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HEY, JOE
Mutinous soldiers or true
patriots?
By Ted Lerner
MANILA - It is difficult to overstate the
pleasing nature of the shade provided by an armored
personnel carrier (APC), especially on a searing-hot
morning in Manila. Because of its high, angular front
end, which juts up and away, even a blaring sun moving
toward high noon in the tropics can't deny the occupant
and a visitor a cooling space.
Staff-Sergeant
Navarta looked as though he was thoroughly enjoying the
refreshing shade of his particular APC, which was parked
right in the middle of what is usually the busiest road
in town. A Sunday morning would normally see this road
filling up with cars flocking to the high-end malls of
this the commercial center of Manila. But today the
street and everything around it was completely deserted,
except for several hundred government soldiers and
police placed at various parts, making sure absolutely
no vehicle entered the area.
Navarta exhibited
no nervousness, no tension, and seemed perfectly at ease
with his surroundings. The situation belied his mood
because just about 200 meters away, well over 100 young
renegade soldiers from various branches of the
Philippine Armed Forces had taken over the swank Oakwood
Premier Hotel and Condominium. They had apparently wired
the grounds outside and the building inside with
explosives. They were demanding the resignation of
Philippine President Gloria Macapagal-Arroyo, Defense
Secretary Angelo Reyes and several other people in the
government and military. They had also made some
stinging accusations of corruption in the government and
the military. They said they were willing to die for
their cause.
Arroyo had just minutes before gone
on television and laid down a 5pm deadline for the
rebellious soldiers to surrender. If not, she intimated,
they faced certain death in an assault on the building.
Navarta would be one of those tasked to go in the
building and do the dirty work. "I don't know what will
happen," he said with a shy smile. "I know some of the
guys in there."
"Do you think they will
succeed?" the visitor asked, amid the eerie air of utter
quiet that hung through the entire area, which is
normally bustling with commercial activity.
"I
don't know," he said. "If one of my commanders says he
is supporting the rebel soldiers, then that's what we'll
do. We'll just wait and see."
"What do you think
of Defense Secretary Angelo Reyes?" he was asked. Reyes,
the questioner pointed out, was the one the rebels
wanted to resign over corruption charges. He was also
the man who as head of the armed forces back in January
of 2001 broke the chain of command and withdrew his
support from the duly elected president, Joseph Estrada.
"Wasn't that also a coup, and how come that was
considered okay?"
"Yes, you are right," Navarta
said. "That was a coup. You know, if you asked 100
percent of the military men, 70 percent will tell you
that they don't like what happened to president Estrada.
He is our commander-in-chief. We don't like Reyes.
Whenever he speaks to us, and then he turns away,
everybody boos him."
"Well how come that the
military doesn't seem to do anything about it. Why not
try and return Estrada to the presidency?"
"Because that is what our superiors said so we
just go along with what they say."
The idea that
he might have to fight fellow soldiers in just a few
hours didn't seem to bother Navarta, because, it seemed,
he didn't think it would come to that. Indeed none of
the others on the government side out there on the
street did either. Considering the talk of coup and
rebellion, the whole scene seemed extremely laid back
and more than a little relaxed. An uprising with a
uniquely Philippine twist to it.
Scores of army
men and policemen had taken up positions on the road.
Actually, the phrase "taken up" makes it sound more
intense than it was. It's more like they were there
hanging out. In the shade of one overpass, several dozen
army men in fatigues lay on the street. Some were eating
meals out of styrofoam boxes, other were busy sending
text messages on their mobile phones, others taking
naps.
"Hey, Joe, how are you doing?" one called
out with a smile, which prompted the other men to laugh.
A little farther back hundreds of metal riot shields
leaned up against the wall of the nearby train station.
Under the odd collection of trees jutting out of the
concrete, men in fatigues wiped themselves down with wet
towels, smoked cigarettes and dozed off. Two blocks away
at the Shell service station, about 100 police had taken
over the station and were busy downing their midday
meals.
The Oakwood sits about a block away from
the main road and it wasn't a problem to get down there,
as nobody from the government side outside on the road
bothered to stop anyone. About 50 journalists and
photographers were relaxing under trees and on the lawns
outside the Intercontinental, which had been totally
evacuated and was now locked. This whole area was
apparently the rebels' area as several rebel soldiers,
all in military fatigues, armed and identified by their
red armbands, lounged outside of the hotel. Across the
way, several armed men, also with red armbands, walked
around in front of the Oakwood and up and down the
shopping arcade.
The rebel soldiers were all
young - 20s and 30s - and looked serious. Except for a
little idle chit-chat with some members of the press,
they didn't talk. Occasionally they politely asked
everyone please to stand back from the building. There
was nothing nerve-racking or overly tense about the
situation, though. The soldiers seemed almost
nonchalant.
A large cardboard box had been
placed at one corner of the parking lot and a wire
snaked out from underneath and went all the way over to
the front of the Oakwood.
"The rebel soldiers
said that was a bomb inside," said one photographer.
That didn't seem to worry too many people as many of the
photographers and writers just sat on the nearby curb
only a few feet away. Apparently the soldiers had
planted bombs in various places along the mall area.
They said they only planted the bombs in order to
protect themselves if the government decided to attack
them.
By taking over the towering Oakwood they
picked quite a symbolic setting. The Oakwood is actually
apart of the busiest commercial area in the Makati
financial district, the hub of Philippine finance,
banking and commerce. The building, the complex and
indeed much of Makati is owned by the Ayala family. If
they were looking to make a statement against the old
order, this place seemed the right place to do it.
Certainly one couldn't imagine Arroyo attacking a
building complex belonging to one of her biggest
supporters.
The main clientele of the Oakwood
Hotel is foreigners. Earlier in the day, after seizing
the building and supposedly planting explosives around
the complex, the rebels evacuated the residents there.
This was one of the first pictures picked up by
international television. The very sight of foreigners,
women and children included, being herded on to waiting
buses by rebels in the business district of Manila,
surely wasn't going to do the country any good in the
coming months.
But obviously, the rebel soldiers
figured they had a bigger message to get out to the
world. Their accusations, pronounced earlier on
television by their leader, Navy Lieutenant Antonio
Trillianes, were stinging. They accused the higher-ups
in the military and government of selling bullets and
arms to enemy groups such as the Muslim and communist
insurgents, groups to whom many young soldiers were
losing their lives. They accused Defense Secretary Reyes
of committing terrorist acts in Mindanao in order to
justify more aid from the United States in the name of
the "war on terrorism". They accused the president of
failing to do anything about these complaints of graft
and corruption in the military and government. And they
could speak from experience, as all of these rebels had
served in Mindanao and had seen fellow soldiers die by
the score.
Shortly after noon, the rebels
announced a press conference at about 3:30. At various
times in the afternoon, several soldiers from the
government side walked down to the Oakwood. They were
greeted by the rebel soldiers cordially and then
disappeared inside. At one point a mother of one of the
rebels came down and went inside to plead with her son
to give up. Soon afterward several of the rebel soldiers
had surrendered. As they left the Oakwood, followed by a
mob of about two hundred media men and women, they
hugged their commanders from the government side.
Other than that there was little in the way of
action. The government troops stationed a block away on
the main roads were obviously taking an extremely
low-key approach as no overt signs of an offensive
posture could be seen. The rebels standing outside the
Oakwood continued to maintain their calm posture. The
ever growing army of press people busied themselves with
sending text messages and cracking jokes.
Even
as the 5pm deadline approached the atmosphere never
reached anywhere near a tense level. In the parking
garage behind the Intercontinental the government side
had set up a small command center. The deadline was
extended by the government until 7pm as negotiations for
a settlement were going on. Just after 5 the government
held a press conference on the second floor of the
parking garage, where they presented 17 rebel soldiers
who had so far surrendered.
Over at the Oakwood
one could only imagine the kind of comments the hotel
would be receiving this week on the "Customer Comment"
forms that are on offer next to the front desk (Q: "What
could we do to make your stay better?" A: "Perhaps keep
the guns and rebels out of the lobby.").
The
current occupants of the luxury abode seemed comfortable
enough, if a little high-strung. Finally around 6pm, the
rebel soldiers held their own press conference inside
the sparkling sixth-floor lobby. Down on the first
floor, numerous wires snaked in through the door leading
to the supposed planted bombs. On a table, a wok full of
rice sat next to boxes of canned sardines and corned
beef that lay open on the ground, along with various
kinds of radios and other supplies.
Up on the
sixth floor, the rebel leaders sat lined up on handsome
cushioned wooden chairs while about 60 more of their
men, all armed, stood behind them. They faced an armada
of press people, easily 250 of them.
Several of
the rebel leaders got up and made long, impassioned
speeches. An agitated Lieutenant Trillianes continually
walked around and spoke into his mobile phone, refusing
to discuss anything with the press. Unlike the circus
atmosphere of the government press conference down the
block, the room remained fairly quiet as the soldiers
went down their list of grievances against the
president, the defense secretary and others. They said
they didn't want power, they didn't have a leader and
that they just wanted to open up people's minds to what
is really happening. They decried the corruption in the
military, asked why retired military men are living in
luxury homes in Manila, while the young soldiers are
making starvation wages while dying for their country.
One heavily armed soldier wondered why they've been
fighting the Moro rebels in Mindanao for 35 years, and
yet "they haven't run out of bullets".
After
much negotiation, the rebels eventually decided to call
it quits at about 9pm and they were taken back to their
barracks. Arroyo at least promised to conduct an
inquiry, but she has said the soldiers will face
military justice. But it probably won't be that easy.
When Arroyo and Reyes proclaim that "the
constitution must be upheld", and that "the chain of
command must not be broken", the pleas surely ring
hollow. For it was Reyes who literally broke the chain
of command two-and-a-half years ago by withdrawing his
support from then-president Joseph Estrada, an
unconstitutional move that handed then-vice president
Arroyo the presidency. How they can hold the young
soldiers to a different standard will surely be an
often-asked question in the weeks ahead.
One of
the more striking incidents of the day occurred at the
rebel press conference after one particularly
impassioned speech in which the soldier railed against
entrenched corruption. As soon as he had finished
speaking, the assembled crowd of media people actually
burst into applause. It was exactly at this point that
it was obvious that whatever message these men were
trying to impart, it was ringing true to a good many
Filipino people.
One got the sense that there
was no outrage from the public over what these men had
done. Sure, their methods will be a cause for debate in
the weeks and months to come, and their actions, on the
face of it, have given the Philippines a black eye in
the international arena. But Filipinos have always
reserved a place in their hearts for young, good-looking
and idealistic men who are willing to risk their careers
and families to do something for their country. On the
other hand, many Filipinos have nothing but revulsion
for the old-school fat cats and traditional politicians
who they feel have continued to enrich themselves at the
expense of the country. The juxtaposition couldn't be
more striking.
Nineteen hours after it began,
the soldiers, tanks, trucks and press vehicles gave the
darkened streets of Makati back to the Sunday-night
taxicabs. The siege was over. But one gets the feeling
that the intrigues, and the fallout from this
extraordinary day in Manila, have only just begun.
Ted Lerner is the author of the newly
released book of Asian travel tales, The Traveler
and the Gate Checkers, as well as Hey, Joe - A
Slice of the City, an American in Manila. E-mail
ted@hey-joe.net
or visit www.hey-joe.net.
(Copyright
2003 Asia Times Online Co, Ltd. All rights reserved.
Please contact content@atimes.com for
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