Tita Cory, democratic space, and a wedding

Tita Cory, democratic space, and a wedding
By Maurice Malanes
3 August 2009

Let me remember President Corazon Aquino through my own life.

The call of the 1970s and early 1980s had thrust me into activism. The country was under a dictatorship, which pushed many youths not only to activism but also to extreme options like going to the hills to take up arms. I didn’t choose such extreme option.

After finishing my undergraduate course, I became part of a church-based ecumenical institution, which sought to challenge church leaders and laypersons to live out their Christian faith in service to the least of their brethren. That was mid-1982.

I was not much of an activist while in college. I was more inclined towards spiritual pursuits. Books on Oriental philosophies and religions appealed more to me than Das Capital or Philippine Society and Revolution. So the Buddha’s middle way or the path of moderation became as appealing as Lord Jesus Christ’s admonition of loving God with all of your being, loving your neighbor as you love yourself and loving even one’s enemy. As a seeker, I also tried listening to the doctrines of various groups such as the Moonies, the Mormons, the Iglesia ni Kristo, and the following of a spiritual teacher who stressed on the spiritual path of bhakti or devotional service to God. I later appreciated how the path of bhakti reinforced the path of servant-leadership Lord Christ himself lived and showed.

These spiritual pursuits in a way helped prepare me when I became part of this church-based ecumenical institute. This institute sought to challenge church leaders and laypeople to transcend their God-and-me mindset and broaden this towards a God-me-and-society kind of faith. The country was under martial law so the challenge our educators at the institute often posed was: How can you live out your faith in the face of excesses, killings and other human rights abuses, oppression, hunger and poverty amidst abundance, plunder and corruption? The institute in a way helped mold activist priests, pastors, nuns and other church workers.

At that time talking about and defending human rights would put you in danger. Small wonder, the lives of church people who did advocate about human rights and social justice were at risk. Some had been summarily killed or had disappeared without a trace. (Unfortunately, these things still happen and remain among the tragic ironies of our time more than 20 years after the ouster of the Marcoses.)

In the course of my work with this ecumenical institute, I met my would-be life-time partner and friend. That was 1985 and the protest against strongman Ferdinand Marcos rule was mounting. The protest against the dictatorship began to rise after the assassination of former Senator Benigno “Ninoy” Aquino Jr. on 21 August 1983 at the Manila International Airport during his return following a three-year exile in the U.S. He was assassinated while being escorted by soldiers sent by Marcos.
Under Marcos, life was difficult for activists. Still, even under difficult times, love and courtship had a way of entering our lives. But at that time the future seemed uncertain so the thought of marriage and the desire of settling down and living normal lives seemed remote. Marriage and raising a family had to wait.

But unknown to me, a significant phase of history was unfolding. The heightening protest against 20 years of authoritarian rule, 14 years of them under martial law, forced Marcos to hold a snap presidential election in 1985. Reports say the election was also pushed by the US. Sen. Aquino’s widow, Corazon, after too much prodding from oppositionists and critics of Marcos, finally accepted to challenge Marcos in the elections.

The state-controlled election commission declared Marcos the winner in that election. But tallies of the independent election watchdog, Namfrel (National Movement for Free Elections) showed otherwise.

The questionable results of that snap election angered a nation yearning for freedom and democracy. Protest rallies swelled on the streets of Manila and other cities. Meantime, soldiers led by constabulary chief Gen. Fidel Ramos and then defense secretary Juan Ponce Enrile revolted against Marcos in February 1986.

Corazon Aquino and Manila Cardinal Jaime Sin called on Filipinos to mass on the streets of EDSA (Epifanio de los Santos Avenue) to support the Ramos-Enrile-led military revolt. The throngs of people did not only save the necks of the revolting soldiers, who, without "people power," could have been sitting ducks for Marcos’ soldiers. The “people power” peaceful revolution finally convinced Marcos that his time was up.

My girlfriend still takes pride in recalling that she was part of the throngs of Filipinos who trooped to EDSA to drive away a dictator. I was also in Baguio City, 250 kms north of Manila, participating in a counterpart “people power” vigil at the Baguio Cathedral. With the Marcoses ousted and exiled to Hawaii on 25 February 1986, Corazon Aquino was proclaimed president at Club Filipino in San Juan. Marcos’ so-called New Society era was over, and another era just began.

Under Tita Cory, anti-Marcos activists enjoyed a reprieve. Cory’s government provided some kind of a democratic space, which enabled a number of activists to rethink and re-plan their lives. For my part, that democratic space became an auspicious time to get married. So one fine morning on 7 June 1986, my fiancée and I were wed at the Church of the Risen Lord at the University of the Philippines-Diliman campus in Quezon City. The wedding was ecumenical. Jesuit priest Carlos Abesamis (now deceased) of Ateneo’s Loyola House and United Church of Christ in the Philippines’ bishops Juan Marigza, Ben Dominguez, and Erme Camba officiated our wedding.

After our wedding, I focused on journalism, which I failed to practice full-time under Marcos.

For Tita Cory, who left us 3:18 early morning of 1 August 2009 when all of us were sound asleep, I join the rest of the nation in saying, “Thank you very much.” Without the democratic space Tita Cory’s government provided, my wedding could have been postponed indefinitely or could have been scuttled outright. With that democratic space, I have since been practicing my journalism, writing for newspapers also borne out of people power.

My wife and I now have two sons, whom we are struggling to support until they can stand on their own toes. Through them, we continue to relay the story of our lives, which, like those of the rest of the nation, Tita Cory helped shape and influence in a positive, loving way.