POLITICAL journalists called him “Hehe.” Pampango-speaking journalists called him “Labul” (wind) or “Malabul) (windy). They were not labels of disrespect, derision, and disdain. They were unofficial conferment of irreverence that bordered on insanity, endearment and fondness – all combined although not exactly in that order.
Journalists are basically irreverent. They have a hard time giving respect, much less submission, to authority or anybody who stands for it. They are creatures of hard-boiled cynicism. A journalist who sugar coats the words that come out from his pen is a failed journalist.
Heherson T. Alvarez, freedom fighter, political activist, senator and Cabinet secretary, champion of agrarian reform, and climate change advocate, has earned the unsavory epithets. Why not Throughout his public life, Heherson Alvarez, or Sonny to friends and foes alike, always came out flamboyant and flashy with his politics and advocacy, but impeccably precise and brilliantly swinging.
I came to know Sonny Alvarez, when I covered for the defunct Philippine Daily Globe newspaper the 8th Congress, particularly the Senate, which was formed after the Feb. 7, 1987 ratification of the Constitution. True to her promise, President Cory Aquino immediately called sometime in May the elections of lawmakers who would comprise the first post-Marcos Congress.
The creation of a new Congress was among the series of moves Cory Aquino took to establish a constitutional government replacing the Marcos dictatorship. The elections took place without many hitches. To my recollection, Sonny Alvarez came out brilliantly swinging, as he placed 8th of the 24 senators, who composed the first post-Marcos Senate.
Since I was a daily fixture when I pounded the Senate beat for my newspaper, Sonny Alvarez went out of his way to introduce himself. Senators had to establish rapport with the working press to convey their messages to our people. We function as their link to the people.
Cleverly dressed in his business suit shortly before the opening of the plenary session, Sonny approached me in the press box, introduced himself, and offered his hand in a gesture of goodwill. I gladly obliged with a handshake and big smile, but not without taking my own sweet way to establish rapport with him. I told him I knew him since way, way back when he was a delegate of the 1971 Constitutional Convention that drafted the 1973 Constitution.
That was in 1971. I was a college freshman in a big university when I watched the debate between him and Salvador Britannico, a fellow delegate in the Convention, in the university theater. The debate was about the U.S. military bases in the Philippines, which were controversial because of the abuses allegedly committed by U.S servicemen here. Besides, they symbolized U.S. imperialism, which during those days was a dirty phrase.
I told Sonny how he argued vigorously for the dismantling of the American bases in our country. I did not know that I struck a soft spot in his heart. Why not? Sonny, wife Cecilia Gudote, and children Hexilon and Hexilia just returned to the Philippines from political exile since 1972 in the U. S. They returned after 14 years of absence immediately after the 1986 EDSA People Power Revolution that toppled the detested Marcos dictatorship. Cory Aquino subsequently named him secretary of agrarian reform in the revolutionary government that replaced the Marcos dictatorship.
Those days, few people remembered Sonny and Cecille, an accomplished advocate of the performing arts, particularly the theater. They were reacquainting with the Philippines and its people. They were in process of reestablishing new connections. How a 33-year old journalist came to know him was a pleasant surprise, or even a serendipity for Sonny. He did not expect it. I surprised him with my repartee.
The get-to-know-you meeting was followed by more intimate meetings, where, along with other Senate beat reporters, interviewed him on a variety of issues. In one of those dinners he hosted for journalists, Sonny Alvarez took pleasure to explain that the period prior to the 1972 declaration of martial law era was among the best years of his life.
He fought the looming dictatorship of Ferdinand Marcos and his abuses, arguing before the Convention the inclusion of a transitory provision that would ban Ferdinand and wife Imelda from running for president in 1973. He also called for the dismantling of U.S. bases here. To end the issue of feudalism that beset the country during those days. Sonny Alvarez called for the redistribution of those big parcels of land to the landless tenants. It was an advocacy that he brought to the Senate when he became a lawmaker.
Sonny Alvarez recalled how he was invited by various student organizations and groups to speak on many issues during those days. Charismatic, handsome, and dashing, Sonny was the darling of the students and young intellectuals, as the country had the intellectual ferment of his era. Political activism was on an upswing. He was part of it.
Ferdinand Marcos answered the simmering tempest of those days with his own “revolution” – a counterfeit one as described by some quarters and historians. On Sept. 21, 1972, Marcos declared martial law not to meet the brewing communist insurgency, which he claimed was part of his “democratic revolution,” but to perpetuate himself in power. Sonny and wife Cecille escaped to the U.S., tricking the Marcos minions, who were then hot on their tracks.
Although Sonny and Cecille were engaged to get married, the couple had to advance their wedding schedule because of the exigencies of those days. Shortly before they left for the States, they did what is called “matrimonio de consciencia,” or marriage by conscience, where a couple gets married without proper documentation. The bells did not toll when they got married in a midnight rite officiated by a priest, who was their personal friend. It was an emergency marriage.
Incidentally, Sonny Alvarez was one of the very few, who refused to sign the 1973 Constitution. He was correct. That constitution became the constitution of the Marcos dictatorship. Had he signed it, his name would be regarded as one of the villains in history.
Sonny and Cecille lived together just like any married couple in the States. But they were political exiles. Like the other exiles, they were hounded by Marcos and his ilk there. In the interregnum between 1972 and 1986, Sonny Alvarez, along with fellow exile Raul Manglapus, led the U.S.-based political opposition to the Marcos dictatorship. They did lobbying works, informing the American public and U.S lawmakers about the conditions in the Philippines and the excesses of the Marcoses, and influencing their decisions when the issue of military aid was taken in the U.S. Congress.
Sonny Alvarez told me several secrets about the other Filipinos, who either migrated or worked in the U.S. The late former Manila Mayor Antonio Villegas, who left for the States after his defeat in 1971 to become a successful real estate agent there was “a complete asshole,” who avoided Filipino oppositionists like lepers. It was all for Yeba, his nickname, Sonny said with an air of disdain and derision. He did nothing but to enrich himself there. He was so filthy rich and comfortable to the point that he did not care for the Filipinos back home, he said.
The late Rafael Salas, the alleged technocrat and executive secretary, who left Marcos in 1969 to join the United Nations, was a “coward.” In two or three times they met to solicit support for the U.S. political opposition, or possibly join their ranks, Paeng Salas never gave any semblance of support; he never gave any commitment. When they met at certain rendezvous, Paeng Salas was nervous to the point of being paranoid. He was afraid that some agents of Marcos had tailed him. “Nerbiyoso iyon,” he said.
Ninoy Aquino, who went to the U.S. as an exile, and wife Cory took a liking of Sonny Alvarez. They worked together in the fight against the Marcos dictatorship. Because he was younger and more energetic, Sonny Alvarez served as sort of Ninoy Aquino’s secretary and assistant, although it was never officially conferred. Sonny Alvarez claimed Cory Aquino liked him because he did the laundry of his clothes when he stayed with them in their house in Boston. "Hindi ko siya pinaglaba ng mga damit ko," he said.
Cory Aquino did not like the idea that she did the laundry of the clothes of some compatriots when they were in the Aquinos’ house. She did not forget them when she became president. Yes, Sonny gave the names of abusive transients in the Aquinos’ abode in Boston. Not one of them got any appointment in her government. The Alvarez family went home soon after the EDSA People Revolution.
Essentially, each senator stood for specific advocacy or vision and mission in their incumbency. For his part, Sonny Alvarez fought for agrarian reform. He was the principal author of the Comprehensive Agrarian Reform Law, the landmark legislation that seeks to break the farmers’ bondage to the soil. For three or four months, Sonny Alvarez stood on the Senate floor to defend and push for enactment of the omnibus law.
He also chaired inquiries “in aid of legislation” of several issues notably the scandal on the sale of pieces of lands for agrarian reform. It was a scandal that led to the resignations of key officials of the Department of Agrarian Reform. It was discovered in the inquiry that the lands acquired by the government for farmers were in the mountains, and ergo, were not arable for farming.
But what surprises me until this day was his unusual capacity for marathon public hearings. Sonny chaired public hearings that lasted for seven or eight hours each. Yet, he came out of the public hearings with sufficient summations of the major points raised in the congressional inquiries. I did not see any other senator who could hold public hearings that last for eight hours. Sonny Alvarez was exceptional for his staying power in those punishing public heaings.
Sonny Alvarez was always vocal of his views regarding his colleagues in the 8th Congress. Jovito Salonga was a picture of moral rectitude, while Sotero Laurel was the man of the world, who knew dancing, singing, and practically everything about being human. He did not like Erap Estrada, as he described his Senate seat as" almost vacant."
He held the two lady senators - Letty Shahani and Santanina Rasul - in esteem and respect, but reserved unsavory remarks about Ernie Maceda, whom he regarded as too astute and political. I once saw him arguing bellicosely with Rene Saguisag on a matter of diverging opinions. No, he did not hold high opinion for Orly Mercado, but liked Tito Guingona for his fierce stand on graft in government.
In 1995, Sonny Alvarez and I went to Tahiti, one of the main islands in French Polynesia, to witness the protests of the Pacific Islanders on the underwater tests of France’s nuclear weapons. He talked to some local leaders there, while I did the news coverage. The news articles I wrote were carried by several newspapers here. By that time, Sonny Alvarez has opened a new vista for advocacy: climate change. It was an advocacy that he has carried until his death.
We stayed five days in that exotic island populated by seafaring Polynesians, who were said to have come from the Philippines and Indonesia. It was a time to know him better as we stayed together. We talked a lot of subjects during that brief sojourn, particularly his life as exile in the States and a sidekick of Ninoy Aquino in the States.
Going back to the opening paragraph of this tribute, irreverent journalists called him “Hehe,” not to laugh at him but to pay tribute to his parents, who coined He-Her-Son as the name of their son. It was unique; his parents were even ahead of the time. Hehe was the abbreviated form of his first name.
Journalists with Pampango roots could not help but notice his bravado when he came out with those astounding pronouncements. He could steal the thunder, so to speak. His statement usually come like gusts of a strong wind.
Farewell, Sonny, my friend. I feel sad that we did not have the chance to talk to each other over the last few years. But this is life at its purest. See you in some other time.
