Yahoo Finance COMMENT: Fidel Ramos – A Legacy of Caution and Courage
By Howard Chua-Eoan
Fidel Ramos, president of the Philippines from 1992 to 1998, died on Sunday after a life and career that saw triumphs over suspicion and self-restraint.
Ramos was the key man in the popular revolt that brought down his cousin, Ferdinand Marcos Sr., in 1986: The once-steadfast general who abandoned the dictator he had served for decades to take the side of rebels. He then became the successor to Corazon Aquino, the devout Catholic he helped bring to power, convincing her that a military man — and a Protestant — could extend the life of the country’s fragile democracy. He won election in the overwhelmingly Roman Catholic nation by the narrowest of margins, but went on to make it a credible case for the Philippines as a tiger economy in a rising Asia. He was the most democratic of generals and, along with Aquino’s son Benigno III, the most technocratic of presidents.
Ramos’s death removes from the Philippine political scene one of the great players of the election epic of 1986. Two major protagonists remain: Imelda Marcos, 93, the mother of the current president and widow of the man Ramos ousted; and Juan Ponce Enrile, 98, the defense minister who joined Ramos in revolt but who is now reconciled to the resurgent Marcos dynasty. While he lived, Ramos was a reminder of the courage — as well as calculation — required to undo the desperate situation the country faced almost four decades ago.
Filipinos have now fallen for the counterfactual sentiments of Marcos apologists. Ramos probably empathized with this nationalistic nostalgia for a non-existent era of strength. For years, Ramos stood by his second cousin as Marcos Sr. devolved from the great new democratic hope when elected in 1965 to a tyrant who dismissed all opposition with a withering hauteur. Ramos seemed to be immovable from Marcos’s side — to the consternation of the opposition who saw this most uncorrupt of regime loyalists as a possible force for reform and a return to democracy.
I remember the general’s balancing act. Our families attended the Cosmopolitan Church in Manila, a Protestant congregation established by American missionaries. There are so few Protestants in the Philippines that my classmates in a Jesuit school were alarmed when I confessed I was one: “You mean, you’re an atheist?”
Ramos would show up less and less at Cosmopolitan as the anti-Marcos outcry from the pulpit got louder and prominent opposition congregants started to exercise their political ambitions. Behind the scenes, however, he kept channels open — especially through my aunt Betty Go-Belmonte, a newspaper publisher who would become a great ally of Corazon Aquino. In the Philippine world of family connections, theirs would be pivotal. His parents had been the godparents at her wedding.
One of my late aunt’s favorite metaphors was biblical: the Red Sea did not part for Moses until his faith compelled him to take the first step into the waters. She had been in touch with her god-brother throughout the crisis of the vote-count in 1986, when Marcos suspended the process after it was clear he could not win. When Enrile turned against Marcos, Ramos joined him.
In the hours after that decision, a group of Catholic seminarians paraded a statue of Our Lady of Fatima among the citizens of Manila who had surrounded the military base where Ramos and Enrile were holed up, a human wall protecting them from a counterattack by regime loyalists. The Protestant general allowed the Catholic procession to take place. It helped bring down the dividing lines between between Filipinos and created a united front against Marcos.
The success of the People Power revolt may have given the reluctant rebel confidence to act with a fresh forwardness. Some of it paid off for Ramos: running for the presidency, for example, in 1992 and confidently taking his place as a member of the very male-dominated global power brokers. After his term in office, he also helped pass a landmark reproductive rights law, against deep opposition from hierarchy of the Roman Catholic Church. He did come to regret a few things: support for Rodrigo Duterte, whom he served briefly in 2016 before quitting the controversial president’s administration.
The united front against Marcos and his legacy has long collapsed. It is tragic that Ramos lived to see it happen. He was, nonetheless, that rare combination in Philippine history: general, technocrat, democrat. And he imparts at least one great lesson for his country: Caution can give way to courage — and courage can part the waters.
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