In the Roman calendar, the Ides of March is imbued with a sense of foreboding. That was the day Julius Caesar was assassinated by a group of senators who called themselves the "Liberatores." They justified their actions not as murder but as "tyrannicide' because they were trying to preserve the Republic from Caesar's alleged monarchial ambitions.
In this town, the middle of the month definitely evoked a dark mood reminiscent of doom and danger. Like the martial law days. Then, plainclothesmen with clutch bags and menacing looks took notes and pictures of activists considered enemies of the state.
They were tagged as “Filipino
communists.” The dictator’s thugs simply put out a chilling whisper, that
they’re around watching your every move, and any association with these
radicals would be dealt with accordingly. Just one word was enough to instill a
sense of fear: Beware. Not an idle threat, mind you. If you happened to be back
home and labeled Red, or even remotely a sympathizer, you could end up
“disappeared” or dead.
Now, more than 20 years after People
Power threw out the tyrant, things haven’t gotten better apparently. In fact,
it may have actually gotten worse. Marcos is gone but the culture of impunity
continues. So far, human rights advocates have documented more than 800
killings – all committed during the reign of President Gloria Macapagal Arroyo,
surpassing even those crimes and abuses under Marcos. Not random murders. The
victims were journalists, church workers, labor organizers, civil rights
activists. And the perpetrators, credible investigators have found, are linked
to Philippine government security and intelligence forces.
In this town around the middle of March,
the Capitol Hill’s Dirksen building evoked the same dark moods. Not unlike
Pompey’s theater hundreds of years ago, the senate chamber the day before the
ides of March reeked of danger. The cast embodied in statements submitted for
the record included names of assassins, conspirators and counter-insurgency
agents. Although the circumstances weren’t quite the same, the word “Beware”
evoked the same old perils.
A ROSY PICTURE? The day before the ides of March, Sen.
Barbara Boxer convened the Senate Subcommittee on East Asian and Pacific
Affairs for a hearing on human rights abuses in the Philippines. She was fully
aware of the danger posed to the witnesses who had come from the Philippines to
tell their stories. That’s why the senator turned down the request of GMA’s
generals to also testify. She assured the jampacked hearing room that only
diplomats from the Philippine Embassy were allowed inside.
First to make their statements were
bureaucrats from the U.S. state department. Boxer chastised them for painting
“too rosy” a picture in describing the steps being taken by the Arroyo
administration to stop the violence. The senator also suggested that further US
aid to the Philippines may be contingent on improved human rights performance.
She was particularly concerned about US
money being used to train the very people who are doing the killing. “I
represent one million Filipinos in my state” who are outraged by the situation,
she said.
The next panel, which included a
Philippine bishop and a human rights activist, submitted a report called “Let
the Stones Cry Out.” Documenting more than 800 people killed since 2001, it’s a
scathing denunciation of GMA’s leadership. Its findings are confirmed by
authoritative organizations, including Public Services International, a global
union federation of public sector trade unions. Gloria Caoile was a member of
the PSI investigating team that looked into the murders of more than 80 labor
organizers. “The situation is alarming,” she says.
A DEATH SENTENCE. Three days earlier at the National
Christian Church, I participated in an International Ecumenical Conference on
Human Rights in the Philippines. The presentations from members of the
Philippine delegation were compelling. Among them was Amirah Ali Lidasan of the
Muslim-Christian People’s Alliance. She recalled what one US embassy official
said right after September 11, that Mindanao will be the next Afghanistan.
“Since then, the bombs haven’t stopped dropping in Sulu and Taguig,” she said.
“As muslims, our own religion has become our own death sentence.”
On the last day of the conference – the
morning of the senate hearing – the conference delegates (mostly church leaders
from various religious denominations) marched to the Philippine Embassy to hold
a prayer vigil. They carried framed pictures of some of the victims and took
turns reading aloud their names. A group of church leaders entered the embassy
and requested a meeting with the ambassador. They waited for about ten minutes,
only to be told that he wasn’t in and that his deputy was too busy to come
down.
Meanwhile, two uniformed officers from
the White House security detail watched from a distance while Enrico Fos, a
political officer, met with the group outside the embassy gates. His statement
about the “alleged” killings was immediately challenged by the protesters.
Speaking for them, Rev. Larry Emery of the Presbyterian Church made three
demands: a) fly the Philippine flag at half mast to mourn the life of the 800
victims, b) assure the personal safety of the 10-person Philippine delegation,
c) adhere to international law and prosecute the killers. Fos, understandably
not in a position to affirm, politely offered to convey them to Manila.
A
week later, the Embassy tried again to explain the government’s position by
holding a “Pulong Bayan,” with PNP General Avelino Razon. Only a handful from
the community came.
Meanwhile, the nation stops to
commemorate the fourth anniversary of the US war in Iraq. Interestingly, during
the senate hearings, it was noted that when President Bush declared the “War on
Terror,” he listed Afghanistan and the Philippines as the two fronts in “a
lengthy campaign.”
Which brings me back to Amira Ali Lidasan, the Muslim sister from
Mindanao. She told the story of 11-year-old Muni whose father and grandfather
were killed by US-RP Balikatan forces. The girl saw four US Tomahawk
helicopters drop bombs in her village in Sulu, killing many of her playmates.
It rained with bombs for six days, she said. Today, with their schools turned
into military encampments, the children have to decide what to do with their
young lives. Each day is lived with a sense of foreboding and impending doom.
Here, at a safe distance, we mark with
foreboding the ides of March as a time to remember our history of resistance,
with a firm resolve to let the stones cry out for justice.
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