm and loyal support. Gentlemen, I salute you! What’s one abuse when the men committing it are helping me?

Chapter 4

Martial Law was a harsh but crucial step in dealing with the state of rebellion. Harsh, because it required numerous sacrifices on the people’s part. Some complied, others carried on with their subversive ways. Martial Law was also necessary if the republic was to continue. Rebellion had taken on an urban front in the early storm of the 1970s, causing widespread alarm among the city folks.

The mania for waging strikes reached its peak in 1969, when more workers launched mass actions than in any other period in the nation’s history. The foreign-dominated industries had real cause for alarm, so, in their hour of need, I was called upon by God to save them from crisis.

Proclamation No. 1081 was timely in the sense that it prohibited strikes—the worker had no choice but to submit. Along with the restrictions on travel and a four-hour curfew, General Order No. 5 was enforced, banning strikes and declaring demonstrations illegal. The big businessmen were grateful.

With inflation tightening its grip on the economy, we were in no position to tolerate strikes. “Discipline” was the keyword used in those days. For the worker, discipline meant a minimum wage falling way below the daily subsistence level of P63.22 set by the Wage Commission. Despite occasional increases, real wages declined by 13 percent between 1955 and 1965, 3 percent between 1965 and 1972—in the first two years of the New Society, they dropped by as much as 30 percent. Considering the state we were in, I believe that was fair enough.

Things were rather peaceful until October 1975, when subversive elements of the La Tondeña company waged the first post-1081 strike. It marked the beginning of a period of labor unrest. Despite efforts to clamp down on strikes, total work stoppages registered in 1977 and 1978 resulted in 1.9 million hours of production lost. This had a disastrous effect on the economy and became largely responsible for the 25 percent inflation the following year. Some people never learn.

Despite Martial Law restrictions, a group of “oppressed” workers went ahead and formed Kilusang Mayo Uno (KMU), which would emerge as the biggest trade union seeking to challenge the government. Nevertheless, hoping to make peace with the labor leaders, I signed into law, on August 20, 1981, Cabinet Bill No. 45, a new strike bill that attempted to boost the normalization scheme and at the same time restored to the worker the right to strike provided he met certain conditions.

Like most acts during my administration, Cabinet Bill No. 45 was assailed for its anti-labor character. Workers said it was too limited and even threatened to stage more strikes if ever the bill was approved. But I went ahead and signed it. Although Martial Law had already been lifted, the strength of the army was still behind me. I can clearly recall drawing cheers from assembled soldiers back in 1979 after announcing another round of military pay raises. I had everything then.

Chapter 5

One of the aims of the New Society was to instill a national consciousness, a spirit of selfless dedication on the part of the Filipino people to forward our march to progress. To betray this was the ultimate form of self-centeredness.

Many of our people are sadly afflicted with self-seeking interests. We could have dealt with them on an individual basis, mostly by locking them up, but we began to encounter obstinate resistance not only from individuals or small groups, but whole tribes.

What I am referring to are our national minorities, our brothers who somehow do not grasp our sense of nationhood. From the Moros in the South who think nothing but secession to the northern Kalingas, who seem to have an in-inborn racial hatred for dams.

It is easy to understand one’s sentimental attachment to a piece of ancestral land which you and your forebears have lived on for hundreds of years. But mere sentimentality should not impede national progress.

Take the Kalingas in the north. We were reeling under the impact of the Arab oil embargo. A power dam would have relieved our acute energy crisis. We had begun surveying the Chico river in the northern part of Luzon as the possible site for four dams, whose construction was to be financed by the World Bank. The power generated would be sufficient for the needs of Northern Luzon, especially the MNCs in the area.

The Kalingas, who happen to think of the Chico area as their natural preserve, began to impede our survey teams and create trouble. So a military escort had to be provided for the surveyors. Let it be put on record that I was never hardhearted towards my Kalinga brothers. I fully understood their plight. I heard they sent six petitions to me and a delegation, but I unfortunately was too occupied with the Miss Universe pageant to attend fully to the minor details of this issue.

After the pageant, I had dam construction suspended temporarily, in the hopes that the tribal hotheads would cool off.  I sent Manda in to try to talk some sense into them. He came there, I heard, fully equipped with the appropriate gifts: basketballs, chocolate bars, flashlights, and canned foods. A sack of gold would have been better, but the treasury did not have the gold to spare. This, and pressure on the reform promise. Oh, well, we were running out of money, land, and patience.

Finally, it was decided that we pull out Manda’s men and replace them with the 60th PC Battalion. I figured they would be a lot more efficient. Unfortunately, they began to say nasty things about the 60th PC so I ordered them out and replaced them with the 44th Army Battalion. Even so, the situation continued to remain tense. Some stupid guys even had to kill a tribal chieftain. I think his name was Macli-ing and created trouble.

The point here is that the multi-ethnic character of the Philippines prevented a sensible program agreeable to all. We had hopes that a New Society would succeed where others had failed in uniting the nation. Except for a few minor problems, like the Mindanao secessionists and other similar problems, I think we largely succeeded.

Chapter 6

On September 29, 1972, a week after I declared Martial Law, I signed into law Presidential Decree 6-A. What was PD 6-A?

For years, we had known something was wrong with the Philippine educational system. It failed to instill in our youth a national consciousness. It did not ingrain in our youth the discipline and ideals needed for nation-building. And, most of all, we could not meet our manpower quota, and the industry was complaining.

It was with this in mind that I earlier signed Executive Order 202 establishing the Presidential Commission to Survey Philippine Education (PCSPE). The Ford Foundation backed the survey financially, so as not to unduly strain our overtaxed treasury.

The Commission recommended certain organic changes in our educational system to bring it in step with national development goals. Since PD 6-A would never have passed Congress, I waited until 1081 before I signed it into law.

The Philippines, then, was not exactly rich and I welcomed World Bank financing to fund the educational reform projects the PCSPE recommended. Getting generous funding, we more or less developed the ability to educate our young in rhythm with the pace of industrialization in the New Society and the needs of our foreign investors.

We could not hope to push through with this if we let the students loose on this. Students have a way of meddling in things that do not concern them, like the Vietnam War and high prices and societal reform. Societal reform was not their business. That was my job, and they should stick to their books and stay in their classrooms.

Like any rational dictator, I had to find ways to prevent the students from acting in concert. After all, the riots and demonstrations before my declaration of Martial Law was not exactly a Junior-Senior Prom.

I let the Department of Education and Culture issue Orders 28 and 30. With these orders, I cleaned the schools of all subversive elements. I ordered a moratorium on the organization and operation of student councils and papers. It was, of course, a temporary measure, until our youth could rein themselves in and act more responsibly.

Knowing that I could not let them remain banned forever, I lifted the orders, provided they complied with certain requirements. To show my concern for their welfare, I signed PD 604 in 1975, forming the Kabataang Barangay to see their needs.

Nevertheless, the students continued to resist our attempts to reform the school system. In spite of General Order 5, which banned all forms of assembly, they continued to hold rallies and demonstrations. In 1977, they held a picket to protest the approved tuition fee increase called for by schools. During the latter part of 1980, they rallied together to protest the Education Act of 1980, which my men had hoped to get through Batasang Pambansa as quietly and as quickly as possible.

Somehow, we reached our manpower quota. By 1979, some 75 percent of the college graduates were unemployed, which constituted a large reserve pool of manpower that we could use in times of manpower shortages. With the establishment of the University of Life, with its 229 scholars training for positions of national leadership, we were able to ensure the creation of a new generation of technocrats able to manage the country’s affairs.

Indeed, it was this University of Life that kept the flame of New Society burning in the hearts and minds of the Filipino people. All in all, it was the only bright spot I saw in our educational system. 

Chapter 7

In the year preceding the launching of the New Society, the economic situation of the country was dismal. We had a chronic balance of payments deficit, and the economy was barely moving.

This was precipitated by several reasons. One of the major ones being our lack of intensive capital investments to develop a viable export-oriented economy that would stabilize our balance of payments. Only by concentrating on dollar-earning exports would we be able to relieve our payments deficit. With the launching of the New Society, I pledged to restructure the Philippine economy to meet our needs. I proposed to meet the challenge.

I signed into law the Agricultural Incentives Act and the Foreign Business Regulation Act to attract foreign investors to the Philippines. This, along with PDs 71 and 218, made the country an attractive business outpost for transnational corporations.

This move to attract foreign investors worked. Of the 3,840 domestic corporations with foreign equity registered with the Securities and Exchange Commission by 1977, a total of 2,406 had registered during Martial Law. While, in 1973, only USD3.72 million was invested in the Philippines, by 1980 it had reached USD320 million.

This was not, of course, without its problems. An infrastructure buildup to attract these companies cost a lot. At the suggestion of the World Bank and the International Monetary Fund (IMF), we borrowed from them. About time too: Our national treasury was about to go.

Unfortunately, we had little control over our borrowings. By the time 1981 came, our foreign debt had reached USD13.1 billion and we had to spend USD1.5 billion every year just to repay our debts. We even had to borrow from the IMF’s emergency fund, the Extended Fund Facility (EFF). Altogether, we borrowed around USD250 million from the EFF, and although it carried a high interest rate, we had to get it to stabilize our economy. We became the only Asian country to use the EFF.

By 1981, something was definitely wrong with our economy. Our balance of trade deficit reached USD1.75 billion, and the inflation rate was 22.5 percent. Our gross national product for that year inched up only by 4.7 percent, below the 7 percent we had targeted for the year and the lowest in the 1970s.

Until now, I cannot understand what happened. The World Bank assured me that, with the entry of foreign investors, our economy would stabilize and solve our problems. The New Society agreed to this, but somehow, it didn’t work. At least I made a lot of American and Japanese businessmen happy.

Epilogue

That was no easy time going over my memoir. Quite a ghastly experience. I stuck to the game plan we had devised, but the whole damn thing just didn’t work out right.

The phone is ringing again! But I thought I had it disconnected by this time.

“Yes? … Henry! … I’d like to finish the deal fast. Could you possibly… ”

The interruption was rude, and the voice at the end of the line gave a terse notice: “Sorry, pardner. I’ve printed 20,000 copies. But I’m calling off the contract. Reckon there isn’t any market for dictators’ memoirs any more. By the way, d’you got any interesting sexy stories in your mind? They say it’s in high demand.” ●

Published in print in the Collegian’s September 18, 1981 issue, with the headline “Memoirs: The Malacañang Years.”