The Philippines Rebelling Against Marcos

By Susan Tifft

The mood was tense as the two men, clad in olive and gray and blinking into the glare of television lights, took their seats before a cluster of microphones in a social hall of the Philippine Ministry of Defense at Camp Aguinaldo. Behind them huddled about a dozen soldiers, some in full battle regalia. Outside, at the gates of the ministry, less than five miles from Malacanang Palace, the presidential residence in downtown Manila, heavily armed guards and tanks stood at the ready. When the two men began to speak, the reason for the precautions became startlingly clear, for they were proclaiming open rebellion against the 20-year regime of President Ferdinand Marcos.

Lieut. General Fidel Ramos, Vice Chief of the armed forces, and Defense Minister Juan Ponce Enrile announced that they were breaking with the unregenerate Marcos and called for his immediate resignation. Marcos, Enrile said, had committed fraud in the Feb. 7 special election, and should step down "while there is still time." Declared Ramos: "The time has come to reverse the situation."

By evening, Marcos, looking tired and shaken, held his own press conference. The President charged Ramos and Enrile with treason and called on them to "stop this stupidity and surrender." He then accused the pair of taking part in a plot to assassinate him and his wife Imelda. To prove that the conspiracy was real, Marcos trotted out one of the First Lady's personal bodyguards, who "confessed" before reporters that he was to have played a role in the murder. Later, Enrile angrily dismissed the conspiracy charge as "a bunch of bull."

Even as Marcos spoke, thousands of Filipinos streamed into the darkened streets, marching toward Camp Aguinaldo on the outskirts of Manila. The demonstrators, many of them carrying candles, were jubilant as they gathered outside the gates. "Cory! Cory!" they chanted, invoking the nickname of Opposition Leader Corazon Aquino, the slight, bespectacled widow of slain former Senator Benigno ("Ninoy") Aquino, who had challenged Marcos for the presidency and lost in an election tainted by ballot stealing and bloodshed. Aquino was leading a rally in the central Philippine city of Cebu when the uprising occurred at Camp Aguinaldo. Supporters, fearful for her safety, promptly whisked her into hiding.

As the crisis unfolded, the Marcos regime seemed in danger of unraveling. Jaime Cardinal Sin, who had recently thrown the weight of the Roman Catholic Church against Marcos, lost no time backing the renegade military leaders. "Our two good friends have shown their idealism," Sin told listeners over Radio Veritas. "I would be very happy if you could support them now." The station, owned and operated by the church, broadcast the names of prominent Marcos officials who, emboldened by Ramos and Enrile, announced their resignations. Among them: Postmaster General Rogelio Golez and General Ramon Farolan, the Philippine Customs Commissioner. "I don't think the government can function," said one high-ranking Marcos aide. "It's a very tenuous situation."

In Washington, the Reagan Administration appeared to have been caught off guard by the events. Ever since the snap election, the White House has tried to set a deliberately cautious tone. With two key U.S. military installations, Subic Bay Naval Station and Clark Air Base, at stake, the Administration did not want to rush into a denunciation of Marcos. The Philippine leader has a reputation for ruthlessness, and U.S. officials were concerned that he might use loyal elements of the military to crush his opponents. On the other hand, the White House did not want to be seen as abandoning Aquino, thereby driving at least part of the moderate opposition into the arms of the Communist New People's Army.

The decisive move by Enrile and Ramos seemed to encourage the Administration to adopt a sterner posture toward Marcos. Even before U.S. officials had a chance to debrief Presidential Envoy Philip Habib, who was flying home from the Philippines, the White House issued its strongest expression yet of anti- Marcos sentiment. Although the statement stopped short of endorsing the rebellion, it denounced Marcos for electoral fraud "so extreme as to impair the capacity of government in the Philippines."

Marcos' critics on Capitol Hill were equally outspoken. "Marcos has lost whatever shred of legitimacy he had," said Congressman Stephen Solarz, a New York Democrat. Republican Senator Richard Lugar, leader of the 20-member team of U.S. observers that monitored the Philippine election, was even more ominous. Said he: "President Marcos has lost the church, he has lost the middle class, and clearly he is now in the process of losing military support."

That was precisely what most worried Washington. Since Marcos declared martial law 13 years ago, the Philippine military has grown into a modern force of 230,000. But under General Fabian Ver, the armed forces' Chief of Staff, it has also become top-heavy with brass and riddled by corruption. Sagging morale has spawned sharp divisions within the ranks. A reformist movement, composed predominantly of young officers concerned about the corps' lack of professionalism, has emerged in the past year (see box). At his press conference, Marcos pointedly maintained that the bulk of the Philippine military supports him. Indeed, many soldiers and officers do not. That fact raised an almost unthinkable scenario: the possibility of a civil war between two camps of a divided nation, each backed by heavily armed military factions.

Both Enrile and Ramos were longtime Marcos loyalists who, for different reasons, had become progressively disenchanted with his regime. Until the Camp Aguinaldo press conference, Defense Minister Enrile had shown little sign of restiveness. There had been widespread speculation, however, that he would be leaving the Marcos Cabinet. But there was no warning that the Harvard law graduate and architect of martial law would help mount a revolt. What may have tipped the scales was Enrile's discovery that officers loyal to Marcos were about to arrest opposition leaders and members of the military-reform movement. The allegation was later denied by the Philippine President.

In a surprising disclosure, Enrile revealed last week that he had helped organize the reformists. He said his defection from the government was "an act of contrition for what I did during martial law," which Marcos had imposed between 1972 and 1981. Defending his dramatic action, Enrile explained, "I was affected by a moral dilemma: my loyalty to a man, and my loyalty to my country. I chose to serve my country." He added, "If I had had vision, I would have left the government long ago."

Central to the motivation of both men was General Ver, who had effectively appropriated their functions within the military and the Cabinet. The U.S. has long pressured Marcos to get rid of Ver, who last December was acquitted along with 25 others of conspiracy charges in the August 1983 assassination of Ninoy Aquino at Manila International Airport. Marcos announced last week that Ver would retire on March 1 and Ramos would become "acting" head of the armed services. But most military and government officials speculated that Ver would still keep his more powerful position as director of the civilian intelligence organization. "Marcos was just fooling us, fooling the entire world," Ramos told reporters.

Enrile and Ramos took pains to make it clear that they were not mounting a military coup, and would support Aquino against Marcos. "I believe in my whole heart that Aquino was duly elected President," said Enrile. "She is the rightful owner of the mandate of the people." Perhaps. But there was no indication that Marcos was prepared to loosen his lock grip on power without a fight. By week's end he was making increasingly menacing noises about taking action to "liquidate" the forces backing the two rebels. "We will not be able to stay from forceful action for very long," he warned.

Only hours before the electrifying events at Camp Aguinaldo, U.S. Special Envoy Habib boarded a U.S. Air Force plane to fly back to Washington after his week-long visit. President Reagan had dispatched the diplomatic troubleshooter to Manila to find some way of resolving the country's electoral crisis just as the National Assembly was formally declaring Marcos President. Habib is expected to make a report to Reagan early this week.

In light of the surprise revolt, it was not clear precisely what Habib had accomplished during his hectic meetings with Marcos, Aquino and church leaders. From the outset, however, his mission had been hampered by a presidential gaffe that had aroused suspicion on both sides. Though nearly all election-day reports of vote fraud involved Marcos supporters, Reagan offhandedly told a news conference on Feb. 11 that abuse might have occurred on both sides. A few days later the White House reversed itself, issuing a statement that blamed Marcos for the irregularities.

The flip-flop made for a cool reception at the presidential Malacanang Palace. Habib twice met with Marcos. On the first visit, the President handed Habib alleged photographic evidence of ballot stealing by Aquino supporters. Afterward, Habib had no comment, but Marcos said the veteran troubleshooter had assured him that the U.S. "was not in any way telling us how to run our affairs." Habib was similarly silent after a 55-minute visit with Aquino. The meeting was apparently cordial but ended on a somber note as Aquino reiterated her position that a truce with Marcos was impossible. Said she: "I made it clear that in no way could I be part of the Marcos government."

Aquino's tenacity was apparent earlier in the week when she kicked off her "People's Victory" campaign at a rally in Manila's Rizal Park. While hundreds of thousands of supporters swirled below her, Aquino announced a program of nonviolent protest designed to pressure Marcos into calling it quits. At the center of the campaign is a boycott of businesses, news media and banks controlled by the government or Marcos intimates. The culmination is a 24-hour work stoppage planned for this week, one day after Marcos' scheduled Feb. 25 inauguration.

As the boycott took hold, Manila was abuzz with speculation that some of the seven banks singled out by Aquino had lost large deposits and that the government-controlled Bulletin Today (circ. 250,000) had suffered a plunge in readership. But there was little evidence that the tactics had done more than make investors nervous. The day after the Manila rally, the price of shares in the San Miguel Corp., a blue-chip conglomerate controlled by Marcos Ally Eduardo Cojuango, plummeted 15%. Shunning San Miguel's products, which range from beer to ice cream, may prove difficult for most Filipinos. "Ask me anything," said one Manila businessman with a weak smile. "But don't ask me to give up my San Miguel beer."

Meanwhile, there were signs that the economy, already reeling from soaring unemployment and a foreign debt of $26 billion, was in for new jolts. Last week the Philippine Central Bank raised interest rates on treasury bills from about 20% to 30%. Commercial banks immediately hiked their prime and commercial lending rates. Reflecting a dip in business confidence, the peso fell 10% against the dollar. Said Felix Maramba, chairman of the Philippine Chamber of Commerce: "Marcos' credibility is zilch."

That observation was underscored by the international response to Marcos' re-election, which ranged from lukewarm to hostile. In 1981, when Marcos defeated a little-known challenger, he received 28 official letters of congratulation from leaders around the world. This time only the Soviet ambassador conveyed his best wishes. Several West European diplomats emerged from a meeting with Aquino last week and indicated that they might boycott Marcos' inauguration. And by week's end Belgium and Canada announced flatly that they would not attend. The Reagan Administration, for its part, had not yet decided whom it would send to the ceremony.

Before Enrile and Ramos threw down the gauntlet, Washington seemed content to play for time in the explosive Philippines. In testimony before the Senate Budget Committee, Secretary of State George Shultz urged Congress to avoid "precipitous action" against Marcos. But he hinted that the Administration might consider withdrawing from Subic and Clark if it could be determined that the Marcos government was illegitimate. "Let's put our stake in democracy and freedom above the bases," he said. Defense Secretary Caspar Weinberger went before the House Foreign Affairs Committee to argue against a cutoff in Philippine military assistance. Said he: "The only real beneficiary of a delayed or diminished military-aid program would be the New People's Army."

Congress was in no mood for such admonitions. By a vote of 85 to 9, the Senate approved a nonbinding resolution declaring that the Philippine elections were "marked by such widespread fraud that they cannot be considered a fair reflection of the will of the people." The next day, the House Asian and Pacific Affairs Subcommittee voted 9 to 0 in favor of a temporary cutoff of military and economic aid to the Philippines. Under the legislation, most military aid would go into a trust fund and would be released only after the President certified, and Congress agreed, that a "legitimate government has been established." Economic and humanitarian funds would be channeled through private voluntary organizations and the Roman Catholic Church. Such drastic measures may not be necessary if a peaceful way can be found to ease Marcos out. But that moment may still be a while in coming. At a press conference on Sunday, Marcos produced several more conspirators and, with General Ver close at hand, reiterated that he was in control of the Philippine military. "Contrary to the claim of some people," said Marcos, "the armed forces is united behind the President." Ramos, on the other hand, contended that 95% of the country's provincial commanders were sympathetic to the reformists.

The President seemed determined to go through with his inauguration this week. However, the government that he ushers in is certain to be a government in name only. After enduring martial law, the Aquino assassination and a corrupt national election, the Filipino tolerance for wrongdoing finally seems to have reached its limits. Nothing emphasized that point so dramatically as the thousands of civilians who flocked to Camp Aguinaldo on Sunday, effectively offering to serve as buffers to any possible action by Marcos against the reformers.

Whatever the outcome, last weekend's rebellion seemed to bring to a head a long-felt yearning for democratically elected leaders. Whether a transition of power in Manila can take place without bloodshed was, as this week began, in doubt. Unlike the grisly upheavals in Iran and Nicaragua, events in the Philippines last week seemed to unfold in a kind of slow motion that augured well for civil order. "There is a lot of caution in the Filipino people," noted one Pentagon official. Marcos may try to buy time by entering into negotiations with Enrile and Ramos. Even in that event, violence may be unavoidable. "If things remain as they are now, it will continue to be a stalemate," said General Farolan. "The military solution may have to be resorted to."

The first indication of how Marcos reacts under these volatile conditions may come this week if Aquino and her followers go through with their plan to stage a 24-hour strike. Marcos hinted last week that he might use force to quell any outbreak of civil disobedience. Stung by world opinion and holed up in a palace surrounded by barbed-wire barricades, Marcos may try to reassert his power. If that should happen, the only tempering influence left may be Cory Aquino. "She must steer a moderate course," said Businessman Jaime Ongpin late last week. "If she opts for violence, we will end up in anarchy."

With reporting by Sandra Burton and Nelly Sindayen/Manila