5. MURDER AND MAYHEM

	JUANITO Remulla built his reputation as Cavite strongman by plotting the killing of the notorious bandit Nardong Putik in 1971. [photo by Alex Baluyut/PCIJ]

Before last December's slay of Abra Rep. Luis Bersamin Jr., there was the killing of Ilocos Sur Rep. Julio Nalundasan, who was murdered in his home, after dinner on the evening of September 20, 1935, as he was about to brush his teeth. The alleged assassin was the 18-year-old Ferdinand Marcos, then a University of the Philippines student, whose father Mariano had just lost to Nalundasan in the elections for the Commonwealth-era National Assembly. Mariano's was a devastating defeat, made even more humiliating by Nalundasan's decision to hold a victory parade that featured a coffin bearing his rival's name.

Those were the days when political violence was rare, and the murder tainted the credibility of the freshly minted Commonwealth government. Marcos was tried and he lost his case in the trial and appeals courts. On final appeal at the Supreme Court, however, the young law student argued his case brilliantly. He was acquitted, not so much on the basis of the evidence but because Jose Laurel, the Supreme Court justice who penned the decision on his case, did not want such talent to go to waste. Marcos's acquittal was as celebrated as the murder for which he was charged. Fourteen years after the assassination, he was elected congressman of Ilocos Norte, riding partly on the fame the murder case had brought him.

The importance of political violence in dynasty building is exemplified by the saga of the Singsons of Ilocos Sur, which shows how an upstart family can wrest control of a political and economic bailiwick through violence. In 1970, Luis 'Chavit' Singson allegedly killed his uncle, strongman Floro Crisologo, to become, up to now, the undisputed boss of Ilocos Sur.

In Cavite, the only way Juanito Remulla could exercise political hegemony over banditry and assorted criminality was by keeping a private army. Remulla began his political career under the tutelage of Senator Justiniano Montano, the Cavite strongman whose 35-year rule was marked by violence and the coddling of smuggling and other syndicates that proliferated in the province. In 1969, Remulla parted ways with Montano, and two years later, when he was a Constitutional Convention delegate, he made his mark in the gangster-style execution of the notorious bandit Leonardo Manecio, known as Nardong Putik.

"At that time, there were two governments in Cavite, one run by the Montanos, the other by Nardong Putik," Remulla said in a 1994 interview. "Everyone paid taxes to Nardo, even Coca-Cola delivery trucks. So we decided to get Nardong Putik, but we could not do it ourselves. I did not want it to look like my men were involved. So I agreed with the National Bureau of Investigation chief to send some men over to be our cover."

One early morning in 1971, Remulla sent a vanload of his men to wait in ambush on Nardong Putik, who, they were told, was leaving the home of a girlfriend in Kawit town. The van cut into the path of Nardo's red Impala, and Remulla's men sprayed the gangster with bullets. Remulla remained at home, directing operations through a two-way radio.

The killing made Remulla a power to reckon with in Cavite. Elected to the provincial board in 1972, he became vice governor the same year, after the governor was suspended. When the new governor, Dominador Camerino, died suddenly in 1979, Remulla took over the post, which he kept until 1986. During that period, he laid the ground for the industrialization of Cavite, a process that was marred by killings, threats, and intimidation of workers and farmers by the governor and his men. He was reelected in 1988, and again in 1992 and 1995. His political machine was so formidable it ensured that his allies monopolized Cavite's seats in Congress in the post-Marcos period. In 2001, Remulla's son, erstwhile television reporter Gilbert, then only 31, became congressman. Gilbert was reelected in 2004, and sat in the Lower House with older brother Jesus Crispin, who was elected as representative of Cavite's 3rd district. In Cavite itself, another Remulla son — his junior, Juanito Victor, or 'Jonvic' — was elected vice governor.

Violence is rooted in the political and economic geography of a political territory. Some clans had to resort to violence to assert and maintain their control. In other places, though, violence was not a requisite for political domination.

6. MYTH

Again, Ferdinand Marcos comes to mind, if only because he was so adept at the tactics of establishing political hegemony. Marcos built his career by projecting himself as a World War II hero who formed Maharlika, a 9,200-strong band of anti-Japanese guerrillas that staged daring raids and sabotage operations in northern Luzon. The young Ferdinand was supposedly such a daredevil operator that he got 32 medals for his valiant efforts during the war. In 1947, as war hero, he was appointed to the Philippine Veterans Commission to lobby in the U.S. for better benefits for war veterans. In 1949, he ran for Congress in Ilocos Sur, again projecting his wartime heroism to heighten his electoral appeal. The emptiness of all his claims was exposed only in the 1980s: The war medals were fake and Maharlika never really existed.

	UNLIKE other presidents, Manuel Roxas did not leave to his heirs the legacy of an enduring myth. [photo courtesy of the Lopez Museum]

Marcos, therefore, shows both the heights — and the limits — of mythmaking. A potent myth can sustain a political family for several generations, but only as long as the family attempts to live up to some part of that myth. Up to the last, even when he was very weak from lupus and undergoing dialysis, Marcos tried to project the myth of potency and invincibility, of the big, powerful man who would lead his country to greatness. The myth ended with his fall, but endures in many parts of the Ilocos region. In Ilocos Norte, the Marcos name is revered, and a Marcos has never lost an election there even after 1986. For all her showbiz flair, Imee Marcos would not have been elected representative of Ilocos Norte in 1998 and 2001 if she were not her father's daughter.

In contrast, Diosdado Macapagal propagated the myth not of wartime heroism but of his humble origins. He cast himself as the "poor boy from Lubao" when he ran for Congress and the presidency. As his commissioned biography, released during the 1965 campaign against Marcos said, Macapagal's "is the story of a little man, born in a hovel, who has battled with the biggest vested interests in the Philippines in his drive to bring honesty and integrity to government."

Unlike Macapagal, who was of peasant stock, Ramon Magsaysay was middle class. Yet he, too, projected himself as the champion of the poor. Even the most ardent communists of that time were convinced of his genuine concern for landless peasants, but Magsaysay also cleverly used the media to project himself and his programs, thereby restoring the faith of the disadvantaged in government. Today his presidency is remembered as a golden age, and both myth and memory have served his family well. Since the 1960s, various Magsaysays were elected to Congress largely because of the myth of Ramon Magsaysay.

Also enduring is the myth of "Erap para sa mahirap," which was largely responsible for making Estrada president. Although his lifestyle was one of bacchanalian excess, Estrada's movies had projected him as a man of the masses, and voters initially remained clueless about the dissonance between his private life and his public image. But even after his excesses had been exposed, the Estrada myth remained compelling to many poor Filipinos. His wife and sons are woefully charisma-challenged and they had not been publicly projected as protectors of the poor, but they have won elections because they are seen as Estrada's political surrogates.

In comparison, Manuel Roxas, who was the first postwar president, left no such enduring myth. While the Roxas family remains strong in their native Capiz, they are bereft of a narrative that voters throughout the country could relate with. This is the reason why, in preparation for the 2004 senatorial race, President Roxas's grandson, Manuel II, resorted to television commercials portraying him as "Mr. Palengke," the man who ensures honest trading in public markets.

Many political families thrive on myths of potency and generosity (even if they use mostly government resources, rather than their own, for patronage). In Samar, representatives throw wads of cash during town dances, a very public display of their benevolence. Elsewhere, they give big donations to town fiestas, basketball tournaments, and the like. One reason why pork barrel funds are important to legislators is they help propagate the myth of munificence.

The selective use of violence, too, can be said to be part of mythmaking. The killings instill fear, obedience, and respect. They project a patriarch's or a family's power. The message they send is: This clan has muscle and those who trifle with them do so at their own peril.

The media, of course, are an important arena for the manufacture and dissemination of myth.

Increasingly, voters make their choices based on the images they see on television. This is where news anchors have the edge. On television, they look intelligent, credible, and authoritative, even when they are merely reading from a text written by others. It is the projection that is important, and it is for this reason that Loren Legarda and Noli de Castro topped the senatorial races in 1998 and 2001, respectively.

Manuel Villar made the leap from the House to the Senate in part because of his positive media projection during Estrada's impeachment in 2000. It was Villar as House Speaker who hurriedly announced that the President had been impeached and then banged the gavel to close the session and forestall any opposition. It was a singular TV moment, replayed over and over again by the major networks. It also projected Villar (up till then his campaign pitch was "sipag at tiyaga" or hard work and patience, a tagline that he is now recycling) as a principled legislator worthy of a Senate seat.