Duterte was backed by some of the most reactionary elements of Philippine society, from the Marcos family to former President Joseph “Erap” Estrada whom the left had helped oust, from Gloria Macapagal Arroyo, who tried to imprison the ND left’s people in Congress, to former President Fidel Ramos, a Marcos era holdover and very definitely allied with the US military. If this is so, why did the CPP amiably accept the Duterte candidacy? One hypothesis is that the ND left believed in Duterte’s promises, because of their long relationship in Davao City. Another, which seems more cogent, posits that Duterte was the kind of brutal, power-hungry, and self-indulgent president needed to jumpstart the revolution from its long stasis. That is a kind of “Simon tactic”—it must get worse before it can get better—named after a character in the national hero José Rizal’s novel El Filibusterismo. A third hypothesis says that the CPP has been reluctant to let go of the analyses that served as a framework for its struggle since the 1960s and that it has not taken adequate consideration of the emergent imperialisms in a multi-polar world. Hence, it continues with its attack on the Duterte-US regime, ignoring Duterte’s growing dependence on loans from China, as his self-indulgence and his Tokhang deplete the Philippine government treasury. What is clear, however, is that the Philippines is once again, as in 1896, at the nodal point of powers contending for global dominance. How the Filipino people will conduct themselves this time could mean either dissolution or survival for a nation cobbled out of 7,400 islands and 150 ethno-linguistic groups.
By December 19, 2017, calling Duterte a “drug-crazed monster,” the “country’s number one terrorist,” and a “madman,” the spokesperson of the NPA’s Merardo Arce Command said, “The revolutionary forces join the broad united front of all peace-loving citizens in the country to oppose and oust Duterte and install a government respectful of justice, genuine democracy, and freedom.”[15] The lines were now drawn.
The Pushback Against Nada (Nothingness)
As Duterte’s term staggered toward the end of its first year, opposition was beginning to congeal into a hard reality. The blatant incompetence of many of his appointees and the unabashed self-indulgence of his coterie—some two to three hundred are said to accompany him on state visits—merely underscored the lack of a core vision to his administration. Whether Senator Trillanes fully realized (and he likely does, which explains the ferocity with which he confronts Duterte) the meaning of his statement that nothing(ness) lies at the core of the Duterte governance, it is clear such nihilism can only disrupt and break, not create. The degree of stability forged since the overthrow of the dictatorship, no matter how lurching it has been, enabled the archipelago to rebuild its economy, pay back the loans looted by the Marcos clan and cronies, and reinstitute means of governance destroyed during his one-man rule. It may not have gone far enough in terms of democratization—economically and politically—but the current recurrent shock and awe tactic of Duterte’s governance is a far cry from it.
Palpable evidence of how the policy of nada has been so terrible is the destruction of Marawi City, the only visibly Muslim city of the Philippines. While the rebellious Maute Clan allied itself eventually with ISIS, at least nominally, Duterte’s volatile handling of the Moro issue—now vowing to pass the Bangsamoro Basic Law which would give them self-governance, then conveniently forgetting it; now calling the rebellious Moros his friends, and then abruptly threatening to eat their livers—undoubtedly turned the conflict acute. No one now can foretell what will happen in the area.
Duterte’s supporters try to fill in the nada at the heart of his bluster, offering federalism, Constitutional change, and mass indoctrination through the barangay (village) councils, which are new organizations formed under the duress of Tokhang and in expectation of reward. Crowds of people are transported or made to transport themselves hither and yon—to call for national martial law, or federalism, or a revolutionary government, or even for the fraudulent promise of a distribution of the Marcos wealth. What is clear is a search for a vision that is absent, as Duterte takes the axe to the institutions of governance which, even to the paltriest degree, enabled some checks and balances. He warps the media, calling those who wouldn’t toe the line “fake news” even as his troll bloggers parlay a plethora of fantasy; he has transformed Congress into a rubber stamp, dominated by some exe crable personalities; he swings at the Office of the Ombudsman and the Supreme Court, miring them in chaos and controversy; he has purged the national police and filled the gaps with his “Davao boys,” and now attempts to bribe the Armed Forces of the Philippines with a one-hundred-percent increase in base pay.
None of these will enable the nation as a nation to survive. All his political moves have been simply to eradicate opposition and to strengthen provincial warlords—to what end, no one knows for certain. Mainly to keep himself in power, even as the currency plummets to its lowest value in eleven years and the balance of trade suddenly shows a deficit. There is reward and punishment aplenty in the Duterte government—largely based on flattery or what he calls “loyalty.” A newly appointed chair of the Dangerous Drugs Board made the mistake of saying that a billion-peso drug rehabilitation facility was useless. The president made the chair resign immediately. A congressman whose own party became so disgusted by his antics in defense of the president that they disowned and expelled him is the new presidential spokesman. The least taken in are the women who are familiar with how batterers maintain control and eradicate the self of the battered.
As the anti-drug campaign showed its essence as nothing more than a killing spree, the initial shock turned into outrage. The spark was provided by a nineteen-year-old, the son of an overseas worker who was brutally killed by fourteen motorcycle-riding “vigilantes”—the foot soldiers of Tokhang. He had no criminal record and was simply closing the small family store when he was abducted, taken to an isolated area, and beaten. He was then told to run and the poor young man couldn’t, because of his clubfeet. The assassins mauled him and broke his arm before shooting him dead. His mother, arriving from Kuwait, unleashed her grief with the declaration that she had to kiss her employer’s feet three times to be allowed to fly home and attend to her son’s burial.
With nearly ten million working overseas, this kill had a resonance that went far and deep. The country hasn’t managed to contend with its guilt over this semi-slave trade and the sale of women, and an untoward incident toward a female overseas worker taps into an abiding anger. The Catholic Church, which had been diffident in its dealings with President Duterte, decided to ring its bells for ten minutes for forty days in mourning of those killed in the “drug war.” September 21, known as the day the late Ferdinand E. Marcos imposed martial law on the country way back in 1972, was a day of rallies and marching and assemblies. By November 1, the Day of the Dead, thousands of candles were being lit for the Murdered of the Duterte Regime, which had earned for itself the ND left’s traditional denunciation of being linked to US imperialism.
15
Zea Io Ming Capistrano, “Reds Vow to Overthrow Duterte,”