Filipinos among Asia’s new Power 50 Elite

And you thought you’ve heard the last of Onel de Guzman of Love Bug notoriety.

Believe it or not, De Guzman now shares with Sheila Coronel, feisty founder of the Philippine Center for Investigative Journalism (PCIJ), the millions of Filipino texters, and ousted Philippine leader Joseph Estrada the honor of having been named among the top 50 Asian communicators by Asiaweek for the year 2001.

"Fame," wrote the American novelist Don Delillo, "requires every kind of excess."

Editors of the regional magazine evidently don’t agree.

They recognize that in the Information Age, power no longer comes from the barrel of a gun, or even from a fat dollar bank account. "It is the ability to communicate," they argue, "that creates power."

For the June 1-8 edition of the news magazine, the editors survey the powerful revolution in communication that has swept the Asian region in the last 20 years, spurred to greater heights by the advent of new technologies: satellite communication, the Internet, e-mail, mobile phones.

They take note that Asiaweek’s sixth annual survey has stricken off the list 35 of last year’s Power 50 Elite, many of them "old-style politicians and tycoons."

In their place are the mavericks of communication, from an Olympic medalist, to new entrepreneurs, to an Oscar-winning director of the movie Crouching Tiger, to Falungong spiritual leader Li Hongzhi, who is at the top of the list.

Sharing the honors are De Guzman, who is no. 11, Filipino texters, represented by risk-management consultant Gerardo "Gerry" Kaimo, at no. 20, disgraced Estrada at no. 35, and Coronel, who occupies the 46th place.

Terminator

If the Love Bug De Guzman allegedly created isn’t power, what is? It’s a forceful logic the small and great had to deal with not too long ago.

He can barely express himself in English, but the 25-year-old computer student is believed to have unleashed through the Internet the powerful computer virus that only last year, cost billions of dollars in data losses all over the world. It took no more than a little phrase to shut down the computer systems of the British Parliament, the White House, and the Pentagon, among other major world institutions.

And don’t count out the many PC owners who could not resist the allure of his invitation: "I LOVE YOU: A love letter for you." Poets and philosophers of yore would have envied him but to this day, he denies the charges.

"Whatever the truth of that, the young Filipino became an icon of the Internet age and a symbol of the power of hackers around the world to humble the mighty," notes Asiaweek.

Yes, he failed to finish his course at what is now known as the "school of hackers," but he has one big reason not to complain: the alleged crime was committed at a time when no Philippine law penalized it. The geek known to lurkers of the Internet as the "Terminator" got off the hook. Filipino copycats don’t have that luxury anymore. Because of his caper, a new law was passed prohibiting hacking.

Yet, there seems to be no truth to the rumors that he’d been hired by a multinational for a well-paying job. Asiaweek reports that De Guzman, son of a fisherman, has dropped out of school and is living with a sister. These days, says the magazine, he spends most of his time being a couch potato, reading programming books and playing video games.

His next objective? Go back to school in 2002, and then get a job programming for mobile phones and hand-held computers. "The Pentagon will be pleased to hear it," says Asiaweek.

Text power

The newsmagazine also pays tribute to text-crazed Filipinos who have invented a new language of political dissent by way of the mobile phone short message service (SMS).

"Everybody played a role," the magazine quotes Gerry Kaimo, who confesses to racking up US$1,400 in phone bills over four months in the period leading to People Power II and the ouster of Estrada. Texters from all walks of life passed on anti-Estrada tirades on that fateful Tuesday night last January, when the impeachment trial collapsed, prodded each other to join the new People Power movement at EDSA.

"Transmitting and forwarding messages that contained news, jokes, rumors and even animations, they showed the world the ultimate killer app: a wireless technology that could help topple a head of state," says the magazine.

Yet, ousted as he was, the former B-movie actor and small-town mayor Joseph Ejercito Estrada must be recognized for the way in which he marshaled the film medium to launch a controversial political career. The hero of the masses he was, and still is, despite a monumental trial he now faces on charges that he has plundered public coffers to the tune of at least US$80 million. The May 1 riots proved the potent image he has projected – and continues to project – as defender of the downtrodden.

"(Erap) is no longer Estrada as a person, but is already an idea, an essence beyond time," the magazine quotes Dr. Nicanor Tiongson, an expert on Philippine folk culture and films. Alas, Estrada’s trial may yet prove to be the telenovela of the first decade of the 21st century, at least, for Filipinos who can’t get enough of their daily dose of entertainment from television soap operas.

Femme fatale

Forty-two year old Sheila Coronel is, in many ways, a fighter. And don’t be deceived by her looks. In the interview with the magazine, one of the leading lights of the PCIJ almost complained that people don’t take her seriously "because I am small." Yes, she’s slight of frame and speaks in a young girl’s voice but her stories have led to the downfall of many top Philippine government bureaucrats, says the magazine. Asiaweek credits the PCIJ for helping bring down the Estrada government through a series of muckraking stories on his lavish lifestyle fed by public money.

"Claiming her biggest scalp has given Coronel fame and strengthened her credibility," notes Asiaweek. "It also shows that the pen is indeed mightier than the sword – especially when the one wielding it looks so harmless."

We couldn’t agree more.