A system that does not work

When a cousin of Imelda, Loreto Romualdez Ramos died, I met her at the funeral. The cousin was one of my principal witnesses to the Untold Story of Imelda Marcos.

At about the same time my daughter had submitted to al-Jazeera a subject for a documentary. It did not yet have a title, only a theme in her mind about the culture of impunity in the Philippines. She would tell the story from a personal vantage point.

She e-mailed to me an essay entitled “Has Imelda Marcos created some kind of alternate reality in which she is the victim?” I was more interested in the personal side of the story: how our exile affected her. As parents we make decisions not thinking of what it does to our children. It is only today, more than three decades later, that she was able to express her feelings.

“Imelda Marcos has always cast a dark shadow over my life, so making this film was a unique chance to confront her with her crimes.

“There have been many times when I thought I hated her. I was furious at the obscene wealth her family amassed and disgusted by the litany of carefully documented cases of torture and disappearances that were delivered to us in exile in London and which formed a staple part of my diet of reading materials when I was a teenager.”

For the first time, poignant feelings welled up:

“I grieved too at what I never had: a life surrounded by extended family that is so much a part of Philippine culture, the culture itself and the native language that my mother dreams in but which I speak badly and with a distinctly London accent and syntax. Imelda and her coterie robbed me of part of my identity that most people take for granted – a sense of belonging.”

But she learned to accept that loss and fit it in her adult life and career.

“In some ways of course Imelda’s attempts to intimidate our family turned out for the best. I probably would not be in the position of being able to write this story and make this film if she had not booted us into exile. It is a rather delicious irony that her attempts to shut us up only motivated us to speak louder and take action on the international stage.” How we came to be exiled is a bit more complicated than that. It is a story that still needs to be told.

“You can watch the film to see how the interview went but what became clear is that Imelda is living in a world that does not exist. She has an idea about what she wants to stand for and she calls it ‘love’ but is in total denial about the facts. So no matter how many times she speaks of love, her legacy is far too tainted with cruelty, lies and corruption for her to be love. Because that is what she says she wants engraved on the headstone of her grave, ‘Here Lies Love’.

It was a terribly frustrating experience to interview Imelda because she is so deluded. Despite everything, when I considered her in person it was difficult not to feel quite sorry for her. I was angry too, but it was very clear that her greed and ambitions have failed to make her happy. She seems doomed to strive like Sisyphus pushing and pushing but never getting whatever it is she really wants and so she has created some kind of alternate reality in which she is the victim.

It is as if she has completely forgotten her time in power.

At one point when we were discussing the allegations that the Marcoses stole from the national coffers, I asked her if she had considered the possibility that, even if she believes in her heart what she says… that it might not be true. She looked completely baffled. I think her lies have become her truth.

Then again Imelda’s denial of any wrongdoing serves her children’s political ambitions very well. Her son was elected senator and under the Philippine Constitution he is elected on a national basis — a kind of mini-president. There is a lot of speculation that Ferdinand Jr. (known as Bong Bong) will run for the presidency in 2016. It is a real possibility that the Philippines will have another Marcos in the Malacanang Palace.”

Veronica weaves her story around the essential tragedy of the Philippines.

“Imelda and Me is not just about the former first lady and the culture of impunity that has allowed those guilty of the worst crimes during Marcos’ martial law regime to go unpunished. It is also about the continuing inability of the justice system and other democratic institutions to sanction the abuse of power. There is a direct link.

In November 2009, on a hillside overlooking a valley in the southern Philippines, 58 people were killed — 32 of them were journalists. It is the Philippines’ worst political killing in recent history and the world’s worst ever killing of journalists. It was a cold-blooded ambush, carefully planned and executed by the most powerful political clan in the most deprived area of the Philippines…Despite the security more than 100 suspects in the killings are still at large. Reportedly some have been seen playing basketball at military camps.”

She met the relatives of the victims who are afraid that they could be killed by the Ampatuan clan too because they are demanding justice. “Several wept as we spoke to them, still unable to come to terms with their loss and struggling financially.”

To them it appears that the murderers will get away with it because everyone agrees that it will take at least 10 years before verdicts are delivered, Veronica adds.

She then links the past with the present. “Their outrage is the same as the victims of abuse during the martial law era in the 1970s. Still burning with indignation after all these years, film director Joel Lamangan told me about the four years of imprisonment and torture he endured because he was an activist in those days. No-one responsible, he says, has ever been brought to account.”

“Imelda and Me is not just about my story but the stories of millions of others whose hopes for a just society are doomed because of a system that does not work.”

It can be viewed in You Tube.