Our politicians can surprise themselves and become heroes

The politician as hero? I'm sure that the knee-jerk reaction to this notion will be: Are you kidding? And yet, when you reflect on it, next to the teacher (and this includes real, not politicking priests), the politician has the noblest profession of all.

Politicians are necessary -- even, if you will, a necessary "evil" at times -- in a free and democratic society. I know such terms have become trite from over-repetition and misuse, but the fact remains that the people elect politicians to be their representatives, their spokesmen, their defenders and the promoters of their hopes and dreams. If we continually condemn "politics" as a racket, and "politicians" as knaves, they will, debased by constant derision and pummeling, become such -- for decent, God-fearing, honorable men and women will shy away from embracing such a calling. Like a death wish, defining politicians as villains will become a self-fulfilling prophecy.

What we're seeing in this country today is a political climate poisoned by the escalation of name-calling and blame-pointing. The opposition takes every opportunity to embarrass the government; the government, as exemplified by the roars and bluster of the President, is growing mired in paranoia, accusing its critics and, naturally, the media of plots, conspiracies, and of lying.

I think it's time we paused from this never-ending war of attrition and took hold of ourselves. There are many sins, indeed, which can be attributed to the Estrada regime, and to the Chief Executive himself, particularly when he's importuned, ill-advised or "influenced" inordinately by his cronies -- yes, cronies -- and relatives.

The bitter controversy which continues to rage over the President's telephone calls to Securities and Exchange Commission Chairman Perfecto "Jun" Yasay (which Yasay defined as pressure and harassment, although he's tried, on second-thought, to backtrack -- somewhat) remains the scandal of the hour. As I've said, this is a controversy neither side can win -- although snap surveys see Yasay, it appears, emerging more credible than the President.

On the other hand, who will benefit from the outcome? Not Yasay, even if he wins the argument. As Jun himself has already announced, he will exit in a few days, or a few weeks anyway, once Congress passes the Securities and Exchange Act of 1999 bill -- which, by now, is a certainty, and merely a matter of the calendar. Not Erap, since he has already been savaged by the widespread impression that he puts the arm on agencies of government to "save" his pals (or family members, the whispers go). This is not a level playing field we're seeing, the apprehension mounts.

The biggest losers in such an agonizing period of despair are the Filipino people. I'm not speaking of economic benefits foregone, the prospects of foreign "investment" washed away, or a loss of confidence among members of our own domestic business community -- why is it that we always seek to quantify everything in terms of pesos and centavos, or dollars and cents? Our gravest loss would be our nation's morale, our self-confidence, our national spirit. An upsurge of cynicism contaminates everything in the social and political matrix. In the end, our children will grow up in the depraved delusion that corruption, graft, prevarication, then inevitably violence, murder and the violation of "others" for personal gain are ordinary -- and not monstrous.

In this, some of our loud and noisy opposition politicians are the most tragic of all. They are fouling their own nest. When they come to power, as many of them will, they will inherit a sick and weary nation, suspicious of all politicians, incapable of both sorrow and shame, stripped of every noble vision or ideal.

Is this what we all want? Then what will we have gained from our democracy, our freedom of expression, our exercise of our liberties -- and our smugness?

We in the media, glorying in our right and duty to speak out, must be humble enough, in turn, to accept our share of the blame. We are quick to criticize, but resentful when other sectors criticize us. I guess that's human nature. As Filipino newspapermen, journalists, and media persons, who were once suppressed and humiliated by the totalitarian gag and the shackles of martial law, we tend to be prickly of our restored freedom of speech.

What we all need, perhaps, is a massive dose of humility -- all of us, politicians, leaders, citizens, and chronic protesters. It's time to think in terms of being charitable towards one another -- not, I hasten to say, proclaiming "unity" at the cost of injustice or blindness to chicanery and abuse, but pursuing a joining of hearts in the rebuilding of our great nation.

The other day, I watched a replay of a terrific movie, a classic directed by John Ford which dates back to 1958 -- before many of those reading this piece were born. It was titled The Last Hurrah and starred the late Spencer Tracy in his most demanding role. He depicted a grizzled, old-fashioned, glad-handing, tough politician in New England (USA), a fictionized version of the Irish-American politician James Michael Curley, a four-time mayor of Boston and one of the maternal ancestors, if I'm not mistaken, of John F. Kennedy. In that role of "Mayor Frank Skeffington", Tracy (a two-time Academy Awards winner) portrayed a mayor campaigning for his 5th term, boisterous and street smart, but already a political dinosaur because he had failed to adjust to the modern ways of television and electronic hype, flashy media gimmickry -- and, in the end, was steamrolled by his foes among the snobbish bluebloods and the Big Money interests.

In a way, this is being paralleled today in the fight for the Republican Party nomination in the U.S. (where the contenders are already slugging it out, toe to toe, when the November elections in America are still about ten months away, by golly!)

The upper hand seems to be held by Texas Governor George W. Bush (he omits the Junior) whose smooth "machine" has already propelled him to the lead, or so it appears, fueled by a campaign war chest of an astounding US$70 million.

Although mere bystanders ourselves, who becomes the next President of the United States -- as everybody will concede -- is of interest to us. (On the Democratic Party side, it's perhaps Vice President Al Gore who'll be running, although former New Jersey Senator and former "jock" Bill Bradley is giving him a run for his money).

Other Republican contenders have been knocked away such as the very admirable Elizabeth Dole, former Red Cross president, cabinet member, and wife of Senator Bob Dole.

The only one giving Bush a fight is the underfunded Senator John McCain, a former US Navy aviator (a Captain), for five years a prisoner of war of the North Vietnamese who held his head high despite torture and heartbreak. McCain is an authentic hero in the old-style American mold. His method of campaigning, since he lacks money, is the sort of person-to-person pressing of the flesh, speaking at impromptu gatherings, as he rockets from state to state. It could be called the "Spencer Tracy" method. Charisma he's got in spades, his speeches brim with idealism and an appeal for a return to the old values. A survey, though, put women in favor of Bush by 17 percent, while men preferred McCain by 14 points. After all, John represents the manly virtues.

Bush has the support of the Republican Establishment, which means the majority of Republican congressmen and governors. He's got the machinery and the gloss. He's got his father's name. However, as the son of a former American President, George, Sr., and a brother of the Florida Governor, Jeb Bush, doesn't he symbolize the selfishness of a family dynasty?

McCain, then, is of the Mayor Curley stripe: principled, but not forgetful of the ways of street corner politicians. The trouble is that he has very few friends in his own Party. It was, after all, James Michael Curley, in real life, who said (as we learned while studying in Boston many years ago) that: "If a man has a thousand friends, he has none to spare. For if he has one enemy, he will meet him everywhere."

McCain would make a wonderful President. But he has too many enemies, and not a friend to spare.

I didn't get a chance to say goodbye -- thanks to my own stupidity and procrastination. When I learned that my friend, the fearless journalist and writer, Teodoro Locsin Sr. -- Teddy Boy's dad -- was in serious condition at the Makati Medical Center I was pushing a deadline, so I said: "I'll go and see him later." I'll never stop blaming myself. For "later" never came. Teddy Locsin Sr. died Friday at the age of 85.

That's what someone complained years ago, and I remember it well today: We never give "flowers to the living."

Teddy, who had been ailing the past few years, led a quiet life. Most of us thought he had been staying in retirement in the US.

He will always be remembered and revered as the fighting Editor and Publisher whose pungent prose made The Philippines Free Press, the powerful weekly magazine of record, so much feared by Presidents and cretins alike -- and some were, indeed, alike. He was among the first victims of Marcos martial law. We were picked up in the night, crammed into the gym at Camp Crame that September 21, 1972. The following day, along with Ninoy Aquino, eleven of us were "handpicked" to be transferred under heavy military guard to the maximum security prison of Fort Bonifacio. However, Voltaire Garcia Jr. was transferred to house arrest a week later because he was dying of leukemia.

In that concentration camp, Teddy was the cellmate of our Tatang, Manila Times Publisher Joaquin "Chino" Roces. We were all there in the two huts, Ninoy, my immediate cellmate, Senator Francisco "Soc" Rodrigo, TV's star commentator Jose Mari Velez of Channel 5, Senator Pepe Diokno, Vicente Rafael, Senator Ramon Mitra, Jr., and Free Press editor and writer (at that time), Napoleon Rama.

All of our prison "gang" are now gone. With Teddy's passing, only Nap Rama, the Publisher of the Manila Daily Bulletin, former Speaker Ramon "Monching" Mitra and this writer, are the only ones of our self-vaunted jailbirds "Top Ten" still alive. Monching Mitra has been announcing for months that he was going to die of cancer "any time now." But look at life's irony, it was Teddy Locsin who went first.

Only last Friday morning, Nap Rama and I were on the phone to each other, saying: "Let's go see Teddy in the hospital tomorrow, and invite Monching to join us, too, in our reunion."

Where are you, Monching? We've got to see you fast. Who knows who'll go first -- or next?

Let me say it in tears: Teddy was a great guy. He was, I think, so reticent a man that he was reluctant to show affection to his fellows in the profession -- but, in the end, in that prison camp, we all achieved a bonding of spirit that will outlive this temporal earth. God speed you, Teddy -- as a just reward for your courage -- to paradise!

See you there later, I'm tempted to promise. But one is never sure till the last moment in which direction the last journey will be headed.