It has been 24 years since the EDSA People Power Revolution, with opinion seemingly divided over the legacy it has left. But when the dust finally settles, Filipinos should never forget the sacrifices Salvador “Doy” Laurel made to bring about a moment in our history that has been described by people all over the world as glorious. In retrospect, it seems fitting that the former vice president’s favorite song was “The Impossible Dream” as subsequent events would show.
Doy Laurel dreamed about serving his country as president, unifying a fragmented opposition by forging the United Nationalist Democratic Organization that successfully trumped majority of the candidates fielded by the KBL machinery of Ferdinand Marcos during the 1984 elections. This was the signal the opposition was waiting for to increase the pressure against Marcos. It looked like Doy was just a few months short of realizing his dream when Marcos decided to hold the snap elections in 1985 because he was, for all intents and purposes, the only logical choice to challenge Marcos. Add to this the fact that Ninoy Aquino’s widow, Cory, had publicly declared her support for the opposition’s standard bearer.
But a group that had attached itself to Cory wanted her to run — counting on the enormous sympathy people felt for the grieving widow of a slain martyr. People like Cardinal Sin talked to Laurel, pressuring him to give way to Cory. It was one of the most agonizing moments in his life — but perhaps Doy was inspired by the example of his father who always put country first before anything else.
It can be recalled that Jose P. Laurel was charged with treason for serving as president under the Japanese-controlled government during World War II. But in his eloquent defense, the older Laurel said: “I am neither pro-Japanese nor pro-American, I am pro-Filipino… There is no law that can condemn me for having placed the welfare of my people over and above that of America . . . I do not claim to be a hero . . . what matters is that I am innocent before my conscience and my God . . . I shall face my Creator in full confidence that I had dedicated my powers, my talents and energies to the service of my country at a time when she needed me most.”
Doy agreed to run as vice president after being assured by Cory that all she wanted was to remove Marcos and that Doy, as Prime Minister, would run the affairs of government, with these assurances contained in a written agreement initialed by Cory. Unfortunately for Laurel, this decision to give way signaled the beginning of the end for him.
In Cecilio T. Arillo’s book Greed & Betrayal: The Sequel to the 1986 EDSA Revolution (given to me by Atty. Pancho Villaraza), several chapters disclosed how Doy was “systematically eased out of Malacañang’s inner circle during the 100-day honeymoon period of the Cory government,” reduced to being an outsider “whose access to the presidency was being substantially sabotaged by a cordon sanitaire.”
Arillo details how people who gambled their lives and gave up so much felt betrayed because they were not even consulted about the abolition of the Constitution, the Parliament, the Supreme Court, all local positions, and worse, the Office of the Prime Minister — ironically just two hours after the formal turn-over by Cesar Virata at the Executive House. (In hindsight, perhaps all the controversies surrounding the current Constitution would not exist today if they had not hastily changed the 1973 Constitution.)
“It was political treachery of the highest order,” Doy reportedly said, adding that “a new power group had quietly taken over Malacañang” — unilaterally setting up a Revolutionary Government. Laurel knew then that this manipulation was “planned from the very start,” and that Cory’s advisers were “determined to monopolize power.” The people around Cory became even more vicious, driving a wedge between her and Laurel, branding him as a traitor and calling him a wimp just because he tried to “live by the covenant” and continued to “keep faith” in the Aquino presidency. The most painful of all, with all the sacrifices he made, was to be publicly ridiculed as a “bangaw” (big fly) by Cory herself.
Those who remember Doy are seeing parallelisms between the late vice president and Mar Roxas (whose grandfather Manuel A. Roxas ironically pardoned Doy’s father). Like Laurel, Mar also dreamed of becoming president and serving the people, working so hard to attain this dream. But the surge of emotion and sympathy triggered by the death of Cory Aquino catapulted Noynoy to popularity — an opportunity used by some to pressure Roxas into giving way and sliding down to the vice presidency.
But even before the LP is yet to win in the May elections, infighting between many groups plus the reported existence of an LP mafia is widening the fracture within, as Noynoy himself admitted when he said he was stepping in to take control. The cracks appeared when Serge Osmeña broke away, bitterly complaining that a powerful mafia block was making decisions for the LP standard bearer.
Insiders confirm a power struggle between the supporters of Mar and Noynoy — reportedly made worse by the slide in Noynoy’s ratings even as Mar consistently tops surveys for the vice presidency. However, Noynoy’s advisers are reportedly bent on keeping the power to themselves, having already decided who should get what position in Noynoy’s Cabinet.
History indeed has a way of repeating itself — because it would seem that the same history is beginning to unfold in the case of Mar Roxas. Like Doy Laurel, it would be most painful for Mar to find himself with a dream that had become impossible.
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