The Economist January 8th 2022 Asia 35N
o president ofthe Philippines
since Ferdinand Marcos, the late
dictator, has held such a grip on power as
the authoritarian Rodrigo Duterte. Nor
has any appeared so unconcerned at
accomplishing so little. His promises of
constitutional change, devolving power
from the centre in Manila, came to noth
ing. His kowtowing to President Xi Jin
ping of China brought little investment
and much resentment. By his own ad
mission, his war on drugs has failed—
though at a human cost, according to the
un’shumanrights body, of at least 8,000
dead in vigilantestyle killings. His ad
ministration has mishandled covid19,
with less than half of Filipinos fully
vaccinated and the economy nearly 6%
smaller than before the pandemic.
The gulf between his putative power
and what he has done with it is a central
feature of Mr Duterte’s sixyear rule,
which comes to an end after elections in
May (the constitution mandates a single
presidential term). Yet the president’s
Teflon approval rating presents a co
nundrum: though it has lately dipped a
bit, it remains impressive at 72%, accord
ing to Pulse Asia Research, a pollster.
Most other democratically elected presi
dents in the Philippines started off pop
ular, too, but then quickly crashed.
Perhaps the conundrum is in reality a
chimera. Ronald Mendoza of Ateneo de
Manila University suggests that herd
behaviour plays a powerful part in sur
veys of popular opinion among Filipi
nos. Probably more than in most places,
individual voting preferences and perso
nal political expressions are influenced
by what the neighbours think. That is
unsurprising in a political system with
powerful actors. Conformism is not just
acceptable; bucking it carries risks with
an authoritarian in charge. But the herdmay already be moving on, notwithstand
ing the poll ratings. After Mr Duterte de
clared in November that he would run for
vicepresident—a constitutionally du
bious move—so disapproving was the
popular reaction that he quickly withdrew.
To the political classes he is already a
hasbeen. They are abandoning him in
droves, starting with his own daughter,
Sara Duterte. Mayor, like her father before
her, of the southern city of Davao, she was
the most popular presidential possible
and the natural choice for the ruling par
ty’s candidate. But Ms Duterte’s relations
with her father have long been strained
(she blames him for her parents’ divorce).
She detests his henchmen and has no
desire to favour them.
Choosing to run for vicepresident
rather than president, she has thrown her
lot behind the presidential bid of Ferdi
nand Marcos’s 64yearold son, who goes
by “Bongbong”. As senator, Mr Marcos and
Mr Duterte had been allies in authoritar
ianism: the president even had the late
kleptocrat reburied, with full military
honours, in the national Cemetery of theHeroes. These days Mr Duterte snipes at
Mr Marcos, accusing him, variously, of
being weak, procommunist and a coke
snorter (Mr Marcos denies the claims).
Two other political dynasts and for
mer presidents, Joseph Estrada and,
especially, Gloria Macapagal Arroyo, back
the MarcosSara Duterte ticket. Mean
while, Mr Duterte’s own party is disin
tegrating. His favoured nominee and
chief henchman, Senator Bong Go, has
withdrawn from the presidential race.
The ruling party now has nobody con
testing the election. Only one candidate,
Isko Moreno, the mayor of Manila, seems
hungry for Mr Duterte’s endorsement.
But that is in order to win over his fol
lowers, mainly among the poorer classes,
not to inherit his legacy. Unlike the
president, Mr Moreno, who grew up in
the capital’s slums, holds moderate
political views and evinces competence.
The final months of Mr Duterte’s
presidency look likely to be taken up
with a growing scandal concerning a
pharmaceutical company with close ties
to the administration that was given
outsize government contracts. Corrup
tion, in other words, colours this presi
dency just as it did previous ones, de
spite his promises to stamp it out.
Mr Duterte, who rose to power by
presenting himself as an outsider, a
foulmouthed defender of ordinary folk,
is not the mouldbreaker he claimed to
be. True, he is the first president from
Mindanao in the far south. But for all his
current strains with his daughter, he is in
many ways typical of the political fam
ilies that have long dominated the Phil
ippines, acting like royalty and responsi
ble, as Mr Mendoza puts it, for bad go
vernance, stagnation and a sense of
impunity. Like many of his predecessors,
Mr Duterte will leave little behind.Rodrigo Duterte, the Philippines’ cantankerous strongman, leaves little behindBanyan The forgettable populist
minimises violence. Yet he admits that on
ly a tiny proportion of servicemen have ac
tually deserted so far. The Tatmadaw is
thought to number some 300,000 soldiers
and the police around 80,000. Nyi Thu Ta,
a former army captain and a founder of
People’s Soldiers, says that at least 10,000
soldiers would need to defect for “a crack
in the military to become obvious”.
Many soldiers in the Tatmadaw would
like to flee but cannot for various reasons,
according to the nug. The Tatmadaw close
ly monitors the rank and file. Contact with
the world outside the barracks is heavily
restricted. There are internet blackouts in
some camps. Most soldiers are no longer
allowed to leave the barracks without per
mission. Before the coup, deserters would
get five years in prison. Now they would
most likely be shot.
But the nugremains upbeat. Tatmadaw
troop numbers are misleading, says Kim
Jolliffe, an analyst. “A huge number” of sol
diers “are just guys with guns with very
limited training”. Morale is flagging, too.
The force faces more opposition than it has
encountered in a generation, and is fight
ing members of its own ethnic group, theBamar majority. It is struggling to recruit.
For every soldier who defects to the re
sistance, there are likely to be far more who
desert. According to Ye Myo Hein of the
Wilson Centre, an American thinktank,
between 5,000 and 7,000 soldiers aban
doned the army every year before the coup.
The figure in 2021 was probably much
higher. No matter why they run, fleeing
soldiers will recognise how Mr Ange Lay
felt when he drove out of the barracks. “I
felt I was so free...It waslike dropping
something, a burdenI hadbeen shoulder
ing for so many years.”n