They die

The contrast is stark.

Just the week before, Malacañang was toasting the life of someone who had been a gift to Philippine politics. Just a week ago, Malacañang was grieving the passing of someone who had shown it—alas, only after he had gone—a sense of where to go.

Someone who had given a face to “public servant,” a concept more honored in the breach than in the observance. Someone who had embodied the daang matuwid, proving that an honest politician was not a contradiction in terms. Someone who had shown the wisdom of the secular belief, “Walk quietly and carry a big stick,” or the Biblical proposition, “The humble shall be exalted and the exalted humbled.”

Just the week before, the country was on idealistic mode, heroic mode, larger-than-life mode, the tributes to Jesse Robredo pouring from people’s lips more copiously than rain in August. Just the week before, the country was on striving mode, aspiring mode, transcendent mode, finding ways to express Robert Browning’s thought that a man’s reach should exceed his grasp, or what’s heaven for.

Just three days after Robredo was cremated, Malacañang was defending his replacement by someone who has been a joke to Philippine politics. Just three days after he was buried, Malacañang was justifying the entrance of someone who has shown it—alas, every day in his ponderous intrusiveness—where not to go.

Someone who has given a face to public nuisance, honored in the resolute observance than in the occasional breach. Someone who believes the shortest distance to the presidency is a straight line, which is not the daang matuwid but the line of control of local governments. Someone who has shown the folly of the secular belief, “Talk noisily and carry a patpat,” and the not-very-Biblical “Hell hath no fury than a vice presidential bet scorned.”

Just three days after Robredo turned to ash, the country was back to “pragmatic” mode, antihero mode, smaller-than-life mode, the praises for the new appointee coming more scantily than drops of rain during El Niño. Just three days after vowing to preserve his legacy, the country was back on mediocre mode, pwidi-na-rin mode, look-out-for-Numero-Uno mode, reminding us that where other countries like to make love and war, we just like to make do.

The fall was so deep you could hear the thud from here to Basilan.

Arguably, Robredo is not an easy person to replace. Which is why the country went into epic mourning, discovering his virtues if a little belatedly. It’s not just because he was dead and we love to make the dead larger than life. Members of the Cabinet or Senate or House of Representatives or the Supreme Court could crash their planes singly or collectively and they would not provoke the kind of anguish Robredo did. In most cases, they would only spark the kind of dancing in the streets we had at Edsa.

Robredo combined several seemingly incongruous, or even contradictory, talents. At the very least, he was a local official who showed how local officials could be bigger, or more important, or more visionary than national ones. It’s a tribute to the Ramon Magsaysay Awards Foundation that it itself had the vision to see that, giving him an honor—the award for governance—traditionally reserved for national officials.

At the very most, he was a politician who showed how politics is not a bad word, it could always be used to empower the constituents and not just oneself. How good a politician he was he showed by never losing an election. He could have been the mayor of Naga City forever. How good he was at using politics to empower his constituents he showed by getting everyone—government, the NGOs, the Church, the media, the ordinary folk—to be on the same page with him. A thing they would reciprocate when they all helped to draw him back from the sea.

It’s not easy to replace him. But that is not a reason to replace him with the one person who contradicts what he was. With a national figure whose vision does not go beyond local turf, with a politician who sees politics only as the empowerment of self and party.

A week ago, several people texted me to say that they were impressed with Robredo’s wife, Leni. She had comported herself with calmness, dignity, and grace under (enormous) pressure it was a sight to behold. Surely, they said, someone like that could ensure that her husband’s legacy would be perpetuated. Surely, they said, I could do worse than propose it.

I was thinking of doing so when word came of Mar Roxas’ appointment. I don’t know that Leni would have been the best choice, but I know she would have done better. She of course had laughed off the suggestion and said she wasn’t interested. But that merely reminded me of why I proposed P-Noy for president after Cory died: He was the one least atat-na-atat to be in power. In a world where everyone was so, that was merit in the extreme.

Whatever the case, it shows the fallacy behind the “pragmatism” that got Roxas to replace Robredo. The reasoning is that P-Noy’s crusade for the daang matuwid, and Robredo’s legacy of good governance, are best rested in the hands of allies because they are allies, even though their actions show them to go against the spirit of those causes. That was the same fallacy that drove the United States to support tyrants to advance the cause of democracy. That was the same fallacy that made the Left ally with Manny Villar to advance the cause of revolution. That was the same fallacy that made the RAM turn from gunrunning to running for office under the leadership of Juan Ponce Enrile to fight corruption and repression. Democracy, revolution and reform are the last things they advance.

With “pragmatism” like this, with self-defeating choices like this, with shooting oneself in the head like this, crusades falter.

Dreams die.