ISOLDE D. AMANTE:
What do you remember most from President Duterte’s first State of the Nation Address (SONA) a year ago? For me, what stands out is the appeal he made for peace. “If we cannot, as yet, love one another, then in God’s name, let us not hate each other too much.” As for the rest of it and the SONAs of the presidents before him, only the sound bites surface quickest from memory’s depths.
What do you remember most from President Rodrigo Duterte’s first State of the Nation Address (SONA) a year ago? For me, what stood out was the appeal he made for peace. “If we cannot, as yet, love one another, then in God’s name, let us not hate each other too much.”
As to the rest of it and the SONAs of presidents before him, only the sound bites surface from memory’s depths. I had to dig into the Official Gazette’s online archives to retrieve some of the promises our recent presidents had made.
They’ve made plenty. These annual addresses to the nation, about the nation, usually suffer from the problem of sprawl. Those who write it often fail to resist the temptation to cover so much ground. A connected risk is that of getting lost in the details: the political speechwriter who can inspire us on the subject of the falling yields of corn has yet to be discovered.
The more realistic politicians (and ghost writers) know enough not to promise too many things to too many people. In his first SONA in 1992, then President Fidel Ramos said he thought that government had fallen short of supporting “the native talent and resourcefulness of the Filipino,” because government itself “has become too big and has spread itself too thin.” It’s one of the most honest things ever said in a SONA, but who remembers it?
Before Ramos, President Corazon Aquino attempted something similar in July 1987, a year and a half into what would turn out to be a difficult presidency. She had to admit that efforts to ask foreign creditors for more time had failed, and that nearly 40 percent of what her government was ready to spend in the year ahead would have to go to debt servicing. As a result, many of the reforms she wanted to pursue would have to wait. “I have aimed for modest successes to avoid a comprehensive failure,” she said.
No wonder that, in their first SONA, new presidents always mention the difficulties they’ve inherited from administrations before. It’s a necessary step, in order to manage expectations and avoid disappointing too many supporters. But this is also why we remember so little of these annual speeches. Their little tricks have become predictable.
Alliteration is one. President Ramos, for instance, offered his “hand in a partnership of patriotism and progress.” Another trick is the rule of threes, like “life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.” For such a shopworn tactic to work, it needs to come from someone who’s not only eloquent but also fresh. Recall Barack Obama’s star-making speech in the US Democratic National Convention in 2004, when he said, “These enemies must be found. They must be pursued. And they must be defeated.”
Maybe the political speeches that stay with us do so not just because of how the words were ordered, but because of our kind opinion of the individual who uttered them. The more hopeful a speaker made us feel, the more we remember. More than the President’s tone of voice or gestures, the trust they inspired in their ability to make promises real is what stays with us.
When a trick or turn of phrase feels too contrived, we scoff at it. President Gloria Macapagal Arroyo delivered in July 2001 one of the more ideologically focused and thought-provoking SONAs among our post-EDSA presidents. (“For I know that the greatest obstacle we as a nation must overcome is inside us. The enemy to beat is ourselves.”) But what many of us remember is her claim that three boys had written her letters, folded these into paper boats, and sent them to her by way of the Pasig River. She asked for too much.
Between a polished SONA and one that displays some spontaneity, it’s the latter that often works. If his SONA last year was any indication, President Duterte tomorrow might attempt some wisecracks or to veer off-script. Part of his performance in speeches (and it is, to be sure, a performance) is that he doesn’t like to stand on ceremony. It’s what appeals to his base and reinforces his image as “one of us.” Yet whatever is said in tomorrow’s SONA, the real test of any political speech is how much of it gets delivered, once the applause has died down.
(On Twitter: @isoldeamante).