IT’S BEEN a year of living under a P-Noy presidency, and yesterday he was scheduled to deliver his second State of the Nation Address, in many ways the most important public speech of his presidency. While there was much anticipation of his first Sona, many knew it would be but a blueprint, a plan of action in which he would announce what he planned to accomplish in his six years as president and at least on the first year of his presidency.
But yesterday marked the end of his first year in office, and the second Sona was expected to be a report on his progress so far and to express concrete goals against a specific timeline and measurable achievements. In other words it should be an address that is at once realistic and specific, while “rallying the troops” as it were behind his vision and his plan of governance, inspiring and moving.
In this address, P-Noy has the chance to either dampen the national mood—throwing us into the doldrums should his list of accomplishments and promises prove less than stirring—or create euphoria at the prospects of an achievable brighter future. At the very least, it should tell us exactly if the Aquino administration is going somewhere, and where on that journey (preferably on a daang matuwid) we are now.
In the second Sona, we the people would already have formed an impression of P-Noy, gleaned from bits and pieces of his public appearances, public statements, his actions and his overall image. Experts in the economy, in politics, social movements and even image-building can pore through the data and draw up a matrix of promises made as contrasted with progress achieved. But the “meaning” of a presidency is not measured by matrices as much as by public mood and appreciation, by images and impressions, likability or instant revulsion.
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AS A person, P-Noy is likable enough. I like him for his ability and preference to address the public in flawless Filipino, grounding the meaning of his speeches to the daily life of every Pinoy, expressing even lofty ideas and concepts in terms the ordinary person on the street could easily grasp.
He comes across as easygoing, an image instantly achieved without hardly any effort by Erap, one which FVR worked hard to cultivate, and which GMA did not even seek to create with her lips usually drawn in a grim line and her stiff body language. But this relaxed and approachable exterior has also created the image of a slacker, and P-Noy has earned—mainly through repetition by his critics—a reputation for laziness, bringing his work ethic into question by reports of hours spent on video games or running after women he fancies.
He is, without doubt, a leader who works best in his “comfort zone,” defined mainly as being surrounded by people he has known for some time, people he trusts, people who share the same work style and perhaps the same leisurely pursuits (guns, cars and biking?). But when these same people grouped under the sobriquet KKK prove less than capable or outright underperforming, it is the appointing power who gets the flak. And the public reaction would be right: He is the one who chose them, after all.
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ONE year after P-Noy took office, how have we fared? I think one lesson we should take to heart is that reform takes longer and is much harder to accomplish than it seems. One year ago, we thought that merely winning an election and defeating candidates who had tried to influence the ballot by money, pedigree and influence was enough to change Philippine society overnight. We thought overcoming poverty was merely a matter of getting rid of the corrupt (who are more entrenched than previously thought) or of having a heart for the poor. We have learned, much to our dismay and disappointment, that change is a long-term project, and that it takes more than good will or a heart of gold to create the kind of change that overhauls social inequities or defeats the status quo.
In short, we have learned that P-Noy cannot do everything by himself. One year under a P-Noy presidency, we find ourselves being judged as well.
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THAT it happened in, of all places, Norway was hard enough to believe. That many of the dead were young people shot down by (as initially believed) a lone gunman on the small island of Utoya makes the story even more unbelievable.
For decades, the Nordic countries like Norway, Sweden, Finland, Denmark have earned a reputation for fairness and social equilibrium, as well as for being peace-loving. I remember a Swedish friend telling me, after a brief visit home, of watching TV and finding, after midnight, very graphic and explicit sex movies. “But,” he added laughing, “you will never see a gunfight or even a gun anywhere on Swedish TV.” Sex yes, violence no—that seemed to be the formula among the Scandinavian countries.
Well, that formula has been overturned by the events in Norway. Reports have it that Anders Behring Breivik, 32, had styled himself a right-wing “Knight Templar,” defending Christianity against Islam or the threat of Islamist terrorism. But those he killed were Norwegians like him, and most of them were young people who held enough of a stake in the future to get involved in politics.
Like people all over the world, I join in the chorus of shock, condemnation and sorrow for all those who died. As a Filipino, I feel an immense sense of loss, for the Norwegian government and people have long played a role as mediators in our own conflicts, currently hosting peace talks with the National Democratic Front. May peace return and reign once more in their land, and may they never lose their commitment to this ideal despite the events of Friday.