Destiny and the Philippine presidency

Coverstory

SO MUCH is said about the presidency being destiny. Unfortunately, the Philippines’ destiny is also tied up with whoever destiny brings to the presidency.

In recent memory, among those who can be said to have been favored by destiny to become president were Corazon Aquino, the housewife and grieving widow, and Rodrigo Duterte, the foul-mouthed outsider without a political party who claimed until the last minute that he was not interested in being president.

Now, with Ferdinand Marcos Jr. leading in the election surveys, some people are again touting the idea of presidential destiny. Really? The scion of the dictator whose rule set back the country so much that we are still trying to recover from the deep and far-reaching economic setbacks, political divisions and institutional corruption that are the legacy of Marcosian rule? The son and brother of the family that has not shown a shred of remorse, facetiously telling Filipinos to “move on,” and not serving a second in jail despite hard-won and long-delayed convictions (as in the case of the mother, Imelda)?

What is destiny, exactly? Is it a person in the grip of something more powerful than himself and doing great things despite himself or in spite of the odds?

Mundane or epic

Destiny can be as mundane as meeting the person of your dreams and having your life changed forever. Or it can be as epic as being at the crossroads of world trade, of being the fiery volcanic chain whose very separation is our attraction. (Expansionists of all stripes could never keep their covetous eyes, and hands, off us.) Our archipelago is what remains after the rising seas submerged the land bridges that connected us to the continent (according to one theory, anyway). In that sense, our seas are our destiny, and if we cannot keep them, we cannot keep our country.

We do not go about our daily lives thinking of destiny. We just routinely make choices along our chosen path. Destiny has that element of it not being planned, not intended, not necessarily desired. It is not measurable or comprehensible in a deliberately conscious way, the X-factor that charisma, talent and timing bestow on a person, making him or her attractive and popular. 

And even then, speaking of choices, it is not so much what we did that we wonder about as what we did not do, for the choice we did not make because we chose someone or something else.

Paradox

There lies the paradox—we have a host of politicians (think De Venecia, Binay, Enrile, ad nauseam) scheming and crafting their careers to reach the presidency and failing miserably, and we have those anointed by destiny, the unwilling messiahs taking on the mantle of national leadership despite their worst selves.

And yet, political destiny presupposes design because it is the result of choice, of the act of shading that little circle in your voter’s ballot opposite the name of your chosen leader. Thus, destiny is the confluence of choices we make and choices made for us. Destiny is that part of us that reflects our unconscious and is expressed by a conscious act.

What is destiny, exactly? Is it being in a position to curse and kill at one’s behest and, at the same time, to be able to do a world of good, to attempt order where there is disorder, to upend the establishment and create a world where your reasons do not stand to reason?

Nature is merciless. Evolution happens because our system is naturally inclined to eliminating bad copies of ourselves. It grinds on, where form serves function, never the other way around. That is why political dynasties come and go. When they lose their dynamism, they are cast aside. It is the immune system of the body politic that decides which way to go, to succumb or to fight off those which threaten it with decay and death. Its support or banishment of political personalities, groups or ideologies is all part of our evolution towards political maturity and growth.

What is destiny, exactly? We do not know. But by its fruit we know it. It may be that which enables us to function productively in our lives, whether as individuals or as a nation. Or it may be that which causes us to lose all hope. It has no morals. It can be “good” or “bad.” 

Destiny is like a marriage between president and people. It can be for better or for worse.

(This article first appeared in the weekly OpinYon.)

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