THE AFTERMATH OF THE AUG.21, 1983 ASSASSINATION OF NINOY AQUINO

By Philip M. Lustre Jr. 

Dictator Ferdinand Marcos hardly anticipated the costly and prolonged public outrage over the Aug. 21, 1983 assassination of top opposition leader Benigno Aquino Jr. 

Despite his reputed erudite and wily political ways, Marcos could not stop the escalation of the Aquino’s brutal murder into crisis proportions, threatening his dictatorship for the first time in a decade.

Ensconced in Malacanang after his kidney transplant surgery, Marcos watched helplessly as the Filipino people responded swiftly, overwhelmingly, and decisively on the brazen way Ninoy Aquino was killed while he was with his military escorts at the airport tarmac.

Despite the dictatorship’s tight control over the local media, news about Aquino’s murder spread like wildfire, triggering what could be regarded the start of the downfall of the Marcos dictatorial regime. 

It pricked the national conscience, so to speak, as ordinary citizens could not contain their utter shock, disbelief, and disgust over his murder, which was committed in broad daylight. 

For them, Marcos had to explain a lot since the opposition leader was killed while in military custody. Moreover, the circumstances of his brutal murder showed a direct military conspiracy.

Hours after his murder, Filipinos from all walks of life – rich and poor, young, old, and the not-so-old - formed long queues to pay their last respect to Aquino, whose body was put for public viewing at the Aquinos’ residence on Times Street in Quezon City. 

The Aquinos neither changed the clothes he wore upon arrival in Manila nor cleaned his wound and dirtied face, enabling the world to see what they did to Ninoy. Only when he was about to be buried ten days later did they dress him up and clean his face.

Two days after his murder, wife Cory Aquino and their kids arrived from Boston and decided to transfer his remains to a bigger and spacious venue to accommodate the increasing number of people, who paid daily homage to him – the iconic Santo Domingo Church along Quezon Avenue in Quezon City, which is about two kilometers away from their residence. 

The crowd got bigger and the lines, longer, as more Filipinos started to perceive Ninoy Aquino as a martyr of Philippine democracy.

Despite the public anger and polarizing effects of the brutal murder, known supporters of the dictatorship attempted to go to the wake to show some degree of sympathy and condole with the family. 

But because of the tense situation, some visitors were shunned. Their rebuff revealed the deep political wounds his murder had caused. 

Gen. Carlos P. Romulo, the former foreign affairs minister of the Marcos dictatorship was among them. Burial marshals politely told him to leave, hurting his pride. 

Later, that was when he was about to die in 1985, Romulo showed a change of heart by quietly denouncing the dictatorship, claiming that Marcos used his “international stature” to get what he wanted from the Americans.

Ten days later, or on August 31, 1983, the longest funeral procession in Philippine history took place. An estimated two million people participated to bring Ninoy’s remains to the Manila Memorial Park in suburban Paranaque City. 

Almost overnight, an alphabet soup of organizations mushroomed to lead the protest demonstrations against the perceived complicity of the Marcos regime in Aquino’s murder.

Younger brother Agapito, or Butz, led in the creation of the August Twenty One Movement (ATOM), to press for the prosecution of the people behind Ninoy’s murder and signal the rise of the middle class and professionals in the protest movement against the Marcos authoritarian rule. 

The Justice for Aquino, Justice for All (JAJA), became the broad coalition of opposition forces against the Marcos dictatorship

The Aug. 21, 1983 assassination of Ninoy Aquino drastically altered the political equation. It galvanized the political resolve of the democratic opposition, as they went to the extent of pressing for the resignation of Marcos, whom the opposition leaders thought had blood in his hands. 

They demanded an end for one-man rule and a transition to democracy. It served as the single spark to enhance communist insurgency in the country, as rebels recruited more adherents, staged more ambushes against government troopers, and intensified armed struggle.

The assassination also provided the impetus for the middle class to join the protest movement against Marcos dictatorial rule. Business executives and their staff went out of their offices to join protest demonstrations. 

The usually placid business district of Makati, or the Ayala district, became the hotbed of activism and protest demonstrations against Marcos. It weakened the ruling Kilusang Bagong Lipunan coalition, as its members began to doubt Marcos. 

Overall, Marcos never had it so bad until the Ninoy Aquino murder took place.

Even the U.S. State Department and the U.S. Embassy in Manila, as represented by intrepid Ambassador Michael Armacost, were so surprised by the public outrage, prompting them to start distancing from Marcos. 

Seeing the magnitude and depth of the collective public anger over Aquino’s murder, Armacost avoided getting cozy and warm again with the dictatorship, as he treated them at arm's length and with ultimate formality. 

Where before Armacost was photographed dancing with Imelda, the ambassador avoided her except on formal occasions. It was a sharp contrast to the friendship which the Marcoses enjoyed with U.S. President Ronald Reagan and wife Nancy.

Marcos’s response for the crisis was fatally short of any brinkmanship. He failed to convince the people that Rolando Galman was indeed a communist hit man responsible for Ninoy’s death. 

The dictator formed a commission led by his loyal supporter in the Supreme Court, Chief Justice Enrique Fernando, to conduct an independent probe of Aquino’s murder, but the people repudiated the commission, raising the public perception that they were appointed to rig the investigation.

Marcos replaced the Enrique Fernando commission with a five man commission led by retired appellate justice Corazon Agrava. The other commission members were Amado Dizon, Dante Santos, Luciano Salazar, and Ernesto Herrera, who rose to national prominence to become a senator. 

The commission held daily hearings for almost a year and confirmed the public view that his murder was indeed a military conspiracy that involved Gen. Fabian Ver, the Armed Forces chief of staff and an infamous Marcos lackey.

The protest demonstrations continued. Perfumed elites from Makati and corporate executives like Jaime Ongpin and Ramon del Rosario Jr. joined hands with the great unwashed to press for Marcos resignation and a transition to democracy. 

Marcos was forced to call elections for members of the regular Batasang Pambansa, where the political opposition won a quarter of the seats in 1984. In late 1985, Marcos called for “snap” presidential elections, which culminated in the EDSA People Power Revolution.

The ultimate question: Who gave the order for Ninoy Aquino’s assassination?

The late Cory Aquino had put the blame squarely on dictator Ferdinand Marcos, but in the absence of direct evidence and corroborative statements, it was difficult for her to pin down Marcos as the one who gave the order for her husband's assassination. 

But pieces of circumstantial evidence showed that it was Marcos, who personally gave the order to Imelda and close confidantes to kill Ninoy if he insisted to come home at the date he was convalescing from his kidney transplant surgery.

In the dictator’s mind during those days, he was only implementing in an extrajudicial manner the death sentence a military commission gave in 1974 on trumped up charges of murder and subversion against him. 

In contrast, Ninoy Aquino felt he had to be here to present opposition alternatives for Marcos.

Imelda’s warning against Ninoy that he would be dead if he were to come home indicated that the Marcoses had plans to liquidate him. 

What took place on Aug. 21, 1983 was premeditated murder as shown by the clock-like precision of the operations. 

It was inconceivable that Marcos did not know it. He not only knew it; he personally gave the order. Hence, his order had emboldened the likes of Avsecom chief Brig. Gen. Luther Custodio, a notorious Imelda loyalist, to kill Ninoy. 

Their cocky confidence was noticeable.

To whom did Marcos give the order to kill Ninoy?

Imelda knew and implemented it along with Ver and, of course, his younger brother, Cocoy Romualdez.

It is a cause for bewilderment that Cocoy did not bother to return to the country for many years, while others took the gamble to return. He returned only when he was ill with cancer only to die in early 2012. 

Nobody could say with certainty his participation, but it has been whispered that he was among those entrusted to carry out that plan to kill Ninoy.

ALL YOU WANT TO KNOW ABOUT THOROUGHBRED HORSERACING IN THE PHILIPPINES

By Philip M. Lustre Jr.

(Author's Notes: I wrote the following three years ago as background material for a feasibility study on a horseracing project. I have decided to post it to provide readers with some ideas on the local horseracing industry. Excerpts:) 

Overview

Horseracing, as an equestrian game, has global status because of its presence in many countries, particularly in North America, Europe and Asia. Most countries allow public betting. It is a wholesome but profitable mode of public recreation and diversion. 

Over the centuries, horseracing has cultivated rich traditions due mainly to the challenge of crossbreeding to produce champion horses for various surfaces and competitive races that have resulted in numerous surprises.

In the Philippines, thoroughbred horseracing has taken a solid foothold, as it has become a principal mode of recreation and relaxation for tens of thousands of stressed Filipinos. The following represents an overview of thoroughbred horseracing in the country.

A.     It is an industry

Thoroughbred horseracing is not just a sports but a multibillion peso industry that involves billions of pesos in investments and infrastructures, includes hundreds of entrepreneurs, employs thousands of trainers, jockeys, and support personnel, and entertains millions of racing aficionados. 

It provides livelihood for about 5,000 persons, who are directly employed by the racing clubs, stables, breeding farms, among others, and tens of thousands of others, who depend or are indirectly connected to the horseracing business.

B.     Horseracing has rich traditions

Horseracing has rich traditions since 1867, when the Manila Jockey Club was founded and held the first horse racing in the country. By the turn of the century, the Manila Jockey Club had its racetrack at the old familiar site of San Lazaro in the Sta. Cruz district. Traditions flourished when US Governor-General William Howard Taft allowed public betting and opened the racetrack for people from all social strata. 

By 1937, the country had two racing clubs with the entry of the Philippine Racing Club, Inc. Since then, the two clubs alternated in holding races every week, until the third racing club has joined in 2013.

C.     Horseracing is part of Philippine culture

Horseracing has evolved to become part of Philippine culture. The horseracing traditions have cultivated a subculture among the people directly involved in the sports and the racing aficionados. 

Horseracing has its own language, value system, and social influence. Outstanding jockeys like Elias Ordiales, Jesus Guce, and Eduardo Domingo Jr. are regarded as sports icons.

D.     Horseracing is a regulated sport

The Philippine Racing Commission, or Philracom, is the state agency that has regulatory powers over the conduct of horseracing in the country. Philracom, a collegial body, ensures the integrity of all races. 

It issues license to a racing club to hold horseracing. It empowers the five-man Board of Stewards to exercise control and supervision over all races. It issues licenses to horse trainers, jockeys, grooms, and helpers. 

Philracom mandates the racing clubs to hire support personnel to include veterinary doctors to look after the fitness of every participating racehorse, doctors to look into the jockeys’ physical fitness, clockers, handicappers, starting gate personnel, and gate helpers, among others. It metes out fines, suspensions, and other forms of punishment to erring persons involved in horseracing.

D.     Horseracing is a heavily taxed sport

According to Philracom, the Manila Jockey Club Inc. (MJCI) and Philippine Racing Club, Inc. (PRCI) had generated combined gross sales of P7.9 billion in 2011 and P7.6 billion in 2012 and paid direct taxes of at least P1.0 billion and an unquantifiable amount in indirect taxes. 

Horseracing is one of the heaviest, if not the heaviest, taxed sports business in the country. Taxes are imposed on bets, winning tickets, and prizes of owners of participating horses, trainers, and jockeys in every race.

E.     Horseracing is for the masses

Horseracing has the support of ordinary people. It is the sports of the hoi polloi, or the masses. Ordinary citizens could place bets as low as two pesos in every race. No other sports have the support of the ordinary citizens.

Important details about horeracing in the Philippines

A.     Seven-day a week horseracing

Horseracing in the Philippines is a seven-day affair. Philracom rules has at least seven races; Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday, eight races each; Friday, nine races; and Saturday and Sunday, 12 races each, or an average of 66 races a week. 

Of the over 2,000 Philracom-registered racehorses, 60 to 70 percent can compete at any given time. Off-form and injured racehorses stay in different farms either to mature or recuperate. 

Racehorses compete in regular races or stakes races sponsored by state agencies, private corporations, or private parties. Horse owners decide on the participation of their horses on specific races.

B.     Outstanding bloodlines

Several outstanding thoroughbred bloodlines are present in the country. Progenies of champion horses from the United States, Australia, and New Zealand now participate in local races. In short, thoroughbred horseracing has come of age in the country. 

It has at least 50 stallions representing known thoroughbred bloodlines to serve a number of mares for crossbreeding and provide a steady supply of competitive racehorses. The supply and demand of racehorses is not a problem due to the presence of a competitive racehorse breeding industry. 

Philracom rules allow breeders are allowed to import racehorses to improve further the genetic stock of local racehorses.

C.     Competitive racetracks

The Philippines has three horseracing clubs, with each club possessing a racecourse outside Metro Manila, to conduct daily races. These are: Manila Jockey Club, Inc., which operates the 50-hectare San Lazaro Leisure and Business Park in Carmona Cavite; Philippine Racing Club Inc, which operates the 65-hectare Saddles and Club Leisure Park in Naic Cavite; and the Metro Manila Turf Club Inc, which operates the 45-hectare Metro Turf Park in Malvar, Batangas.  

They are reputed to have competitive racetrack facilities. They hold races on a rotation basis set by Philracom. The PRCI and MJCI are publicly listed corporations. They have been posting modest profits over the past two years.

D.     Corps of Professionals

Horseracing has a sufficient universe of horse owners, who, as the main entrepreneurs, compete in the horseracing business. It has horse breeders, competent veterinarians and medical doctors, horse trainers, jockeys, grooms, helpers, and other personnel, who could provide support services for horseracing in the country. Ownership, professional services, and manpower supply do not constitute a problem in local horseracing.

E.     Network of OTBs

The three racing clubs have a network of more than 300 off track betting stations, or OTBs, which serve as their virtual marketing arms outside their racetracks. They collect public bets and pay dividends to winning tickets. 

These OTBs are scattered mostly in Metro Manila. Some OTBs are situated in the outlaying provinces outside Metro Manila. The three racing clubs accept telephone bets, but they have not been substantial.

Discussions

Thoroughbred horseracing has enormous potentials in the country. Since thoroughbred horseracing is part of Philippine culture, it should not just be left to deteriorate and die due to indifference and official inaction.

The imperative is for the government and various stakeholders to reinvent thoroughbred horseracing as a wholesome and socially accepted sport and recreation. The reinvention should stress its wholesome character, not its gambling side.

Moreover, thoroughbred horseracing has to be reinvented and presented as a family sport. Attending races could be an occasion or activity for family bonding.

This reinvention requires a three-year reengineering program, which would revolve in the entry of a well-funded dominant player that would pursue aggressively market expansion to population centers in northern, central, and southern Luzon, the Visayas, and Mindanao and use modern technology for nationwide coverage.

Reinvention

The reinvention – and eventual transformation - of thoroughbred horseracing from a form of state-abetted public gambling into a more wholesome family sport and entertainment would require a new dominant player, which would subsequently introduce a business model and reengineering program that would turn horseracing upside down.

It is ideal that the dominant player is a major conglomerate that has an existing nationwide network, which could be used to spread an equally nationwide public betting network, and allied businesses that could be used as platforms to complement the operations of a nationwide thoroughbred horseracing business.

Issues confronting the horseracing business

Despite its rich traditions, horseracing has not been a nationwide sport or form of recreation and diversion. It is mainly based in Metro Manila and some outlaying areas and provinces. It has many issues, which restrict its growth and hamper its expansion and potentials. These issues are multifaceted and overlapping. These issues include the following:

A.     High taxes

The government has imposed taxes on bets, winning tickets, and prizes of owners of participating horses, trainers and jockeys. After all those tax deductions, only 65 percent of the betting pie goes to dividends. 

The remaining 35 percent go to a combination of taxes, operating expenses, and the Club’s commission for holding the races. Because of the taxes and other incidental expenses, the dividend for winning tickets becomes smaller, becoming a disincentive for the betting public.

B.     Stagnant sales

Gross revenues of the two racing clubs have been stagnant, if not on a steady and gradual decline over the years. Philracom said the Manila Jockey Club Inc. (MJCI) and Philippine Racing Club, Inc. (PRCI) had posted combined gross sales of P7.9 billion in 2011, but it went down to P7.6 billion in 2012. 

The average daily sales is around P24 million, which is many times lower compared to gross sales in Hong Kong, and other horseracing cities in Asia. Because of stagnant sales, profitability is adversely affected; the racing clubs could hardly go to any expansion mode. As a result, their betting niche has hardly expanded over the years.

C.     Changing business models

Because of the declining sales, the two major racing clubs have not depended much on horseracing sales. They have cultivated their real estate business, which has been triggered by the sale of their erstwhile racecourses in Metro Manila and their transfer to those racetracks in Cavite province. Their business models appear to have changed drastically as indicated by official data.

According to its website, the PRCI registered net horseracing sales (minus taxes, operational expenses, franchise commissions and other expenses) of P316.9 million in 2011, P324.5 million in 2010, and P321.7 million in 2009. It posted a net profit of P228.1 million in 2011 and net losses of P33.9 million in 2012 and P58.5 million in 2009. 

Its profit turnaround is attributed to the sale of the old Sta. Ana Racetrack, a 21-hectare prime real estate at the heart of Makati City. The PRCI entered into its book a net profit of P284.3 million from its sale to Ayala Land.

According to its website, the MJCI recorded net sales of P749.7 million in 2009, of which P279.9 million came from horseracing, P311.4 million from real estate transactions, and P156.4 million from its rent of horse stables and condominium units. 

It posted net sales of 731.3 million in 2008, of which P273.4 million came from horseracing, P311.8 million from real estate, and P146.2 million from rent, and net sales of P756.9 million in 2007, of which P331.7 million came from horseracing, P296.1 million from real estate, and P129.1 million from rent. 

Its net profit reached P41.2 million in 2009, P21.2 million in 2008, and P47.9 million in 2007. MJCI has been concentrating largely on its real estate and rental businesses, making them part of its core business.

Meanwhile, MJCI’s net assets declined to P3.63 billion in 2009 from P3.68 billion in 2008, while PRCI’s net assets rose to P2.84 billion in 2011 from P1.97 billion in 2010 largely from the sale of its racetrack in Makati City.

D.     Lack of perceptible marketing programs

The two racing clubs have hardly launched aggressive marketing programs to capture a bigger market. Despite the changing technology, horseracing is still confined to Metro Manila and some outlaying areas. Its betting niche is limited to the silver generation, or people, 40 years of age and above, 90 percent of which belong to the C and D market. 

It has neither expanded to the northern, central, or southern Luzon, the Visayas and Mindanao nor enticed people below 40 years of age to try horseracing, or those in the higher income bracket, mainly the A and B market.

E.     Inability to use the digital technology

Modern technology, specifically digital technology, has been consistently and persistently developing to enable racing aficionados to watch – and place bets on – actual races on a nationwide basis. This is also possible overseas. 

The racing clubs have not exploited this technological capability. Thus, the three clubs are limited to its traditional base of operations – Metro Manila with its old core of bettors. They are enmeshed in the traditional ways of betting, as they rely on their off-track betting stations (OTBs) as their marketing arms.

F.     Difficulty in putting up new OTBs

The political environment has been considered generally restrictive to put up new OTBs because of the difficulties to get permits from local officials – from the barangays to the city government governments. The inability to put new OTBs means stagnant sales. 

Moreover, the ridiculously low commission, or 0.75 percent of gross sales, which the three racing clubs give to OTB operators, has been a disincentive for prospective OTB operators. Hence, the three racing clubs have to depend on the 300 OTBs scattered mostly in Metro manila and its outlaying areas.

G.    Public perception of rigged horse races

The public perception that certain horse owners resort to game-fixing to earn a windfall has dampened the bettors’ enthusiasm. This leads to the declining sales in horseracing. This is a lingering issue, which the racing authorities deal squarely by imposing severe punishments on erring horse owners, trainers, and jockeys. But it persists.

H.     Presence of illegal bookie joints

Illegal bookie joints compete with the officially sanctioned off-tracks betting stations (OTBs) of the three racetracks. A one-peso bet is usually given an added value of between 10 to 20 percent. Illegal bookie joints have flourished in many areas, where the three racing clubs hardly have presence. 

They become the convenient substitutes for OTBs. This is a police matter that has not been adequately addressed. Those illegal bookie joints have become part of the underground economy. It has been estimated that they take bets equivalent to the daily sales of the three racing clubs.

I.        Underinvestment

The three racing clubs have hardly invested on modern technology, limiting their presence on their traditional base of operations. They neither possess expansion plans not marketing programs. 

They are essentially timid in pouring new investments in horseracing. Because of the changing business models, the two traditional racing clubs – MJCI and PRCI – are more interested in real estate business. 

J.      Notorious gamblers as horse owners

This issue continues to affect the legitimate horse owners, who feel that other horse owners who are chronic gamblers and part of illegal gambling syndicates destroy the public image of horseracing as a wholesome sport. 

They could not take the presence of these horse owners, who are also perceived to be jueteng lords. 

THE FLOODS OF ESPANA

By Philip M. Lustre Jr.

Whenever the rainy season comes, I couldn't help but reminisce the days when I had to wade through the flooded streets of Manila to go to school or get home. 

Manila is an anomaly; it is below sea level unlike most cities of the world. 

A slight drizzle is enough to cause floods in its streets. 

The phrase "flash floods" has been coined to refer to the all-too-sudden surge of water to its streets.

Espana, the two-kilometer stretch from the University Belt to the boundary of Quezon City, has been the perfect barometer to measure the floods of Manila. 

When Espana gets flooded, we can always be sure that most streets of Manila are submerged in punishing flash floods. 

We don't really have to go around Manila to know the extent of floods. Espana is enough.

As a high school student at the University of Santo Tomas, I encountered numerous instances of flash floods that tortured this thoroughfare. 

The school authorities were then quick to suspend classes at the sight of an impending flash flood. But going home was always an aggravation. 

Floods of Espana were waist deep. 

It wasn't easy to navigate its waters because of the open manholes and floating debris. 

One could never be sure what would happen next when he steps on an open manhole.

Nothing much had changed when I went to college. 

Espana was never the road of choice for us. But we had to live with its floods, as if it was God's mandate for us to suffer its imperfection. 

We had learned to take the floods of Espana as normal, whenever the dreaded heavy rains started pouring.

But Espana has one quality that makes it different or even outstanding from the other thoroughfares. 

Despite the heavy rains and the subsequent flooding, its cemented road do wear off. I couldn't believe with my own two eyes that it never had any cracks or craters, which characterize the many cemented streets of Manila. 

Its construction is almost perfect.

Espana was cemented sometime in 1964 or 1965. 

Then, Manila Mayor Antonio Villegas, the half forgotten successor of the famous Arsenio Lacson, who died of heart attack, had it rebuilt and cemented. 

I don't know the private builder, I don't even know if it had one. But all I can say is that its builder knew its craft.

Moreover, I could also say that not much public money was stolen during its construction.

Probably, it was not then the habit to lose much money to graft during those days, unlike today. 

Thus, its builder had made Espana sturdy and strong to withstand the rigors of flash floods. Its design is almost flawless.

While Espana is a testament to the vagaries of nature, it's also a monument for Filipino ingenuity. 

It shows the Filipinos' capability and political will to build infrastructures that can last long. 

Unfortunately, the builder of cemented Espana has long been forgotten and lost to posterity. What a waste.

RETRO MUSIC IS FUN

By Philip M. Lustre Jr.

Retro music, or the songs of the not so distant past, is back with a vengeance. 

In the seeming scarcity of quality contemporary music, retro music, or the sounds of the 1950s to the 1970s, has invaded the airwaves, as older generations of listeners relish old memories with nostalgia. 

Retro music fills up the ennui, which the global community appears to experience nowadays.

The Filipino audience has all the reasons to prefer retro music. 

The current hip hop sound is difficult for the Filipinos to appreciate. Whether it's Eminem's or some black rap artists', Filipinos could not relate to their inner city angst and anger. 

In contrast, retro songs have universal messages, which Filipinos find meaningful and relevant.

Whether it's Jo Stafford or Frank Sinatra, or the Beatles or the Beach Boys on the airwaves, older Filipinos could easily hum a note or two. 

They identify themselves with those old songs. 

They could easily relate to them, as they associate some memories with the songs of the yesteryears.

This is something that can not be said of contemporary music, which, despite the globalization and the emerging global culture, is paradoxically confined to the inner city ​​experiences of those rap artists. 

The insularity of their music is baffling.

Yesterday, I heard Jo Stafford singing You Belong to Me, which was a hit in the 1950s. Suddenly, old memories cascaded into my mind - the Chevrolets and Buicks that ran through the streets of Manila in the 1960s, those nameless and faceless persons, who graced through my life, the school where I spent my elementary school years I was too ... overwhelmed by those memories.

Then, I heard the Beatles' Yesterday, and I could not help but remember the things I had as a kid and a teenager. 

The girls next door, the boyhood chums and the games we played, the fistfights I had with the other kids, the nights, where we chose to sing some lullabies to while away time, and the first drinking sessions and cigarettes I had with some trusted friends. 

I remember not the momentous and historic, but the inconsequential, which we usually take for granted.

I regard the computer and Youtube as the greatest inventions in my lifetime. I always make it a point to go to Youtube to watch and listen to some videos. 

Until one day, I had discovered that a local pop group, the Electromaniacs, has regrouped once more to play some of their greatest hits in the 1960s. 

To describe them as great is an understatement; They are amazing and unbelievable.

Through YouTube, I saw how Ernie Delgado, their aging but celebrated their lead guitarist, played hits like I Miss You So, Faithful Love, Lovers' Guitar, and Perfidia. 

I could only marvel at the human genius and say: Life is beautiful, is not it?

Listening to retro music brings the good old days. 

But on the second thought, I wonder why the old days are always good. 

I do not have any explanation to this except to take the belief that things are always good, when we're young. 

Our mental processes differ as as we get older. Those youthful experiences are more prominently etched in our mind.

Retro music is fun. 

Try to break the monotony of our lives and listen to artists of yesteryears. 

Whether it's the Monkees or the Rolling Stones or the Doors, or Cream, or Tony Bennett, or Elvis Presley, or the Temptations or the Four Tops, or the Supremes, or the local artists like Nora Aunor, or Tirso Cruz III, or Vilma Santos, or grandkids, or Hotdogs, we can rediscover the freshness and beauty of life. 

Then, we heave that deep, big sigh and say: Thank God, I'm alive l. Life is beautiful.

THE AFTERMATH OF NINOY AQUINO MURDER

By Philip M. Lustre Jr.

DICTATOR Ferdinand Marcos hardly anticipated the costly and prolonged public outrage over the Aug. 21, 1983 assassination of top opposition leader Benigno "Ninoy" Aquino Jr.

Despite his reputed erudite and wily political ways, Marcos could not stop the escalation of the Aquino’s brutal murder into crisis proportions, threatening his dictatorship for the first time in a decade.

Ensconced in Malacanang after his kidney transplant surgery, the convalescing Marcos watched helplessly as the Filipino people responded swiftly, overwhelmingly, and decisively on the brazen way Ninoy Aquino was killed while under his military escorts.

Despite the dictatorship’s tight control over the local media, news about Aquino’s murder spread like wildfire, triggering what could be regarded the start of the downfall of the Marcos dictatorial regime.

Ordinary citizens could not contain their utter shock, disbelief, and disgust over his murder committed in broad daylight.

Henceforth, Marcos had to explain a lot since the opposition leader was killed while under military custody. Moreover, the circumstances of his brutal murder showed a direct military conspiracy.

Hours after his murder, Filipinos from all walks of life – rich and poor, young, old, and the not-so-old, formed long queues to pay their last respect to Aquino, whose body was put for public viewing at the Aquinos’ residence in Times Street in Quezon City.

The Aquinos neither changed the clothes he wore upon arrival in Manila nor cleaned his wound and dirtied face, enabling the world to see what they did to Ninoy.

Two days later, wife Cory Aquino and their kids arrived from Boston and decided to transfer his remains to a bigger and spacious venue to accommodate the people, who paid their homage to him – the Santo Domingo Church along Quezon Avenue in Quezon City, which is about two kilometers from their residence.

The crowd got bigger and the queues, longer, as more Filipinos started to perceive Ninoy Aquino as a martyr of the cause of Philippine democracy.

Despite the public anger and polarizing effects of the brutal murder, known supporters of the dictatorship attempted to go to the wake to show sympathy and condole with the family.

But because of the tense situation, some visitors were shunned. Their rebuff revealed the deep political wounds his murder has caused.

Carlos P. Romulo, the former foreign affairs minister of the Marcos dictatorship,was among them. Burial marshals politely told him to leave, hurting his pride.

Later, he showed a change of heart by quietly denouncing the dictatorship, claiming that Marcos used his “international stature” to get what he wanted from the Americans.

Ten days later (August 31, 1983), the longest funeral procession in Philippine history took place. An estimated two million people participated to bring Ninoy’s remains to the Manila Memorial Park in suburban Paranaque City.

Almost overnight, an alphabet soup of organizations mushroomed to lead the protest demonstrations against the perceived complicity of the Marcos regime in Aquino’s murder.

The late younger brother Agapito, or Butz, who later became a senator, led in the creation of the August Twenty One Movement (ATOM), to press for the prosecution of the people behind Ninoy’s murder and signal the rise of the middle class in the protest movement against the Marcos authoritarian rule.

The Justice for Aquino, Justice for All (JAJA), became the broad coalition of all opposition forces, including the Left and the Right, against the Marcos dictatorship.

The Aug. 21, 1983 assassination of Ninoy Aquino drastically altered the political equation.

It galvanized the political resolve of the democratic opposition, as they went to the extent of pressing for the resignation of Marcos, whom the opposition leaders thought had blood in his hands, the end for the one-man rule, and the transition to democracy.

It served as the single spark to enhance communist insurgency in the country, as rebels recruit more adherents, staged more ambushes against government troopers, and intensify armed struggle.

The Aquino assassination also provided the impetus for the middle class to join the protest movement against Marcos dictatorial rule.

It weakened the ruling Kilusang Bagong Lipunan coalition, as its members began to doubt Marcos.

Overall, Marcos never felt it so bad until the Ninoy Aquino murder took place.

Even the U.S. State Department and the U.S. Embassy in Manila, as represented by Ambassador Michael Armacost, were so surprised by the public outrage, prompting them to start distancing from Marcos.

Seeing the magnitude and depth of the collective public anger over Aquino’s murder, Armacost avoided getting cozy and warm with the dictatorship, as he treated them with ultimate formality.

Where before Armacost was photographed dancing with Imelda, the ambassador avoided her except on formal occasions.

It was a sharp contrast to the friendship which the Marcoses enjoyed with U.S. President Ronald Reagan and wife Nancy.

Marcos’s response for the crisis was fatally short of any brinkmanship. He failed to convince the people that Rolando Galman was a communist hit man responsible for Ninoy’s death.

Marcos formed a commission led by his loyalist supporter in the Supreme Court, Chief Justice Enrique Fernando, to conduct an independent probe of Aquino’s murder, but the people repudiated the commission, raising the public perception that were appointed to rig the investigation.

Marcos replaced the Enrique Fernando commission with a five man commission led by retired appellate justice Corazon Agrava. The other commission members were Amado Dizon, Dante Santos, Luciano Salazar, and Ernesto Herrera, who rose to national prominence to become a senator.

The commission held daily hearings for almost a year and confirmed the public view that his murder was indeed a military conspiracy that involved Gen. Fabian Ver, chief of staff of the Armed Forces during those days.

The protest demonstrations continued.

Perfumed elites from Makati, corporate executives like Jaime Ongpin and Ramon del Rosario Jr. joined hands with the great unwashed to press for Marcos resignation and a transition to democracy.

In 1984, Marcos was forced to call elections for members of the regular Batasang Pambansa, where the political opposition won a quarter of the seats.

In late 1985, Marcos called for “snap” presidential elections, which culminated in the EDSA People Power Revolution.

The ultimate question: Who gave the order for Ninoy Aquino’s assassination?

The late Cory Aquino had put the blame squarely on dictator Ferdinand Marcos, but in the absence of direct evidence and corroborative statements, it was difficult for her to pin Marcos as the one who gave the order for his assassination.

But pieces of circumstantial evidence showed that it was Marcos, who personally gave the order to Imelda and close confidantes to kill Ninoy if he insisted on coming home on the date he was convalescing from his kidney transplant surgery.

In the dictator’s mind during those days, he was only implementing in an extrajudicial manner the death sentence a military commission, which was no different from a kangaroo court, gave in 1974 on trumped up charges of murder and subversion against him.

Imelda’s warning against Ninoy that he would be dead if he were to come home indicated that the Marcoses had plans to liquidate him.

What took place on Aug. 21, 1983 was premeditated by shown by the clock-like precision of the operations.

It was inconceivable that Marcos did not know it. He gave the order.

Hence, his order emboldened the likes of Avsecom chief Brig. Gen. Luther Custodio, a notorious Imelda loyalist, to kill Ninoy.

To whom did Marcos give the order to kill Ninoy?

Imelda knew and implemented it along with Ver and, of course, his younger brother, Cocoy Romualdez.

It is a big cause for bewilderment that Cocoy did not bother to return to the country, while others took the gamble to return.

Cocoy returned only when he was ill only to die of cancer in early 2012. Nobody could say with certainty his participation, but it has been whispered that he was among those entrusted to carry out that plan to kill Ninoy.

Ninoy Aquino’s murder would go down in history as the single spark that altered its course. Without this outrageous development, it would be inconceivable how history has unfolded.

THE AUGUST 21, 1983 ASSASSINATION OF BENIGNO "NINOY" AQUINO JR.

By Philip M. Lustre Jr.

(Notes: I was among the journalists, who covered the Aug. 21, 1983 assassination of Sen. Benigno Aquino Jr. at the Manila International Airport, now the Ninoy Aquino International Airport. The following is my narrative of the Aquino’s murder from a journalist’s lens.)

THE brief news report buried in one of the inside pages of the August 3, 1983 issue of the New York Times did not catch fire for ordinary readers. The news report, datelined Manila, said dictator Ferdinand Marcos would take a “two week seclusion” to finish "writing" his purported two books.

But the news report was enough to perk up the ebullient opposition leader Benigno “Ninoy” Aquino Jr., then a political exile in Boston, Massachusetts since 1980. Ninoy Aquino immediately felt that something wrong was happening to his political nemesis. He knew Marcos was ill during those days, but he was not sure of the details.

Like the rest of Filipinos, Aquino had no direct access to determine the veracity of those wild talks that kept on swirling about the presidential health.

The dictator’s health condition was among the tightly guarded secrets during the martial law days. Talks of his illness kept on circulating uncontrollably, although Marcos was quick to deny them. He appeared on government television several times to insist he was healthy.

The joke of those days: Aside from hidden wealth, Marcos also had hidden health.

Marcos never disclosed the state of his health during his rule, although he was said to be ill of a kidney disease. Except for some allergy and failing eyesight, Marcos kept on insisting he was fine. The dictator felt that any public disclosure of his actual health condition could create political instability.

As a dictator, he enjoyed enormous powers, almost limitless indeed. He held the fulcrum of power; he was the law. He was the center of political gravity during those heady days.

                                                

Although the dictatorship was all about him, Marcos was unprepared for the perceived chaos that could follow his death or permanent physical incapacity; he was deeply paranoid on the grim scenarios of a post-Marcos era. He neither perceived nor understood that those scenarios sprang from his own political experiment on authoritarianism.

Ninoy Aquino had a fairly comfortable life as an academic at the fabled Harvard University in Boston. But he never felt comfortable in his exile. As a rule, nobody enjoys being away from one’s homeland unless he is willing to give up his place of birth.

Ninoy Aquino said in several interviews there that he preferred to return home and die here instead of being mowed down by a Boston taxicab.

Relying on his network of informants in Manila and the U.S., Aquino knew that Marcos was indeed ill during those days. By his own reckoning, the dictator could die anytime, as he was then suffering from renal failure brought by lupus erythemathosus, a systemic disease that affects the body’s autoimmune system.

Ninoy Aquino did not want to become politically irrelevant in the ensuing political vacuum and chaos that could arise upon the death of Marcos. Ninoy Aquino decided to return home at all cost.

His homecoming was his tryst with destiny. It was a winner-take-all situation for him, although history showed that his bold act could make him a winner whether he came out dead or alive from it. He wanted to come home to initiate a democratic transition and present himself as an alternative to wife Imelda in case Marcos died.

Although he was short on details, Aquino was correct in thinking that Marcos was ill. Marcos had a kidney transplant on August 7, 1983. A pair of American surgeons from New York City did the surgery. His son, Ferdinand Jr., or  Bongbong, a defeated vice presidential candidate in 2016 presidential elections and a former governor and senator, was the donor to lessen the risk of organ rejection.

Manila-based operatives of the U.S. Central Intelligence Agency (CIA) learned the identities of the two New York City-based doctors after they reportedly bribed an immigration officer, who stamped the doctors’ passports at the airport, a book about Marcos said.

In brief, Imelda did not go to New York only to shop and demonstrate to the world how she spent senselessly the people's money, but to negotiate with surgeons, who could perform the kidney transplant on Marcos. Most likely, the U.S. government passed the information to Ninoy Aquino without necessarily giving full details.

For their part, Manila-based opposition leaders, particularly Salvador “Doy” Laurel, who headed the broad alliance of opposition leaders under the United Democratic Opposition (Unido) umbrella, appraised Aquino of the local situation, firming up the latter’s decision to return home.

During those days, a kidney transplant was not yet a perfected medical procedure. Kidney transplant patients had higher risks unlike today.

Call it political naivete, but Aquino thought -and was convinced - that Marcos, his fraternity brother at Upsilon Sigma Phi, could be persuaded to start a democratic transition. But the dictator was surrounded by hardliners like wife Imelda, Armed Forces chief of staff Gen. Fabian, and businessman Danding Cojuangco, who were lusting for power too.

Ninoy Aquino, who represented the other half of the political dichotomy with Marcos, set his appointment with destiny on Aug. 21, 1983. Aquino left Boston to take a circuitous route to Manila on August 16, 1983.

Using a fake passport with his nom de guerre Marcial Bonifacio, Aquino went to Singapore, Tokyo, and Taipei before proceeding to Manila on China Air Lines 811 flight. Incidentally, Imelda Marcos met Ninoy Aquino in New York sometime in May, 1983 to tell him to cancel his plan to come home for a while and generously offered financial assistance.

Ninoy refused prompting Imelda to say: “If you come home, you will be dead.” Imelda categorically told Aquino that they (referring to the Marcos couple) might not control their supporters from murdering him.

Facing the five-man Agrava commission, which Marcos had created to probe the Aquino-Galman double murder case, Doy Laurel corroborated the May, 1983 meeting between Imelda and Ninoy and confirmed that Imelda told Ninoy he would be dead if he would insist to return home.

Prior to Aquino’s homecoming, Laurel, through his spokesman Tony Alano, gave a daily briefing to Manila-based foreign journalists about Ninoy’s movements and whereabouts. They flocked to the airport on the day of his arrival.

As a Filipino journalist working in the Manila bureau of Jiji Press, a Japanese news agency, I was among the throngs of journalists, who went to the airport to cover Aquino’s homecoming.

I did not have any inkling that I would have a front seat to history and chronicle a tragedy of unimaginable magnitude, an event that could be the tipping point in the struggle against the Marcos dictatorship and all evils associated with it.

While going to the airport with the Shuji Onose, the Manila bureau chief, we witnessed the yellow ribbons tied to the trees and lampposts along Roxas Boulevard and Airport Avenue and throngs of people, who, I was told, came from Tarlac, to grace his homecoming.

Upon arrival, airport authorities herded us to the holding room, which was normally used for foreign dignitaries, who issued either arrival or departure statements. At first, we thought Aquino would give his arrival statement there.

Manila-based journalists working with foreign news organizations were mixed with opposition leaders and Aquino family members, whom we hardly knew during those days because they did not involve themselves in politics and, ergo, were low key.

I saw the likes of Dona Aurora, the mother, and siblings Paul, Butz, Maur Lichauco, and Tessie Oreta, although we came to know their identities later.

Doy Laurel, wife Celia, and their kids were there along with Senators Lorenzo Tanada, Rene Espina, and Mamintal Tamano and human rights lawyer Joker Arroyo.

I personally felt that the Aquino homecoming would be different from previous events that I covered and chronicled at the airport, when I saw an inordinate number of fully-armed soldiers deployed in the airport terminal building.

No one among the journalists, opposition leaders, and Aquino family members were allowed to go out of the holding room the very moment we entered into it.

We were completely locked in that room; we were sequestered there. We did not know anything that had happened outside the holding room.

I saw the stern-looking Col. Vicente Tigas, a ranking official of Gen. Ver’s Presidential Security Command, walked back and forth just outside the holding room with his hand held walkie-talkie radio, as if he was checking if all journalists were locked in that holding room.

Journalists of the crony papers were assigned in a different area, but because they knew the airport terrain, they went to the area where they could see the China Air Lines plane that brought in Aquino.

Recto Mercene of the crony paper Times Journal took those iconic shots of Ninoy Aquino’s body being dragged by soldiers to a waiting van.

The combined group of journalists and civilians felt bored and restless when at around 2 pm, a moon-faced, bespectacled American national with a pair of slit eyes barged into the holding room and went straight to Dona Aurora, the Aquino siblings, Tanada, and Arroyo to tell them nervously that Aquino, while in the custody of soldiers, was shot.

I was just a few meters away when Ken Kashiwahara of U.S. network ABC, husband of sister Lupita and Ninoy’s brother-in-law, tearfully said these words that continue to resonate into my mind: “They shot him... Yes, they shot him.”

A stunned Tanada asked: “Is he dead?” “Yes, he’s dead,” Kashiwahara replied as he recounted how the soldiers dragged his body to the van. Then, the Aquinos, Tanada, Arroyo, and others broke into tears.

Kashiwahara was too overwhelmed by emotions to narrate details of Aquino’s murder. But because he was a journalist too, he took pains to explain what exactly transpired when China Air Lines Flight 811 touched down at the airport and soldiers of the Aviation Security Command (AVSECOM), under Brig. Gen. Luther Custodio, took Aquino from his seat. Kashiwahara was our first source of information.

We did not know at that time that an unidentified guy, whom the military later alleged as Aquino’s gunman with communist links, was also killed on the airport tarmac.

Kashiwahara traveled to Manila to accompany Ninoy Aquino. His wife, Lupita, earlier arrived in Manila to prepare the homecoming. Jim Laurie, Kashiwahara’s colleague at ABC, also traveled with Ninoy Aquino’s party to do the coverage with his crew.

Other journalists in the China Air Lines flight included Sandra Burton of Time magazine, Max Vanzi of United Press International, and the controversial Kiyoshi Wakamiya, a freelance Japanese journalist, who earlier said he saw a soldier shot Aquino but later recanted it.

We went back to our office in the Ermita district to file the news report about Aquino’s murder. I called up various sources – opposition leaders, defense and military officials, Malacanang, and fellow working journalists (it was customary for us to share information) – for updates.

By 5:30 pm, we went back to the airport for the press conference of Maj. Gen. Prospero Olivas, PC-INP Metrocom chief, who told newsmen that the unidentified gunman (later known as Rolando Galman) shot Aquino with a 357 handgun.

At that point, Marcos had firmed up the theory that Aquino was killed by an alleged communist hit man.

By nightfall, more details trickled in. Aquino was brought by his military escorts to the Army Hospital in Fort Bonifacio.

When told, Doy Laurel, Dona Aurora, and Aquino’s siblings went to the army hospital, but were stopped at the entrance of Fort Bonifacio, forcing them to walk for an hour under the boiling sun because the soldiers did not allow them to use their vehicles in going to the hospital, and, of course, the confirmation that Aquino was dead.

By late evening, I had an idea that Aquino was a victim of a military rubout, a conspiracy of the lowest kind.

I consulted my media colleagues by telephone and the emerging consensus was that a military plot to kill him was implemented the moment he arrived in Manila.

By midnight, I felt the extreme exhaustion of our coverage. It was a long day indeed. Suddenly, I felt tears started rolling down my cheeks.

I am a journalist trained to take distance from my coverage. But I am also a Filipino, who felt indignant at the way they killed Aquino.

It was most repugnant for me to see a patriot being murdered in broad daylight.

My Japanese boss saw how I felt. He did not say a word, although I felt he sympathized with me.

He allowed me some minutes to compose myself out of respect for my feeling. Then, he gently told me we should go home for tomorrow’s coverage.

By 8 am the next day, I was in the office for another day of hard work.