Corazon Aquino
A Philippine widow harnessed the power of prayer and protest to overthrow tyranny
By Sheila Coronel
When the People Power revolt broke out in Manila in 1986, Corazon Aquino was in Cebu, 580 km to the south, to kick off a civil-disobedience campaign against the dictator Ferdinand Marcos. Her supporters, fearing for her life, urged her to flee the country or go into hiding. Instead she went to the convent of the Carmelites, a contemplative order of Catholic nuns, and spent the night praying with them. "I just felt so at peace," she recalls. "I felt that whatever happened, I'd be ready for it." Three days later, Aquino—the woman derided by Marcos as "a mere housewife"—was President. She was ill prepared to rule over a fractious nation ruined by 20 years of corruption and abuse. But, armed with the same prayerful fatalism she showed that night, she led her country as it underwent a rocky transition to democracy.
Aquino was the symbol of People Power and an inspiration to others around the world struggling against tyranny. The widow of popular opposition leader Benigno Aquino, who was murdered at Manila airport in 1983 on his return from exile in Boston, she showed a quiet courage that moved millions. To Filipinos, who are devoutly Catholic, she was both Mater Dolorosa and Joan of Arc.
When an icon becomes President, however, she loses her shine. Running against Marcos in an election prior to People Power, Aquino did not present a political platform. Instead, she would tell the story of her husband's homecoming and death. Filipinos saw their suffering mirrored in hers. "I am like you," she told them. "I am a victim of Marcos." Yet Aquino is not like most of us Filipinos. Born to privilege, she was the dutiful political wife, who stayed in the background while her husband, also from a wealthy family that had held public office for generations, was on the fast track. He believed that one day he would be President. That office would be hers instead.
Aquino's six-year presidency was marred by attempted military coups, human-rights abuses by a still-powerful army, and general incompetence. She is also blamed for resurrecting a political system dominated by élite clans, causing disappointed supporters to say that she could not transcend the interests of her class. But she will always be remembered for uniting Filipinos in their fight for freedom. Today, Aquino, 73, remains a political and moral force. "I don't know how [people] will judge my presidency," she says, "but I hope they will realize it was not easy restoring democracy after a dictatorship." For sure it was not. And we Filipinos will always be grateful that Corazon Aquino was there when we needed her most.
Sheila Coronel heads Columbia University's program for investigative journalism
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April 28, 2003 |
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October 11, 2004 |
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October 10, 2005 |
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