That the President has not named a defense secretary since Avelino “Nonong” Cruz Jr. quit in November last year is baffling. The department is one of the most crucial in the bureaucracy. Yes, she did serve in the same capacity once before—for about five weeks in 2003. But those were unusual times; defense chief Angelo Reyes had to quit after the failed Oakwood mutiny.

What could be delaying the President’s decision this time? Nothing much really, except that, besieged by intense jockeying for the post by various interest groups, she’s biding her time, making sure that her choice will not hurt those who will be bypassed by it.

In early December, the department got word that it would be Public Works Secretary Hermogenes Ebdane Jr. A few weeks later, a newspaper report leaked by a high-ranking government official pointed to Defense Undersecretary Ricardo Blancaflor as the likely one. By January, a third name had cropped up: National Security Adviser Norberto Gonzales Jr.

The names floated partly represent the factions now working for the President—people who have stuck it out with her since six years ago when she was first catapulted to the presidency.

A 1970 graduate of the Philippine Military Academy, Ebdane is closely associated with First Gentleman Jose Miguel “Mike” Arroyo, their relationship going back to months before EDSA 2, when Ebdane attended clandestine anti-Estrada meetings hosted by Mr. Arroyo.

Blancaflor is close to Executive Secretary Eduardo Ermita, having served as one of his deputies when Ermita replaced Reyes as defense secretary. Blancaflor helped Ermita run the controversial “monitoring center” at the department during the 2004 presidential elections.

Gonzales, on the other hand, is a power center by himself—largely because the President likes his fast, sometimes shortcut solutions to problems and because he is a friend of two individuals who have the ears of the President: her brother Diosdado “Buboy” Macapagal Jr., who is on a par with the First Gentleman in terms of access to and influence over the President, and Jesuit priest Romeo “Archie” Intengan.

To be sure, interest groups and factions with divergent agendas are not peculiar to the Arroyo presidency. All Philippine presidents have had to contend with them in a culture steeped in patronage and personalistic politics. Some succeeded in reining in these groups while others, like Joseph Estrada, let them loose to dictate on state affairs.

‘TO EACH HIS OWN’

But the latest boo-boos of the President and her Cabinet—from the foiled charter change campaign to the bungling of the Subic rape case to the messy dismissal of local executives—indicate that the power blocs around her are executing tasks without a coherent sense of the whole.

“To each his own,” was how three sources—an official at the Office of the President, an aide of a Cabinet secretary, and a former presidential adviser who continues to support her—describe them.

Anything related to the police and local governments, for example, is clearly the turf of Interior and Local Government Secretary Ronaldo Puno, another close associate of the First Gentleman. Appointments to crucial staff and command positions in the Philippine National Police (PNP) depend on Puno’s say-so. Yet, in Camp Crame, there’s the buzz about three “ex-officio” PNP chiefs who also meddle in national police affairs because they used to be PNP chiefs who now head civilian agencies: Ebdane, Transportation Secretary Leandro Mendoza, and National Irrigation Administration chief Arturo Lomibao—all linked to Mr. Arroyo.

Puno, like his colleagues in the Mike Arroyo group, are executioners; they do what they’re told—no questions asked, according to a Cabinet secretary who asked not to be named for fear of antagonizing them. After all, three of them are former cops used to following orders. It must be recalled that it was Lomibao, as PNP chief, who went to the office of the opposition Daily Tribune to act as its overlord during the short-lived state of emergency in February 2006. His apparently impulsive visit to the Tribune was never discussed at the level of the Cabinet or even sub-Cabinet for its likely impact. He went there, he told a colleague, because “order sa taas (from the higher-ups).”

It was Puno who made sure that convicted rapist US Marine Daniel Smith would be whisked out of the Makati City jail in the dead of night last December. Likewise, it is Puno, who, by law, implements suspension orders on local government executives emanating from Ombudsman Merceditas Gutierrez, who belongs to the Mike Arroyo group. She and Mr. Arroyo were classmates at the Ateneo. If problems arise as a result of his moves, that wouldn’t be Puno’s problem. His colleagues could take care of those. Or, the President could simply task anyone for the clearing operations, so to speak.

Sometimes, if the President wants things done, she would text five people to do the same thing for her, recalls a former politician who’s been with her for more than a decade. “She’s impatient, doesn’t pass through channels. She thinks that if she sends the message to five, one will deliver.”

And, those five don’t necessarily have to be in government. Concurs a Cabinet secretary: “That’s how decisions are made sometimes. You get an order from her and you assume that before this she had already called up the Speaker or Ermita or somebody else…wala nang meeting.” What this encourages, concedes a Cabinet aide, is “adhocracy.”

It is precisely under this management style where factions, interest groups, and non-accountable individuals thrive. Besides, the President has had to live with them from Day One—having been brought to power in 2001 by an odd coalition of power brokers, do-gooders, loyal cops and soldiers, political entrepreneurs, even communists.

CIVIL SOCIETY DOMINANCE

Her presidency, and the subsequent power blocs that dominated it, could be assessed on three periods: the first in 2001, following her abrupt rise to the presidency; the second in 2004, after her slim victory in a presidential race; and the third in 2005, after the “Hello, Garci” scandal that almost brought her down.

Presidential chief of staff Mike Defensor remembers those heady years after EDSA 2, when civil society, bulk of which campaigned for Joseph Estrada’s ouster, prevailed in the Arroyo Cabinet. “They were very strict, very demanding,” he tells NEWSBREAK, admitting that he encountered problems with them after he was named housing czar.

At that time, some had already begun divining the political demise of Lakas and Speaker Jose de Venecia Jr. Cabinet appointments went to those represented by civil society (like Victoria Garchitorena, who was then head of the Presidential Management Staff and Dinky Soliman, then social welfare secretary) and the group of Renato de Villa, who was the first executive secretary of the President. Even the leftist Bayan Muna got support from the administration when it first ran for the party-list election in the May 2001 polls.

One could sense then that the groups advising the President carried different perspectives and therefore brought to the table mixed views that enriched decision making. Even the 2004 presidential campaign was deftly parceled out to all the groups surrounding her, so that everyone felt they were “in.”

The official campaign structure accommodated all the so-called factions—civil society, political parties, retired police and military officers, the people who have been with her since she was vice president, etc.

The unofficial campaign structure pleased everybody, too. The President’s younger brother, Buboy Macapagal, was allowed to run his own team together with, among others, Gonzales and businessman and La Salle schoolmate Ruben Reyes; the First Gentleman had his own group with Puno and others; while top campaign fund-raisers Enrique “Endika” Aboitiz Jr., Enrique “Ricky” Razon, and Tomas “Tom” Alcantara dealt with both the official and unofficial campaign teams.

SECOND PAYBACK

In fact, it was only after the “Hello, Garci” scandal in July 2005 that some of the groups realized that there were others who worked on the campaign. Soliman had said they thought they were already part of the inner circle of the President. It turned out, she added, that others were even “inner.”

Because it was hard fought and, to her critics, rigged, the President’s victory bore an uncanny resemblance to her ascent to power in 2001. She couldn’t claim full credit for it. She was therefore in for another round of paybacks.

While the President often laments about the Philippines being two countries—one tied to a discredited political culture, the other to a modernizing nation—she is, ironically, the epitome of it. Half of her is the learned taskmaster who skillfully navigates the economic terrain; the other half is the consummate politician who plays with traditional tools to get her way.

So that in 2004, she pushed both halves into action, harnessing the technocrats in her Cabinet who put rigor into their work, as well as the political operators who did the trouble-shooting for her. Guess who have prevailed so far?

That year, the President held meetings every day with a core group in the Palace—Ermita, Ebdane (who was still PNP chief), Gonzales, then Presidential Management Staff chief Rigoberto Tiglao, presidential advisers Gabriel Claudio and Merceditas Gutierrez, and a couple of others not connected with government, according to a member of that group. They advised her on appointments and decisions on key issues.

THE BIG 3

Three big businessmen who donated huge sums to the President’s campaign soon became part of her “unofficial” Cabinet: Aboitiz, president of the Aboitiz Transport System, who belongs to a prominent clan in Cebu; Razon, CEO of the International Container Terminal Services, Inc. (ICSTI) and the Manila Standard, and Alcantara, former trade and industry undersecretary and head of the conglomerate Alcantara and Sons, which runs wood-processing and agriculture businesses in Mindanao.

The three exert vast influence on her to this day, according to everyone we interviewed for this story.

Razon, in fact, belonged to a shadow Cabinet of the President that regularly met outside the Palace after 2004 and which included Alcantara, Buboy Macapagal, Sen. Franklin Drilon, then presidential counsel Avelino “Nonong” Cruz, lawyer F. Arthur Villaraza, and former Bulacan Rep. and ex-Arroyo aide Willie Villarama. The group reportedly disbanded in late 2005, after the “Hello, Garci” scandal that saw Drilon leading a major breakaway of the President’s allies.

Razon brings together people for the President, says an aide of a Cabinet secretary. He supposedly played a key role in the smooth transition of the Senate presidency from Drilon to Sen. Manuel Villar, the source adds. He also lobbied with solons for the approval of the value-added-tax law.

He has enviable access to information emanating from the Palace; sometimes, he is the source of Palace news that comes out in the Manila Standard. (We asked Razon for his comments, but he declined). Just two days after the “Hello, Garci” tape was exposed, the President hosted a dinner for Polish Prime Minister Marek Belka in Malacañang and profusely thanked him for hosting Razon’s US$100-million container port in Gydnia (formerly Gdansk).

The name of Alcantara, on the other hand, has been floated for various positions, such as presidential chief of staff and ambassador to Washington. But the businessman prefers working in the shadows for the President.

Aboitiz’s name crops up every now and then in certain presidential appointments and government contracts.

There are other non-accountable individuals that the President calls upon on key policy issues. Among them is Intengan, a staunch anti-communist and co-founder (with Norberto Gonzales) of the Partido Demokratiko Sosyalista ng Pilipinas. Intengan admitted to NEWSBREAK editor in chief Marites Dañguilan Vitug that he provides inputs to the President on various issues—reconciliation and national unity, population, poverty—and on various sectors, such as the military and the police.

Why a priest would delve into matters such as security policy may seem odd, but the President seems comfortable with it.

THE RISE OF THE HAWKS

Year 2005—Garci, impeachment, the botched coup the following year, and charter change—altered the power configuration in the President’s inner circles. This power setup continues to this day, proof of its resilience and its compatibility with her temperament and wants.

“She really had a bonding with the groups that stayed with her after Garci,” says Defensor.

At least five key groups helped the President survive the Garci crisis. These are the groups represented by the First Gentleman; Buboy Macapagal; Speaker Jose de Venecia Jr., Executive Secretary Eduardo Ermita, and political parties; the shadow cabinet of Alcantara, Razon, and other non-government personalities in their circle; and local executives led by Ilocos Sur Gov. Chavit Singson and Manila Mayor Lito Atienza.

Defensor straddled these groups. Like a favorite child, he enjoyed direct access to the President and could say anything he wanted without fear of scolding—at least until late last year, when he started criticizing the people’s initiative campaign to change the charter.

July to December 2005 was the toughest time for the President. Nearly half her Cabinet left her, she felt under attack, and most of the power blocs surrounding her reinforced that siege mentality. “Each time somebody opposed her, she felt that person wanted to bring her down. She would defend a decision by saying, ‘but they’re attacking us,’” recalls a Cabinet official.

The First Gentleman had been forced into exile and the President’s other pillar, her brother, had turned overnight from a “dove to a hawk,” notes one of the private advisers of the President. Buboy Macapagal soon became the “shadow string-puller in the Palace,” as one senator puts it (see related story).

We have it on good authority that Macapagal and Gonzales tried to persuade the President to declare martial law during this period. This move culminated in a visit of Gonzales to Washington, D.C. to drop hints about it to Philippine Ambassador Albert del Rosario, who opposed the idea, according to a friend of Del Rosario’s. (Del Rosario was sacked in June 2006.)

There was a series of top-level meetings about extreme measures to save the President (i.e., media and Left clampdown, arrest of “corrupt” politicians), says an insider, but in the end the idea flopped largely because the security forces—the police and military leaderships—displayed enough body language that said they didn’t have the stomach for it.

Martial law further divided the shadow Cabinet. Drilon had by that time stopped attending the group meetings, but the extreme measures likewise didn’t sit well with Cruz and Villarama, among others.

Buboy Macapagal, too, had stopped attending the meetings, aware that some of his former allies now disagreed with him. The big three businessmen, however, remained influential with the President.

Executive Order 464, which banned Cabinet secretaries from appearing before Senate probes without Palace approval, also divided her official family. Presidential adviser Gabriel Claudio cautioned that this “was a declaration of war,” knowing this would create problems for the chief executive. Justice Secretary Raul Gonzalez and Gutierrez, who was then presidential legal counsel, saw nothing wrong with it, however.

‘SURVIVALCRAFT’

Then came the foiled military coup in February last year. The President declared a state of emergency and, when agitated Marine soldiers tried to barricade their headquarters on February 26, considered shutting down the Lopez-owned ANC cable TV station, which was covering the incident live.

It took a phone call to the President from “someone” in the Iglesia ni Cristo for the hotheads to cool off, says the same Cabinet official. The discovery and subsequent defeat of the coup toughened the view that by this time had begun to run through all the loyalist groups.

It went like this: she’s survived the worst because her opponents are weak and the public doesn’t care. This allows us room to push hard for changes and look even beyond 2010. “We had become very comfortable with power,” the Cabinet official concedes.

Decision-making has been tailor-fit for one overriding agenda: political survival. Retired National Security Adviser Jose T. Almonte calls it “survival-craft rather than statecraft (see related story on Cabinet appointments).”

The charter change campaign, for one, saw the ascendance of the De Venecia-Ermita-Lakas clique that sidelined even the one person who once brought them together and who went to the President’s rescue at the height of the Garci scandal: Fidel V. Ramos.

It likewise unraveled the support that the President enjoyed from the provinces, the kind that she rightfully deserves after several years of playing their game: not cutting into their tax share, supporting their projects, and speaking their language. Among the local executives closest to the President aside from Singson and Atienza are: Bohol Gov. Erico Aumentado, Iloilo City Mayor Jerry Treñas, and Binalonan Mayor Ramon Guico.

On the other hand, Ermita had metamorphosed from a low-key general and a low-key congressman into a formidable power center in Malacañang—his tentacles spread out over the bureaucracy: Congress, police, military, judiciary, etc. Among the codes he lives by, according to a longtime staff member, are: “Ang pikon talo…Be prepared for shifting alliances.” All appointments pass through him, nearly all presidential decisions are transmitted through his office, and he oversees the government’s strategic communication program. “He’s the first media-chasing executive secretary [after Oscar Orbos],” says the Cabinet aide quoted previously.

Ermita’s high profile makes him the most visible power bloc in the government today, though, according to an official in the Office of the President, this should not be mistaken as overtaking the influence of the President’s “two pillars”—Mike Arroyo and Buboy Macapagal, the two men who, while not endeared to each other, have come to believe that the family is constantly under attack and has to be protected, and preserved, by all means.

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