Teddy Locsin's Eulogy for President Cory

This is the moving eulogy given by Teddy Locsin for the late President Cory Aquino...

Throughout thirteen years of martial law, until I laid eyes on her again, I never thought that I would ever see the end of it. Least of all that my father would survive it. I am not much given to prayer or pious reflection but when I could set aside my anger, I prayed my father would see democracy again.

Late one afternoon, in San Francisco, I got a call. It was from Cory Aquino, for whom I had written one speech after her husband’s assassination. She said she had accepted Marcos’s challenge in a Snap Presidential Election. I put down the phone, and packed my bags, and reported to her at the Cojuangco Building.

I knew then she was the answer to my prayers. What I did not notice was that the closer we came to victory, which is to say the farther the prospect receded that the Marcos regime would survive, the less I felt the anger inside me. As each day passed, bringing me closer to the day I could get even, the less I felt the need for it as I spent more time with the woman who alone could make it possible.

I did not notice, but I was no longer looking back in anger, or looking forward even, to victory and vindication. Only now do I see. I had lived with my anger so long, only for the day to come when it no longer mattered to me. The only thing that counted was that I was living every day to the fullest, bringing out the best in me—for someone else. A dream I hadn’t had since I was a boy, feeding on stories of chivalry, had been achieved. I was serving a woman who was every inch a sovereign, all the more for scorning the slightest pretension to the role.

I did not realize it, even when I was already in the Palace, by the side of the President—among all her advisers, I like to think, the one who loved her most.

It never again occurred to me that I had scores to settle. And not until today, that I had passed up every chance to get even.

From the moment I came in from the airport and reported for duty, and she gave me in return the same smile she gave me on her deathbed, I never noticed… Not when I was with her in the campaign when she corrected me for not looking at the people I was waving at… Nor when I was with her in the presidential limousine looking intently, for her benefit, at the crowds at whom I waved… I never noticed anything. Except that I was with the only person that I would ever want to be with.

I certainly never noticed that I had left my anger behind. I don’t know how it happened. Except that Cory Aquino ennobled everyone who came near her. I have tried to say it publicly but never could finish. If you saw me as I felt myself to be, anyone would fall in love with me. I saw myself in that hospital room, a knight at the bedside of his dying sovereign, on the eve of a new Crusade, oblivious to the weight of the armor on his shoulders for the weight of the grief in his heart.

And because she always doubted my ability to be good for very long… Indeed, when my wife told Ballsy that I prayed the rosary at Lourdes for her mother’s recovery, Cory said, “Teddy Boy prayed the rosary? A miracle! I feel better already.” Because she doubted my capacity for self-reformation, she made it effortless for me by being herself. I did not notice that I was doing right by serving a woman who never did wrong. I am not sure how to take this moral self-discovery. It is so unlike myself. But if it will bring me before her again, I am happy.

the rage goes on...

This article titled "The Center cannot hold" is written by Patricia Evangelista and published in the Philippine Daily Inquirer - March 1, 2008.

AS I TYPE THIS, there are others who write their own manifestos, compelled by chance and conscience and circumstance to plug away on keyboards across the country. Every few minutes a new entry flashes across cyberspace: Lozada, ZTE, indignation in its varying forms, pleas for caution, calls to action, justifications for inaction, the long narratives of disillusionment seconded by the angry and frustrated.

I can't pretend to represent my generation. All of us are faced with a choice, and the fact of my youth does not mean that my choices reflect those made by my contemporaries. And yet there is something very wrong with CBCP president Jaro Archbishop Angel Lagdameo's claim that "Our youth seem to be very satisfied about what is going on in their lives." I cannot believe that anyone would be satisfied with this sort of life, with the rape of the Filipino nation occurring with daily regularity, and lie after moronic lie echoing from the gates of the Palace. Satisfied? I doubt if non-presence in an indignation rally is the only manifestation of public satisfaction. The millions of people scrabbling for a meal a day in this country do not go to rallies either, and yet I would hesitate to call them satisfied.

On Saturday, an article in Young Blood condemned all those who trooped to indignation rallies as essentially "blind and selfish clowns," who were either "misguided idealists" or "hypocrites to the bone." And while the writer spoke with righteous rage, he accused those "misguided idealists" of believing they have a monopoly on righteousness. What I find more astounding than his hasty generalizations on the motivations of all who protest the current corruption is his argument that all this rage against Gloria Macapagal-Arroyo is a waste of time, money and energy; as if the billions in public funds lost to corruption is not a waste, as if corruption has not deprived people of the housing and education the writer believes they deserve. I respect his choice to stay away, but perhaps it would be best for him to understand why others choose to go.

Many have said that all the confetti, all the rallies, all the thousands of people who have crowded in Ayala last Friday can do little more than derail traffic. Perhaps they are right. But I will join the next rally anyway, because I believe that it is wrong, appallingly, incredibly, brutally wrong, to allow those in power to believe they have the right to mortgage my future because they are wily enough to claw their way to power. To be silent is to tell every future Filipino leader that there is no limit to power.

Everyone is dirty in government, a pro-Arroyo rallyist told me. And perhaps that is true, but it is no reason to condone corruption and rank dishonesty when we see it, especially when it implicates the country's chief executive.

And this is where I'll tell you where I stand. I do not wish to oust Arroyo, although I support calls for her resignation or due process by impeachment. I wish I could say that I believe in the rule of law and end there. But I live in the Philippines where the rule of law is applied selectively, in very strange ways. How do we impeach, if Congress refuses to allow it? How do we prosecute, if the Ombudsman sits on the case? And so it's the streets for me, because I see no other way to say no.

Once upon a time, the voice of a white-haired dragon thundered over radios and television sets, raging that a nation cannot be run by a thief. It was a voice that galvanized a watching country into the streets, and reminded people of what they deserved. Now the dragon is a senator, and Joker Arroyo sits behind a microphone and helps along the current cadre of thieves. I believe the administration has lost all mandate, I believe the President must be held accountable, and I will go out and rally to add one pair of feet to the thousands who want the truth.

I'll tell you about a friend of mine. His flip-flops and jeans have been traded in for slacks and button-downs, there is a ring on his finger and a giggling, laughing one-year-old boy perched at the crook of his arm. He pays his taxes, he calculates his family's weekly spending; he has worked nights in call centers before clawing his way up the corporate ladder. He believes, very firmly, in the rule of law, and the birth of his son made him even more determined to create as stable an environment as possible. And yet, he says, while a small hand curled around his sleeve, that he is slowly believing that the way out is the way of the street. He cannot stomach knowing that the taxes the government bleeds from his paycheck, money that can be spent on bringing up his small boy, is being tossed into the pockets of the undeserving.

Yeats once wrote of what he thought was the inevitable end of humanity, when "the best lack all conviction, and the worst are full of passionate intensity."

I am not very certain where all this is going. All I know is that so much has gone wrong, and has gone on long enough.

some excerpts...

i have many things to write, but really haven't found the time nowadays... too many deadlines to beat and too many works to be done... this one's related to the ongoing Lozada saga that is gripping the country right now...

(from Manuel L. Quezon III column in the Inquirer)

To illustrate. The whole country knows he said, “Thomas Aquinas said the worst form of corruption is the corruption of the best.” But he also shared this story: “Rizal asked his brother Paciano, ‘Did God make us poor and silent, or we were so misgoverned we ended up that way?’ Paciano couldn’t answer. Two years later, Rizal wrote to Paciano, and said, ‘In my travels abroad I have the answer: We didn’t get the right kind of government from our leaders.’”

And he said, with a voice beginning to tremble once more, “We must make it too expensive for someone to screw up the country. Only then will the next person will have second, third, fourth thoughts about trying to mess the country up.”

And to me and a nun fascinated by the conversation, he said, “If you want to understand my moral compass, there’s this book I read [‘Leadership: The Inner Side of Greatness, A Philosophy for Leaders,’ by Peter Koestenbaum], in which this question was tackled: ‘Why is it that billions have walked the earth while only a few have stood the test of time? And yet those few lived at a time when there were many who were more powerful or famous than them?’ When a group of thinkers examined these people, they identified four polarities. First, they had a Transformative Vision, for example, Christ’s concept of love. Second, they had Courage, even if it meant going against the trend, like Mohammed. Third, they had a Firm Grasp of Reality. Fourth, they had Unbending Ethics. The four things form a kind of diamond and with all sides present, you have a formidable leader. But if any side is lacking it’s enough to doom any leader.”

for us, filipino workers

while reading conrado de quiros' column this morning at the inquirer.net, i happen to pass by this part, which struck something within me, and i feel i need to repost here...

"...More than any other year, 2007 was the year of the OFW. Filipinos are now spread all over the world, working their asses off to put food on the table of the families they left behind. The impact of OFWs was dramatically felt late in the year when, alongside the free fall of the dollar OFWs brought in record remittances, pushing the exchange rate down. It's not without sublime irony that the very people who are keeping this country's head above water are half-drowning: The same flood of dollars they've brought in has shrunk their income."

"...I hope this year brings better things. But that has always lain in our hands."

happy new year again everyone!