No guts, no Gloria
Istill remember the day Gloria Macapagal-Arroyo became president. It was 2001, and I was a first-grader who was curiously watching my family members crowd around our clunky television set. It was still Erap then, and the TV showed images of people around the EDSA Shrine clamoring for his resignation. After what seemed like an eternity — or maybe just in first-grader time — I remember hearing the news that he did step down, much to everyone’s delight.
The same day, GMA came into power. Or perhaps it was the day after. The fault of fragmented memory, I suppose. But if there’s one thing I do remember, it’s the way it made me feel. That a woman had become president, that someone had risen up in the midst of the country’s shambles (back then, I didn’t know about the first People Power Revolution or Cory Aquino). This narrative left a mark on me, even if I wasn’t aware of it then. In my young mind, it made me realize that anything could happen, and I told my young self that I would support her ‘til the end.
But of course, as with some first impressions, they don’t always go beyond the surface. Then came the corruption charges — alleged embezzlement of P366 million worth of lottery funds. Then came the call to electoral official Virgilio Garcillano — the thing that started it all, leading to an inquiry into potential sabotage during the 2004 elections. Then came the NBN-ZTE broadband scandal.
It was at those times that I started watching almost everyone around me grow angry and weary. And yet I didn’t know why; I was still too young, I guess. And I guess I still held on to the naïveté that came with that first impression, a long time ago: the image of a woman rising up from the ashes of a mired administration. I guess I was just saddened by the fact that something so good, something with such potential, could spiral downward so quickly.
I sometimes wonder if this is how we approach most things. Perhaps our perspective on the world is shaped by where we were during those crucial points in time, by what is both present and absent in those moments. Sometimes, the impact of that first impression can create a narrative, a story so great that it blinds us to the objective reality at hand.
And perhaps it is this power of narrative, this “story bias,” so to speak, that governs the more questionable ways of the world. Often, it plays a familiar tune; we humans, after all, have the innate desire to make sense of the world, a facet that has allowed the survival of our species. It is no wonder, then, that most people who desperately seek out a cohesive story are the ones who need it the most — nor is it surprising that the story is one that promises salvation, such as my childhood experience with the onset of the GMA presidency.
Flash forward, and it is 2016. It has been years since the GMA presidency has passed, and a new government — led by President Rodrigo Duterte — has begun to unfold before us. Yet with all its newness, there are still some tidbits of the past, such as the resurgence of familiar faces from the Arroyo administration coming to power. And in recent times, after spending most of her time under hospital arrest for the PCSO fund scandal, the woman herself has been — quite suddenly, it seems — released.
These are decisions and developments that, no doubt, will be subject to much contention. But they’re hardly surprising. As another chapter in political history has been turned, so emerges a new narrative, one that’s reminiscent of my first grader days. The ashes have been rustled again, based on the unrest of the citizenry and the perceived failings of the newly ended administration. On another level, perhaps this comeback was the subtle revolt needed — for what better symbol of rebellion than to undo the knots of what the administration has done for so long?
But the narrative, no matter how alluring, still has its share of flaws. The narrative of GMA that I grew up with was earnest, but misplaced; I would like to believe I’ve learned more since then. I may not be in the right place to comment on what is to come after these new decisions are made. But whether this return is for society’s benefit or degradation, one thing’s for sure: let us hope that future decisions on these matters are not based on fear, or grievance — lest we put our future on hold once again, as so many others have done before us.
Did you miss her? With Gloria Macapagal-Arroyo’s plunder case junked, the controversial former president and current representative is now free at last. But should we welcome her back with open arms? And what does her victory mean for the country?