Marcos' "Yes and Yes" Vote

Another big win in a referendum under martial law

The Manila street sweepers were the first to arrive, dressed in their spectacular red gloves, pants and hats and yellow shirts. They were followed by nurses, municipal office employees and flag-waving members of the Kabataang Barangay, a civic beautification organization for teenagers. Before long the Quezon and Jones bridges, which siphon cars across the Pasig River into Manila's downtown Ermita district, were too clogged for the traffic to move. By the time President Ferdinand Marcos, First Lady Imelda, Daughter Irene and Son Bongbong reached the Luneta grandstand in Rizal Park, fully 1.6 million supporters were jammed in front of them waving flags and shouting "Yes and yes!"

The crowd had come at Marcos' request for a final massive rally last week on the night before the second nationwide referendum that Filipinos have been called to vote on in 14 months. Once again the question was whether Marcos, 60, guiding his country into parliamentary democracy by the questionable route of martial law, should head it as both President and Prime Minister after a new transitional legislature, known as the Batasang Pambansa, is instituted next year.

The outcome was never in doubt, and Filipinos gave Marcos yet another ringing endorsement. In early returns, the proposition that he continue in office was approved 4 to 1. "If Marcos ran a referendum free of fraud and coercion, he would still win with 70% of the vote," estimated an American observer in Manila. But every Filipino, whether he was friend or foe of Marcos, knew that the referendum was mostly a test vote on presidential popularity. A big yes would silence critics, while the balloting itself was a way for Filipinos of whatever persuasion to work off their frustrations. Said one former associate of the President: "The country is like a pot of boiling rice. It keeps simmering because Marcos keeps the lid just loose enough to let off steam."

Not that steam is building up all that fast these days. Though martial law has resulted in the loss of considerable political freedom, the Philippine economy after five years of stern rule appears to be performing relatively well. According to the government, unemployment has dropped from 7% to 4.5%, inflation is down from 45% to 7% annually, real gross national product last year increased by 7.6%. There is also widespread appreciation of the law-and-order the regime has established. Foreign businessmen, for instance, have been attracted by liberal investment terms and the fact that as a result of martial law there are no more rowdy private armies harassing them out of tribute. But just to make certain that people knew exactly to whom they were saying "yes and yes," Marcos last week showed that Santa is not the only one who hands out presents this time of year.

Campaigning in Manila, for instance, attractive Imelda Marcos one day announced supercheap prices for chickens in four public markets; the next day she granted 10% pay raises to 10,800 street sweepers, as well as thousands of policemen, firemen and schoolteachers. Addressing the vast throng gathered at the Luneta bandstand, she promised the construction of more markets, a sports center, railway system and hospitals. "These are all in the planning stage," the First Lady explained pointedly. "They will materialize only if the national government under President Marcos continues."

To demonstrate that his administration was not as repressive as critics have charged, Marcos ordered controls on speech and assembly lifted for the duration of the seven-week campaign. That was of limited help to the students, liberal upper-middle-class families and pre-martial law political opponents who constitute his primary opposition.* All three leading Manila newspapers are owned by Marcos' friends, and the five television stations are controlled either by friends or by the government itself. TV was full of spot commercials, to the gaudy music of Land of Hope and Glory, urging viewers to vote. Newspapers gave heavy play to what Marcos said; when opponents answered back, the stories were often buried deep on inside pages.

With odds like that stacked against them, all but the hardiest of Marcos' critics decided to sit out the referendum. One who spoke up, however, was former Senator Jovito Salonga, whose oratorical skills match those of Marcos. "If 90% of the population loves him," Salonga asked 300 University of the Philippines students, "why does he need martial law?" Former President Diosdado Macapagal, meanwhile, made the rounds of the city's civic clubs. "Sixty thousand people have been arrested over the past five years," Macapagal told his audiences. "Let him run in a free election, and he'll get a worse beating than Indira Gandhi."

Marcos felt he was so far ahead in voter popularity that he teased his critics more than he responded to them. He defied them to band together to wage a specific campaign. "They keep running off to their corners where they can talk all alone to their supporters," said Marcos. But in view of the overwhelmingly pro-Marcos returns from the polls, apparently there were not very many supporters to whom the critics could talk.

* Marcos' most relentless opponent, imprisoned former Senator Benigno S. Aquino Jr., by contrast, last week savored victory of sorts. After hearing Aquino argue that his murder conviction under martial law was improper, a panel of Marcos-appointed judges temporarily suspended proceedings in the case.

This file is automatically generated by a robot program, so viewer discretion is required.