TIME: Almanac 1993/TIME Almanac 1993.iso/time/121189/12118900.037

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                ▌Xì                                                          WORLD, Page 50

THE PHILIPPINES

Soldier Power


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