Journal of Southeast Asian Studies 26, 2 (September 1995): 401-419 1995 by National University of Singapore

Toward a More Comprehensive Analysis of Philippine Politics: Beyond the Patron-Client, Factional Framework
BENEDICT J. TRIA KERKVLIET Australian National University Introduction Thirty years ago, a theory of Philippine politics emerged that until now remains the most influential among academics and is widely adopted by journalists, diplomats and other observers of the Philippines. Its argument, in brief, is that Philippine politics revolves around interpersonal relationships especially familial and patron-client ones and factions composed of personal alliances. I refer to this as the patron-client, factional framework (pcf, for short). It deserves to be influential; after all, patronclient and other personal relations are indeed significant in Philippine political life. These are also important features in many other countries; hence, the pcf framework developed for Philippine studies has contributed as well to comparative political studies. A serious problem with the framework, however, is that it leaves out and obscures a great deal about Philippine politics. Moreover, the framework is so routinely used by scholars and other observers that it has become reified to the point that it itself has almost become Philippine politics, rather than being a useful perspective or interpretation for making sense of aspects of political life. Two other interpretations of Philippine politics, which I refer to as dependency and elite democracy, bring in features of the country's political life that pcf misses. Yet they too omit much that is vital, and they share with the framework an emphasis on personal and patron-client relations. My central objection is that the pcf framework minimizes, even dismisses values and ideas, bases for organization and cooperation, and cleavages and frictions except those of a personal, familial, patron-client nature. Because other values, ideas, organizations, and conflicts are marginalized and deemed unimportant, Philippine politics and its society and culture generally are portrayed in a overly simplistic, untextured manner. And Filipinos for whom other dimensions do in fact matter are similarly reduced to mere caricatures of their fuller, more complicated selves. The main point I want to make is that the dominant, pcf framework is inadequate, as are the available alternatives. After elaborating what pcf is and what alternatives add, 111 look at elections where pcf is supposed to be most applicable then at a few other realms in the political landscape: politicians, political movements, and everyday politics. Patron-client Relations and Factions Mary Hollnsteiner, while trying to make sense of elections and related political events in a municipality in Luzon province, came to focus on family, kinship, and

I am grateful for comments on earlier versions from two anonymous readers for the Journal of Southeast Asian Studies and from Carl Lande, Melinda Tria Kerkvliet and Bruce Cruikshank.

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patron-client relations, which were the elements in rival factions and cliques.1 Carl Lande, while trying to figure out the political party system in the Philippines, arrived at the same relationships within Philippine society:
. . . the Philippine polity . . . is structured less by organized interest groups or by individuals who in politics think of themselves as members of categories, i.e., of distinctive social classes or occupations, than by a network of mutual aid relationships between pairs of individuals ("dyadic" ties . . . ) . To a large extent the dyadic ties with significance for Philippine politics are vertical ones, i.e., bonds between prosperous patrons and their poor and dependent clients.2

Patron-client relations, kinship networks, other personal followings, then, are basic units within political activity and organizations. They, in turn, compose "factions", the other important building block in political organizations, beginning at the local level. Typically, a local faction
. . . is a loose combination of a number of . . . family constellations with a rather large and prosperous family constellation at its core and smaller or less prosperous ones at its periphery. Within each family constellation a strong web of kinship ties binds related families together into a cohesive group. Between the allied constellations of a faction, a smaller number of dyadic ties - more commonly ties of marriage, compadre ties, or ties of patronship and clientship rather than ties of blood create a lesser bond. Family constellations work in alliance with one another for varying periods of time due to the need to create combinations large enough to compete with some prospect of success in local elections or in other community prestige contests.3

Alliances among families, patron-client clusters, and other personal followings are loose, unstable, and often shifting, as are alliances among factions themselves.4 Political parties are essentially composed of numerous alliances among these factions composed of families and patron-client networks. Which families and factions are in which faction and party fluctuates considerably, as do the number of parties (two major ones from 1946 until martial law in 1972, but also several minority parties; one major party during martial law until the early 1980s; and since then several parties, which gradually seem to be coalescing into a couple of main ones). But their elements those constellations of personal relations and their fluid nature persists. During elections, parties per se provide a label for candidates to run under. Candidates rely heavily on their own social networks, weaving together cascading tiers of client supporters and supplemented where necessary with money, material incentives, and

'Mary R. Hollnsteiner, The Dynamics of Power in a Philippine Municipality (Quezon City: Community Development Research Center, University of the Philippines, 1963). 2 Carl Lande, Leaders, Factions, and Parties: The Structure of Philippine Politics (New Haven: Southeast Asia Studies, Yale University, 1965), p. 1. 3 Ibid., p. 17. 4 Hollnsteiner, Dynamics of Power, Lande, Leaders, Factions, and Parties; Onofre Corpuz, The Philippines (Englewood Cliffs, N.J.: Prentice Hall, 1965), p. 97; Remigio E. Agpalo, The Political Elite and the People: A Study of Politics in Occidental Mindoro (Manila: College of Public Administration, University of the Philippines, 1972).

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promises. Local leaders tug on the lines of their clientelistic followings, hauling in votes for candidates for whom they in turn are clients themselves.5 Since Hollnsteiner and Lande's early work, the principal modification to this pcf framework is scholarship to explain the emergence of political machines. Personal networks, while vital for stitching factions together, are insufficient and inefficient for winning offices in large electorates. For that reason, "political machines" became apparent in the 1950s-1960s, fell on hard times during the Marcos years when his machine was the only game in the country, but have been resuscitated since the mid1980s.6 They are run by the politically skilled leaders of elite families as well as by "new men" from less wealthy and less well known family backgrounds who had the required savvy for the age of mass electoral politics.7 In order to compete for votes, scholars argue, personal connections are argumented with political machines that provide immediate material rewards and inducements not necessarily to voters directly, though there is evidence of that, but more often to key players in the provinces and municipalities who get their followers to vote for the machine's candidates. Machine politics has brought out more clearly the importance of money in Philippine politics, especially during elections. The pcf framework allows that monetary inducements to support or oppose particular candidates or factions are sometimes given.8 Elections that are battles between large political machines require politicians to come up with vast financial resources in order to stay in the game. This imperative, in turn, encourages politicians to concentrate on pork barrel programmes to curry favour with voters, to use public funds to finance their political machines, and to resort to other illegal practices. Politics, defined broadly, comprises the activities in which people, groups, and organizations engage in order to control, allocate, and use resources; politics also includes the values and ideas underlying those activities.9 According to the pcf framework, the underlying values and ideas in Philippine politics are largely if not exclusively

Lande, Leaders, Factions, and Politics; Carl Lande and Allan Cigler, "Social Cleavage and Political Parties in the Post-Marcos Philippines", Final Report for the U.S. Department of State's External Research Program and the University of Kansas, 1990, pp. 38-40; Agpalo, Political Elite and the People; Hollnsteiner, Dynamics of Power, Hirofumi Ando, "Elections in the Philippines: Mass-Elite Interaction Through the Electoral Process, 1946-1969" (Ph.D. diss., University of Michigan, 1971), ch. 6; Arthur Shantz, "Political Parties: The Changing Foundations of Philippine Democracy" (Ph.D. diss., University of Michigan, 1972), ch. 3. ^ h e revival of rival political machines since the demise of Marcos's is often cited in news coverage and commentary in the Philippines and abroad. For instance, see Conrado de Quiros, "A Triumph, Yes but of What", Philippine Daily Inquirer (16 May 1992): 5; Far Eastern Economic Review (19 March 1992): 22-30. 7 The term "new men" is from Kit Machado, who has done the most work on the evolution of Philippine political machines. K.G. Machado, "Changing Aspects of Factionalism in Philippine Local Politics", Asian Survey 11 (December): 1182-99; K.G. Machado, "Leadership and Organization in Philippine Local Politics" (Ph.D. diss., University of Washington, 1972); K.G. Machado, "Changing Patterns of Leadership Recruitment and the Emergence of the Professional Politician in Philippine Local Politics", in Political Change in the Philippines: Studies of Local Politics Preceding Martial Law, ed. Benedict J. Kerkvliet (Honolulu: Asian Studies at Hawaii, University Press of Hawaii, 1974), pp. 77-129. 8 For instance, see Lande, Leaders, Factions, and Parties, pp. 62, 68, 79, 115. 'Adrian Leftwich, "Politics: People, Resources, and Power", in What is Politics!, ed. Adrian Leftwich (Oxford: Basil Blackwell, 1984), pp. 64-65; Benedict J. Tria Kerkvliet, Everyday Politics in the Philippines: Class and Status Relations in a Central Luzon Village (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1990), p. 11.

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in the realm of personal attachments and animosities, personal allies and enemies, personal interests and those individuals with whom one has a personal relationship. Political struggle is about trying to gain access to and maintain control over resources in order to advance one's following and personal associations, while undermining and denying resources to rival individuals and factions. Cleavages are between people with different personal ambitions and interests. Organizations are built on connections, personal relationships and mutual self interest. In short, the framework leaves little or no room for other values and ideas, other bases for cleavage and struggle, other grounds for organizing and cooperating. Because of pervasive familial, patron-client, factional politics, according to the pcf framework, personal rivalries and ambitions determine Philippine political activity. Issues and concerns beyond individual and familial ones are of little or no importance, and no ideological positions or principals are at stake. Also, because kinship, patronclient relations, and alliances weave together people in different socioeconomic positions, relations between elite and masses, rich and poor, are symbiotic, smooth, and reciprocal.10 Struggles are between factions composed of people from various socioeconomic backgrounds, not between people in different classes, status groups, or even ethnic groups. The characteristics of Philippine politics on which the framework concentrates are particularly pronounced during elections. For politicians the crucial thing is to win office. Issues, to the extent they are addressed, are only window dressing for personal ambition. Politicians seek public office not to serve the public but to advance their own personal, familial, and factional interests. And ambitious politicians use lower offices as stepping stones to higher ones, seeking greater glory and power for themselves and their followers. As for voters, while some may regard elections as a way to participate in and affect the business of government, most take an instrumental approach, seeing elections as an opportunity to extract money, personal favours, or other immediate returns for themselves and their families in exchange for their votes. Elections are also ways to fulfill cliental obligations, by campaigning and voting for the candidates of one's patron and calling on family members and close friends to do the same. There are grounds for arguing that patron-client and other relations are important in Philippine politics. Clientelism as a basis for organizing thrives in conditions that are still pronounced in the Philippines: great inequality, absence of impersonal guarantees for physical and economic security, and the need for personal linkages beyond immediate kin as part of effort to have more security." Analysts, including myself, point to considerable evidence for the continued prevalence of patron-client relations and factionalism.12 The demise of the Marcos family and cronies has been followed, concludes a new study, by the "ascendancy and dominance of political

Hollnsteiner, Dynamics of Power, pp. 86, 91; Lande, Leaders, Factions, and Parties, pp. 10-12; Agpalo, Political Elite and the People, p. 374; and David Timberman, A Changeless Land- Continuity and Change in Philippine Politics (New York: M.E. Sharpe, 1991), pp. 23-24. "James Scott, "Patron-Client Politics and Political Change in Southeast Asia", in Friends, Followers, and Factions: A Reader in Political Clientelism, ed. Steffen Schmidt, et al. (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1977), p. 132. 12 Kerkvliet, Everyday Politics, ch. 7.

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clans " B A recent analysis of politics in southern Mindanao during the 1970s finds the pcf framework still relevant for "laying bare the structural principles underlying both " politics and everyday life, the nexus of which is the political family.14 Another social scientist emphasizes the still "enduring aspects" of Philippine culture and values, which include "the primacy of kinship, the influence of particularism and personalism, the importance of reciprocity and patron-client relations, the emphasis on smooth-interpersonal relations, and the pervasive poverty on values and behaviour". And these in turn, he says, strongly shape Philippine politics. In particular, the "exclusiveness of the Filipino family, the importance of patron-client ties, and the strength of regional and linguistic affinities cause Filipino politics and governance to be highly personalist and particularistic".15 But are the values and so forth identified through the pcf framework the only important values and ideas, cleavages, and types of organizations in Philippine politics? Other Approaches Two additional approaches acknowledge the importance of patron-client and other personal politics in the Philippines but find the pcf framework inadequate to account for other prominent phenomena. The "elite democracy" approach says we must also understand the role of violence, coercion, intimidation, monetary inducements, and the considerable autonomy elites have to manipulate formal democratic procedures to their liking. The "neocolonial" or "dependency" argument emphasizes the influence, even control of foreign interests over Philippine politics. Elections are frequently more violent and vicious than the image of placid and tranquil alliance switching in a pcf framework conveys. Acknowledging and explaining this arid the routine violation of formal procedures are major differences between the pcf approach and the elite democracy interpretation of Philippine politics, which holds that the political system is essentially one in which elites use connections, wealth, and physical force to control the country's resources. Public offices are sources for personal fortune. The higher the office, the more lucrative the returns for one's family and allies, though officials in prosperous provinces and cities can also do very well. Consequently, elections are devices for political elites to sort out who will feast in the public larder for a term or two, and a way to make the masses feel a part of something from which they are actually shut out.16
13 Eric Gutierrez, et ai, All in the Family: A Study of Elites and Power Relations in the Philippines (Quezon City: Institute for Popular Democracy, 1992), p. 160. 14 Jeremy Beckett, "Political Families and Family Politics among the Muslim Maguindanaon of Cotabato", in An Anarchy of Families: State and Family in the Philippines, ed. Alfred McCoy (Madison: Center for Southeast Asian Studies, University of Wisconsin, 1993), p. 286. "Timberman, Changeless Land, pp. 15-16, 22. ''Benedict Anderson, "Cacique Democracy in the Philippines: Origins and Dreams", New Left Review 169 (1988): 3-31; Paul Hutchcroft, "Oligarchs and Cronies in the Philippine State: The Politics of Patrimonial Plunder", World Politics 43 (April 1991): 414-50; A.R. Magno, Power Without Form: Essays on the Filipino State and Politics (Manila: Kalikasan Press, 1990), pp. 70-92, 98-99; John Thayer Sidel, "Beyond PatronClient Relations: Warlordism and Local Politics in the Philippines", Kasarinlan 4 (1st Quarter 1989): 19-30. Also see Arthur Williams' dissertation which argues that if indeed patron-client relations were central to the system, far more resources would have trickled down to rural voters. Instead, most of money to which politicians had access, legally and illegally, stayed with them and within limited, elite circles [Arthur Williams, "Center, Bureaucracy, and Locality: Central-Local Relations in the Philippines" (Ph.D. diss., Cornell University, 1981), pp. 50ff.].

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Analysts within an elite democracy school are not alone in drawing attention to candidates and their minions who tamper with voting procedures, intimidate voters, and employ violent tactics. It is widely known that many politicians have bodyguards, and many have their own armies, which were dismantled or went underground during the 1970s martial law years but have since been revived. Some elites also use, when they can, the Philippine Constabulary, Army, police forces, and other institutions of the state in order to attain and retain public office. Whereas scholars working within the pcf framework find that violence and fraud are unusual and rarely affect outcomes, other analysts argue that such nefarious methods have long been prominent features of electoral politics.17 Negros Occidental, the Ilocos region, Cebu, and Marawi are among those parts of the country where endemic violence between rival candidates and their supporters has been reported.18 Many scholars have argued that the 1949 national election was very likely "won" by Quirino by means of padded electoral roles, fraudulent tallies, threats, and widespread physical violence." The neocolonial, dependency interpretation agrees with much of the elite democracy argument and acknowledges the importance of patron-client and factional politics. But whereas the elite democracy argument sees Filipino elites as able to manipulate foreign interests to their own advantage, the dependency school sees foreign businesses and American military interests dominating much of the Philippines, including the elites, who are in effect their clients. Neither of these additional views, however, brings in enough of the values, methods and motivations in the Philippine political landscape. The dependency approach allows for little Filipino initiative and tends to be mechanistic. The elite democracy interpretation is largely a sophisticated elaboration of the "guns, goons, and gold" view of Philippine politics, which is inadequate.

"Contrast, for instance, Carl Landed Southern Tagalog Voting, 1946-1963: Political Behaviour in a Philippine Region (Dekalb: Center for Southeast Asian Studies, Northern Illinois University, 1973), especially p. 99 and Shantz, "Political Parties", pp. 145, 244, 286-89 with Alfred McCoy, "Quezon's Commonwealth: The Emergence of Philippine Authoritarianism", in Philippine Colonial Democracy, ed. Ruby R. Paredes (Quezon City: Ateneo de Manila University Press, 1989), p. 131 and Eugene Gibbs, "Family and Politics: A study of a Filipino Middle Class Family" (Ph.D. diss., Claremont Graduate School, 1971), p. 127. 18 For Cebu see Resil Mojares, "Political Change in a Rural District in Cebu Province", in From Marcos to Aquino: Local Perspectives on Political Thansition in the Philippines, ed. Benedict J. Tria Kerkvliet and Resil Mojares (Honolulu: University of Hawaii Press, 1991), pp. 59-81; for Marawi, see Carter Bentley, "People Power and After in the Islamic City of Marawi", in From Marcos to Aquino, pp. 36-58; for Negros Occidental before and after the Marcos years, see Alfred McCoy, "The Restoration of Planter Power in La Carlota City", in From Marcos to Aquino, pp. 105-142. Jorge Coquia writes that the governor of Negros Occidental in the late 1940s and early 1950s financed his notorious private army from gambling dens sponsored by municipal mayors who collected protection money (tong) for the purpose. When units of the Philippine Army were sent there to police the polls in the 1951 elections, they were surprised to find that this "private army" was better equipped than they were [Jorge R. Coquia, The Philippine Presidential Election of 1953 (Manila: Philippine Education Foundation, 1955), pp. 37-38]. 19 See, for example, David Wurfel, Filipino Politics Development and Decay (Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1988), p. 37; Benedict J. Kerkvliet, The Huk Rebellion: A Study of Peasant Revolt in the Philippines (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1977), p. 205; Mark Thompson, Democratic Opposition to Sultanistic Rule: The Anti-Marcos Struggle and the Thoubles Transition in the Philippines (New Haven: Yale University Press, forthcoming); Coquia, Philippine Presidential Election, pp. 35-37, 111-14; and Frances L. Starner, Magsaysay and the Philippine Peasantry (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1961), pp. 60, 65-66, 252. Also see reports in the Manila Chronicle, September-November 1949.

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Both, however, do go beyond personal relationships. Neocolonial ambitions clash with nationalistic aspirations; landed elites have interests in common that supersede their factional differences; and local elites are at odds with central authorities. Motivations, obligations, and interests beyond, or in addition to, familial and narrow personal ones are widely manifested in Philippine political life. They include interests and values connected to class, status, ethnic, regional, local, and cultural identities that could figure in people's political activity. Another dimension, which may overlap with the former, encompasses ideas and ideals associated with ideologies like democracy, capitalism, communism, Marxism, Christianity, Islam, as well as less defined sets of ideals about how social, economic, and political life should or should not be organized. There is considerable evidence for these additional values and ideas, bases of organization, and cleavages in many political spheres. I am not arguing that the values and motivations emphasized by a pcf framework are absent; but I am saying that others are also important. In recent years two studies of national politics have tried to encompass a fuller range of ideas, organizational bases, and cleavages than the pcf, elite democracy, or dependency approaches can handle individually. One is David Wurfel's book.20 In places Wurfel uses a pcf approach, but the study also includes the politics of socioeconomic interests, in the form of peasant organizations, student groups, middle class organizations, and so forth. And in realm of ideas important to political activity, Wurfel discusses not only personal and familial loyalties and the like but also capitalism, Marxism, democratic values and liberation theology. The second is a book manuscript by Mark Thompson, who more self consciously than Wurfel steps outside pcf analysis.21 While he finds the framework useful, he also says it is too limiting. Like those who use elite democracy arguments, he says the pcf approach does not account for violence and other unsavoury aspects of Philippine politics. But going beyond both approaches, Thompson argues that important to understanding politics in the Philippines are "moral appeals" to people's desires for freedom, democracy, and ethical public servants, and appeals to people's feelings of pity, empathy, and compassion. The additional features of Philippine politics that Wurfel and Thompson bring into focus are the kind that I also want to include in a more comprehensive analysis. The remainder of the paper will elaborate. Elections Election campaigns are, indeed, often built around personalities: their networks and alliances, and political machines greased by patronage. Patron-client ties and factional affiliations, however, do not provide the only or even the most important motivations for people to vote for one candidate rather than another. For example, Filipinos often support candidates who come from their own region or speak their native language.22

l, Filipino Politics. Thompson, Democratic Opposition to Sultanistic Rule. ^Ando, "Elections in the Philippines", pp. 77-80; Lande, Southern Tagalog Voting, p. 98; Lande and Cigler, "Social Cleavage and Political Parties", pp. 38-41.
21

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Arguably, though, these considerations are complex manifestation of allegiances and values going back to the primacy of family ties in Philippine politics.23 More difficult to explain using a pcf interpretation is evidence that a number of other considerations influence the way people vote: policy matters; quality of leadership; one's perceived interests as a worker, tenant farmer, fisherperson, business person, student, upland resident, Muslim, or as someone in other economic, ethnic, and social positions; and moral issues.24 The mix and relative importance of these considerations, along with personal ones, can vary from place to place, over time, and from person to person. Worth stressing here is that social, economic, and political issues are often significant concerns for voters and candidates. Cesar Climaco, for example, was elected mayor of Zamboanga City in 1980 largely because he ran "on an explicitly anti-Marcos, anti-Martial Law platform", a position that also helped other candidates for local government in Mindanao to win that year.25 The 1970 election of delegates for the 1971 Constitutional Convention was electrified by discussions of the structure of government, the Marcos administration, and US military bases, and numerous additional issues.26 The importance of issues is not a recent development, either. Vigorous debate on issues during elections dates from at least the late 1930s when candidates for municipal offices in central Luzon in 1937 and 1940 were deeply immersed in debates regarding agricultural tenancy, workers' conditions, social justice, Philippine-American relations, among other matters. These again became major issues in election campaigns for congressional seats in 1946.27 Another important aspect of electoral politics that falls outside a pcf framework is the contending claims and views about the purpose and process of elections themselves. This contentious issue has been a vibrant motif in electoral politics since at least the 1930s. While many people see and use elections to advance personal and factional interests and capture the spoils of public office (views summarized in the pcf framework) and regard elections as a battles fought with "guns, goons, and gold", other Filipinos struggle to make elections to be about legitimacy, fairness, and democratic

^Shantz, "Political Parties", p. 275. ^Cristina Blanc-Szanton, "Change and Politics in a Western Visayan Municipality", in From Marcos to Aquino, pp. 82-104; James Eder, "Political Transition in a Palawan Farming Community", in From Marcos to Aquino, pp. 143-65; Benedict J. Tria Kerkvliet, "Understanding Politics in a Nueva Ecija Rural Community", in From Marcos to Aquino, pp. 226-46; Resil Mojares, "Political Change in a Rural District in Cebu Province", in From Marcos to Aquino, pp. 59-81; Raul Pertierra, "Community and Power in an Ilokano Municipality", in From Marcos to Aquino, pp. 247-65; Michael Pinches, "The Working Class Experience of Shame, Inequality and People Power in latalon, Manila", in From Marcos to Aquino, pp. 166-86; Rosanne Rutten, "Courting the Workers' Vote: Rhetoric and Response in a Philippine Hacienda Region" (New York: Working Paper Series, New School for Social Research, 1993); Mark Turner, "Politics During the Transition in Zamboanga City, 1984-1988", in From Marcos to Aquino, pp. 13-35; Willem Wolters, Politics, Patronage and Class Conflict in Central Luzon (The Hague: Institute of Social Studies, 1983), ch. 3; Fernando Zialcita, "Perspectives on Legitimacy in Ilocos Norte", in From Marcos to Aquino, pp. 266-87. ^Turner, "Politics During the Transition", p. 15. 26 Wurfel, Filipino Politics, p. 109; Petronilo Daroy, "On the Eve of Dictatorship and Revolution", in Dictatorship and Revolution: Roots of People's Power, ed. Aurora Javate-de Dios, et al. (Metro Manila: Conspectus, 1988), pp. 4, 7. 27 Kerkvliet, Huk Rebellion.

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processes. The latter claim that elections are or at least should be about making the country more democratic by following proper procedures to replace corrupt and selfcentred politicians and political machines with candidates who come closer to upholding democratic values and want to serve the country, not just themselves and personal circles. One can find numerous manifestations of ordinary Filipinos struggling to assert this second view of elections. I will refer to only a three specific cases here and then discuss a couple of elections in which contested meanings of elections were major themes.28 Before doing so, I want to mention that Lande himself has noted that people may turn against politicians who are too free and easy with the democratic rules and procedures, leaving some room for political considerations that would seem to fall outside the pcf framework.29 But he and others working within the framework say little more about such behaviour, implying it is of negligible importance, whereas I am suggesting it is central dynamic of electoral politics. In 1969, candidates who had lost the vote tally for the congressional seat in Batanes province protested that the "winner" had employed armed men to terrorise and coerce voters and polling station clerks. The "winner", of course, denied the allegations; and newspaper columnists believed him.30 When an official investigation began, eighteen Batanes teachers who had served as voting clerks stepped forward despite threats against their lives and testified that indeed armed men had forced them to endorse falsified tally sheets and other fraudulent voting procedures. Their testimonies and subsequent evidence that came to light led to the criminal charges against the "winner" and the proclamation of one of the "losing" candidates as the real winner.31 In 1982 the nation held elections for barrio captains, the first in ten years and the first local elections since Marcos had lifted martial law the year before. Many villagers in San Ricardo (Talavera, Nueva Ecija) had long waited for this election. They hoped the incumbent would be defeated, although they knew that he had the upper hand because he was backed by the municipal branch of Marcos's Kilusan Bagang Lipunan (KBL) political party. Using some of this political muscle, the incumbent captain maneuvered to prevent a potential opponent from filing candidacy papers, thereby assuring his re-election. His deed disgusted not only those who had long complained about his poor leadership but also numerous people who had previously supported him. To show their contempt, two-thirds of the registered voters either boycotted the election or voted for the person whose candidacy had been foiled.32 In the 1988 gubernatorial election in Ilocos Norte, the reportedly very popular candidate Rodolfo Farinas was nevertheless thought to have little chance of defeating Manuela Ablan, even though she was widely disliked in part because her family had smuggled in huge quantities of garlic from Taiwan, causing havoc for local garlic industry. The Ablan family was expected to use its hold over certain mayors, military

^For an elaboration, see Benedict J. Tria Kerkvliet, "Contested Meanings of Elections in the Philippines", unpublished paper, November 1993. 29 Lande, Leaders, Factions, and Parties, p. 54. ^Manila Chronicle, 25 Nov. 1969, p. 15; 28 Nov. 1969, p. 18. il Manila Chronicle, 18 Dec. 1969, p. 14; 22 Dec. 1969, p. 1; 1 Jan. 1970, p. 12; 21 Jan. 1970, p. 1; 3 Feb. 1970, p. 1. 32 Kerkvliet, Everyday Politics, p. 233-34.

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officers, and policemen to take the governorship one way or another. But a volunteer movement "to keep watch over the polls in all precincts" made the counting and reporting process honest, allowing Farinas to win.33 These small examples reveal people trying to preserve or create some integrity and honesty in elections and turn them into expressions of actual sentiments or evaluations of candidates and issues. In so doing, they engage and oppose those who have different, often sinister understandings of what elections are about. From time to time, these conflicting views of elections burst onto the national scene as major confrontations. One important period was the elections in 1951 (for congressional and lower offices) and 1953 (which featured a presidential election as well). They followed 1947 and 1949 elections (the latter also for the presidency), which were probably among the most sordid and foul in the country's history. Incumbents brazenly used their offices, the police, and the Philippine Constabulary to muscle and finagle their way to re-election. By 1951, many people were girding for even worse elections, despite electoral and other reforms in the interim aimed at trying to prevent a re-occurrence. Some Filipinos were so disgusted and dubious that the elections could be anything other than totally corrupt that they boycotted the elections and urged others to do likewise. Other people, however, went the opposite direction, throwing themselves into a struggle to prevent a repeat of 1947 and 1949. They reported to officials and the press cases of intimidation and violence, insisted on protecting polling stations against manipulation, monitored the counting of votes, publicized names of candidates and others who violated the rules, guarded ballot boxes, and often stood their ground against armed authorities who tried to scare them off. These widespread activities, coupled with improved media coverage and electoral reforms, contributed to making the 1951 and 1953 elections far cleaner than before. The most well-known among the many organizations pressing for honest elections was the National Movement for Free Elections (NAMFREL), established in mid 1951. Even many remote villages had NAMFREL chapters to help make the voting, tallying, and reporting that year surprisingly fair and peaceful. This was repeated in 1953 as even more people got involved in NAMFREL to democratize the election process. In both years, numerous other organizations also were active. Both 1951 and 1953 show determination among a wide spectrum of the population to make elections a major issue. Would elections be, as in the 1940s, largely a democratic facade behind which people are coerced, intimidated, and abused, and ballots are treated cavalierly? Or would there be substance to the democratic appearances? Put simply, would the country live up to the rhetoric, which nearly every leader espoused but too few practised, of free, open, honest elections? Many organizations and individuals were pressing for a "yes" answer to these last two questions. In 1986, a similar crisis over elections reached a crescendo, loosely referred to as the "people power revolution" which forced Ferdinand Marcos's authoritarian regime to fall. Not for a minute would I claim that this event was only about the meaning and purpose of elections. The dynamics of that year and events leading up to it were complex and their significance multifaceted. A credible argument could be made that

33

Zialcita, "Perspectives on Legitimacy", p. 281-82.

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1986 included a confrontation between competing clusters of elites the Marcos clique opposed by elite leaders coalesced by their determination to stop the Marcos dynasty and joined in the final hours by prominent Marcos supporters who defected.34 And as indicated earlier, certainly for many the election was about economic and political issues. Clientelism, factionalism, personal relations, regionalism, and other factors also influenced many people's votes and understanding of what the election was about. These lines of analysis, however revealing, leave out a vital dynamic. For millions of Filipinos the 1985-86 campaign was also a struggle to make elections an expression of people's views and desires for their country. They were determined to bring the voting process in line with the rhetoric that elections should be free of coercion, intimidation, cheating, and fraud. They sought to make this election a method by which the majority could decide what person and what kind of government was better for the country. The differences between Marcos and Aquino and what they represented were striking, certainly more so than in most national elections (in the Philippines or elsewhere, come to think of it). Closely related were the strong feelings across a wide spectrum of the country that the government had to change lest already terrible conditions become much worse and, especially, lest civil war, already pronounced in numerous areas, would spread. Or, an equally unpleasant alternative, many Filipinos feared that the military would forcefully topple the Marcos government and establish a military regime. For millions of anxious Filipinos, the 1986 election was the best chance, perhaps the last chance, to change peacefully (for the better they hoped) who rules and how.35 A key question for many Filipinos was would the 1986 election be manipulated and subverted by Marcos and his political machine or would it be a more credible and democratic process? Millions of people were determined to make sure it would be the latter. Two Filipinos, who had for years been active in anti-martial law and anti-Marcos struggles and, like many in their situation, were highly sceptical of elections and had considered boycotting the 1986 one, nevertheless opted instead for "critical participation". Seeing how people threw themselves into trying to make the election authentic was for them a real eye-opener. They wrote:
The whole experience . . . has been a humbling one for organizers like us. In the scenario building efforts, the external factors were all predicted but the people's response was not foreseen. I think it is because we [organizers] get lost in our

Symbolic of this elite alliance in opposition to Marcos regime was the "Facilitator Group", "Convenor Group", and "Potential Standard Bearers" a "Who's Who" of the business and political elite not holding national government office that emerged in 1984 then merged together later during that year and out of which in 1985 came the candidacies of Corazon Aquino and Salvador Laurel. (Ma. Serena I. Diokno, "Unity and Struggle", in Dictatorship and Revolution, pp. 152-55.) 35 A sense of this mood is conveyed in an interview with Cecilia Munoz Palma, a former Supreme Court justice who was active in political organizations opposing Marcos. [Paulynn P. Sicam, "Interview: Cecilia Munoz Palma", National Midweek (11 December 1985): 6-10.] Also see Ruben Canoy, The Counterfeit Revolution: Martial Law in the Philippines (Manila: Philippine Elections, 1980), pp. 248-50. Many people I met in 1985 in Manila and rural areas were terribly worried about spreading civil war and hoped that a peaceful election would reverse that trend. The importance of the election and the seriousness with which many ordinary citizens regarded it are conveyed in a marvellous film directed by Gary Kildea about villagers in Bukidnon province. (Gary Kildea, "Valencia Diary". Film/Video. Two hours. 1992.)

34

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Benedict J. Ttia Kerkvliet

own agenda and fail to listen to our own people and heed the signs, the mode of political participation they are most comfortable in the non-violent way. The [political] revolution has clearly advanced the struggle of the Filipinos for a more just and democratic society; it has given people a sharp and refreshing sense of the oft quoted cliche - sovereignty belongs to the people for in the end, it boils down to one thing we refused to be duped once more, to be dictated upon and to have the truth mangled.36

Politicians Many politicians in the Philippines do seem to fit within the pcf framework essentially preoccupied with personal power and promoting their own interests and those of their followers. Add to that the use of public office for self enrichment and thuggery of warlords and private armies emphasized in elite democracy school of analysis, one would have reason to think virtually no politicians in the country are concerned with anything having to do with policy issues, public interests, or political ideals. The billions of dollars stolen by Ferdinand and Imelda Marcos and colleagues in public office from the late 1960s to mid 1980s seem to many observers inside and outside the Philippines to be grotesquely magnified versions of what is common practice among the country's politicians. Is it enough to leave explanations of politicians' behaviour at that? Are ideas, ideals, values, and concerns beyond personal power and wealth really of no or miniscule concern to politicians in the Philippines? It is difficult to answer "yes". Too many people in public positions come to mind for whom these characterizations are not only inappropriate but unfair, stripping these public figures of laudable dimensions of their personalities and political work. This is not to say that they are totally altruistic or selfless, free of playing factional politics, or unexperienced in playing personal favourites. But at the same time, other ideas and values are important to them. Examples of national politicians of this kind in recent years could include Jose Diokno, Raul Manglapus, Jovito Salonga and Lorenzo M. Tanada. Many Filipinos, I suspect, would readily agree that these four senators, each elected more than once by national electorates, were politicians that do not fit the pcf stereotype. Yet they and others like them get little attention from academics.37 No doubt they engaged in patron-client and factional politics during their many years of public service and numerous election campaigns. But to leave their political behaviour at that would be a gross misrepresentation of their careers. They were also animated by human rights, public policy issues, significant legal questions, and philosophical dilemmas. They were not bought or manipulated men; nor were they apparently forever scheming how to buy and manipulate others. Debate, arguments, principles, and the public good mattered to them. All have been described as nationalists for arguing vigorously in favour of a Philippines independent of foreign involvement, especially from the United States. During martial law years, all could probably have become prominent in the Marcos regime; they at least could have kept their heads down and avoided clashing with that government. Instead, all were deeply involved in opposing Marcos and his form of rule.
36

Personal correspondence from Dinky and Hec Soliman, 11 March 1986. Though my search has not yet been comprehensive, I have thus far been unable to locate a scholarly analysis of any of these four politicians.
37

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Politicians like them have appeared not only recently or only on the national scene. There have been others in the past and in local public offices. Because even less is said about them, I would like to highlight here two such public servants. One is Pedro Abad Santos, who was first elected to Philippine National Assembly in 1916 and served two terms until 1923.38 No doubt he too was involved in personal factions and alliances, but like the senators mentioned above, other, broader, less immediately personal interests also stirred him. Abad Santos had fought in the revolution against Spain and subsequently against the United States until he was arrested and nearly executed. After being released from prison he resumed pressing nationalist ideals. He reportedly broke with his long-time friend Manuel Quezon, then a leading figure in the Assembly, over issues regarding Philippine independence. As a legislator he also opposed a head tax, supported women's suffrage, and favoured the legalization of divorce. So far as is known, he viewed public office as a place for giving public service, not for seeking self promotion or enrichment. Indeed, though the son of a wealthy landed family and once accustomed to plush surroundings, he chose a rather ascetic life during the 1920s and throughout the 1930s, when he was deeply involved in political activities pressing for improved rural conditions in central Luzon, especially in his home province of Pampanga. Why he turned to this cause is not clear. Part of the answer is a combination of his growing personal disgust with the arrogance of the wealthy toward the poor and his reading of Marx and other socialist writers from Europe and the United States. He may also have been influenced by the agrarian revolution brewing in China in the 1930s. In any event, his modest house in Pampanga became a centre for political work pressing for social and economic improvement of rural families. He was a leader in the province's largest labour organization Aguman ding Talapagobra (General Workers' Union) whose members were primarily workers on sugarcane plantations. He also founded the Socialist party in 1931 and was a prominent figure in the Popular Front party, a coalition of peasant, worker, and other cause-oriented organizations that ran candidates for municipal and provincial offices in Pampanga and nearby provinces in the 1930s. Abad Santos himself was a candidate for governor on the Popular Front ticket twice in the 1930s, running strongly on a platform that called for agrarian reform, better conditions for workers, and clean elections. He nearly won in the 1940 election, the year in which nine Popular Front candidates won mayorships in nine of Pampanga's twenty-one municipalities. In 1942 he was one of numerous outspoken opponents of the Japanese military regime, which in turn arrested and then executed him. The Popular Front mayors allied with Abad Santos were also likely motivated by issues and ideals rather than, or along with, personal advancement. My hunch is that residents of any part of the country could readily name local politicians of this kind. Certainly in San Ricardo and neighbouring villages I know in Nueva Ecija, residents can identify public office holders who do not fit the image conveyed by the pcf framework. One is Manuela Santa Ana Maclang.
38 This and the next paragraph are based on John A. Larkin, Sugar and the Origins of Modern Philippine Society (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1993), pp. 196-200; Antonio S. Tan, T h e Ideology of Pedro Abad Santos' Socialist Party" (Quezon City: Occasional Paper, Asian Center, University of the Philippines, 1984); Benedict J. Kerkvliet, "Peasant Rebellion in the Philippines" (Ph.D. diss., University of Wisconsin, Madison, 1972), pp. 139-55; and Kerkvliet, Huk Rebellion, pp. 52-53.

414

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Her first campaign for a seat on the municipal council in Talavera, Nueva Ecija, was in 1955. She was 31 years old, living in the village of San Ricardo where she had been born and raised, the daughter of poor peasant family. (Her father, Amando, had been a local peasant leader in the 1930s and was killed in 1944 in an battle between Japanese forces and a local group of the Hukbalahap guerrillas.) She won an overwhelming majority of votes in 1955, becoming the first woman in the municipality to serve as a council member. Four years later she tried, but failed, to become Talavera's vice mayor. That was the last of her electoral politics until 1987. In the interim, besides raising two children largely as a single parent (her husband, a Communist party leader, having been in prison for nearly 30 years on charges of subversion) and earning an income by various means from working in rice fields to selling insurance door to door in Nueva Ecija towns and villages she was active in numerous organizations pressing for agrarian reform and other peasant causes, including playing a leading role in the establishment of a marketing cooperative among rice farmers in the vicinity of San Ricardo. In 1987, in the first local elections following the end of the Marcos rule, she again successfully ran for a seat on Talavera's municipal council, a position she still held when I last met her in January 1994. Like anyone who is well known in the area, Santa Ana Maclang has a network of personal relationships, some of which probably are helpful in helping her win elections. But she is not preoccupied with building those networks and engaging in factional politics. The way she goes about her work as a councillor, cooperative leader, and activist in numerous causes readily conveys her deep involvement in issues bearing on land tenure, employment, health care, farm-gate prices for small rice growers, and numerous other problems that concern average villagers. Over the decades she has crossed and stood up to many large landowners, Constabulary officers, and others with more "clout" than she has. She has also disagreed with and had disputes with other peasant activists and leaders in San Ricardo and elsewhere in the province. She is an opinionated, strong willed person. She wins local elections, according to what people tell me and what I have observed, not so much because she is popular or has many contacts, friendships, and other personal linkages, rather more because she is widely respected and trusted as a person of considerable integrity and commitment to being decent, fair, and public (not self) serving. It is possible that the politicians cited in this section are truly exceptional. Even if they are, they still need to be accounted for and acknowledged, which the pcf framework and elite democracy and dependency alternatives do not. I suspect, however, that while most politicians may not be as admirable as these, a significant percentage are motivated in part by the kind of values and ideas that are striking in these examples. That is, the concerns of politicians are considerably more diverse than those emphasized in pcf, elite democracy, and dependency analyses. Political Movements This and the next section look at political areas other than elections and people holding public office. There are several possible realms to select from. One could look at the politics of institutions, such as universities, churches, bureaucracies, or the military; or at social and professional associations, like the Knights of Columbus, Masonic lodges, Philippine Mechanical Engineers Association, or Philippine Medical

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Association. If my argument is valid, then one would find in each of them a blend of values and ideas, bases of organization, and cleavages that fall within and outside a pcf framework. A quick example is the Philippine Catholic church. Several studies indicate that for decades politics within this organization has been richly textured by conflicts over profoundly political values and choices associated with issues ranging from supporting the Communist party to birth control.39 A pcf analysis, even one supplemented with dependency and elite democracy approaches, would be woefully inadequate as a framework for analyzing politics in these institutions. I cannot go further into institutional politics here. Instead, I will consider aspects of what might broadly be called "political movements" in the Philippines. Among the movements one could discuss are those involving students, women, Muslims, radicals (associated, for instance, with Communist parties in the country), and workers. There is a secondary literature for each, though it is sparse and much more research needs to be done. One could not adequately analyse these movements using a pcf framework. Too many dimensions would not fit. Matters highlighted by the pcf framework are present, but form only part of the story. Take the workers' movement, briefly. The history of labour federations and unions is laced with alliances and animosities among individual leaders, personal jealousies, and factional rivalries. And one can find numerous examples of labour leaders whose egos and personal ambitions far overshadowed their concern for championing the causes of working class men and women. But leaving the analysis there would be to leave out the numerous economic, social, and political issues that also motivate and mobilize union members and leaders, including sharp debates within the movement's unions and federations over strategies, tactics, and goals.40 Moreover, the history of confrontation between organized workers and their employers is clear evidence that a pcf framework depiction of no class or social antagonism is erroneous. Proof of sharp social conflict is also evident in the radical movement associated with Communist parties, armed rebellions, and protracted guerrilla warfare during much of this century. Only in a very limited way does the pcf framework help to explain aspects of that political history. Consider, for instance, the current splits within the Communist Party of the Philippines (CPP).41 From a pcf perspective, one could argue that the party is but another example of a Filipino organization that cannot sustain leadership transitions without splintering and factionalizing on account of personal vindictiveness and envy among egotistical leaders, each charging the others with abusing their positions of authority for personal gain and glory. There are grounds to support this interpretation. But as important, if not more so, is the evidence for deep, long-smouldering debates and discords within the party over a range of major political
39 See, for example, Robert Youngblood, Marcos Against the Church: Economic Development and Political Repression in the Philippines (Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1990); Wilfredo Fabros, The Church and Its Social Involvement in the Philippines, 1930-1972 (Quezon City: Ateneo de Manila University Press, 1988); and Pasquale T. Giordano, Awakening to Mission: The Philippine Catholic Church 1965-1981 (Quezon City: New Day Publishers, 1988). ""Melinda THa Kerkvliet, Manila Workers' Unions, 1900-1950 (Quezon City: New Day, 1992). 4l The following discussion is based on interviews with people close to the movement, Metro Manila, January 1994, articles in Kasarinlan, 1992-93, and the collection of Communist Party and New People's Army documents, Malalimang Pagsusuri at Pagpapabagong-sigla/Profound Re-examination and Revitalization (Metro Manila, circa 1993).

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questions. Among them are the role of urban insurrection, whether to tolerate or encourage peaceful rather than armed struggle, suitable forms of military organization, legitimate authority relationships within the party, and proper relations between the CPP and organizations allied with it. The movement I can say most about involves peasant and other rural worker organizations. Thinking about Philippine politics within a pcf framework, one could not imagine the streams, even torrents of rural organizations that have promoted a range of issues and causes generally aimed at trying to improve economic, political, and social conditions in the countryside. Yet this is precisely what the Philippines has had in the twentieth century. Thousands of small organizations of villagers have pressured local landowners and government officials to take their complaints seriously and numerous large regional and national federations and associations of peasant and agricultural workers have pushed for agrarian reforms and other policies. Several violent peasant uprisings have also occurred; some of them have grown into rural-based rebellions and revolutionary armies that have threatened to topple the state. The history of peasant organization, discontent, and occasional rebellion is, in part, a history of conflict between the poor and the better off, peasants and landlords, masses and elites precisely the cleavages that a pcf framework cannot accommodate. Similarly, that framework would not comprehend numerous political questions at the center of the peasant movement: demands for better tenancy arrangements, higher wages, decent living conditions, land redistribution, cheap credit, lower fertiliser prices, fair rice prices, and many more. One cannot understand the politics of peasant and agricultural worker organizations, whether small or large, without including such issues and questions in one's analysis. Nor can one comprehend the threat that rural people have posed to large landowners, sugar central owners, government officials, and other powerful interests who very often resorted to violence and other repression in an effort to silence peasant organizations. Recall, for example, that the Pambansang Kaisahan ng mga Magbubukid (PKM, National Peasants Union), a mid-194Os organization with 500,000 members, most of them in central Luzon, went into oblivion not for want of support from peasants but because landlord armies and government troops killed leaders and members and drove underground many of the rest. The Malayang Samahang Magsasaka (MASAKA, Free Association of Peasants), formed in the early 1960s to pressure the state to implement agrarian reform, collapsed not merely because of factionalism and personal rivalries within the organization though those existed and became serious in the late 1960s but also because the Marcos regime, when imposing martial law, raided its offices and harassed and arrested many members and leaders. A look at two recent peasant-oriented organizations that have had some serious internal conflicts is a useful way to illustrate briefly the limitations of a pcf approach.42 The two are Congress for People's Agrarian Reform (CPAR) and Kilusang Magbubukid ng Pilipinas (KMP, Peasant Movement of the Philippines). CPAR began in 1987 as an alliance among several peasant organizations (one of them being KMP) to campaign

42 This discussion is based on conversations during December 1993 and January 1994 with six people involved in these two organizations.

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for a more encompassing agrarian reform programme than the Aquino government was proposing. It became an effective advocate for agrarian reform and related concerns of its member organizations. But in 1993, it dissolved after several months of internal disagreements. The KMP, founded in 1985, had grown by the early 1990s into one of the country's largest peasant associations with chapters and affiliated groups in several provinces. But it also had many internal problems and in 1993 split into two organizations. Difficulties in each case included personal rivalries, suspicions, intrigues, and other features of factional politics corresponding to a pcf analysis. Regarding the KMP, clashing egos of national leaders figured in the organization's breakup. Jaime Tadeo was its founding chairperson and had served in that position until being sentenced to a prison term in 1990. Rafael Mariano, who had been a vicechairperson, then became the new chair. After being released in August 1993, Tadeo apparently expected to become again the chairperson but he was rebuffed by Mariano and others in the national council. Shortly after that, Tadeo and other national council members said to be loyal to him formed a new organization, the Democratic KMP (DKMP). This and related evidence, including charges and counter-charges between the two sides about misuse of KMP funds, could be woven into an analysis showing that the KMP split along fault lines created by personal rivalries between two leaders, each with his own set of followers. In other words, the organization was factionalized very much as a pcf framework would lead one to expect and could explain. A similar explanation could be made about CPAR. Leaders of some of the member organizations intimated that CPAR's secretariat, based in Quezon City, and its director, Dinky Soliman, were intruding on these leaders' turf, depriving these leaders and their organizations of possible funding from foundation donors, and skimming money for personal use charges the secretariat and Soliman denied. While such elements fitting a pcf analysis are evident, they do not do justice to the complex reasons for what happened to the two organizations. Vital to understanding the outcomes are long-standing arguments over strategies, tactics, and other substantive issues central to the purpose and meaning of each organization. To some extent, these issues are even entwined with the personal antagonisms in that individuals became identified with various conflicting positions. In the KMP a strenuous debate, dating from the late 1980s, regarding its relationship with the CPP ultimately contributed to the split. Leaders Mariano and Tadeo had gravitated to opposite positions on the issue. That debate generated several others as the CPP itself became deeply divided along a range of vital questions. CPAR's own fate was affected by the divisions within the KMP. And differences among CPAR's member organizations also contributed to its dissolution. For instance, some of those organizations wanted to get involved in the 1992 elections while others did not. Those that did could not agree on which candidates for president and other national offices would better serve their peasant memberships. And after the elections they disagreed on the extent to which they should work with or oppose the new Ramos government on agrarian reform matters. Perhaps the most exhausting debates were about numerous proposals and revised proposals for how to reorganise CPAR. Wrestling with these and other problems from 1991 onwards, CPAR was able to reach satisfactory solutions to some but not to all. Ultimately the member organizations decided to disband and go their separate ways. While my discussion of political movements is by no means exhaustive, it substantiates the main point that analyzing them requires more than a pcf framework.

418 Everyday Politics

Benedict J. Tria Kerkvliet

Another political realm is the vast, generally unorganized and informal discourse and activity of everyday politics where people come to terms with and/or contest norms and rules regarding authority, production, and the allocation of resources. Examining that terrain through only a pcf looking glass would overlook a great deal of interesting behaviour and thinking. Illustrative is research by Michael Pinches in Tatalon, a Quezon City neighbourhood composed mainly of poor people. There he finds a " . . . principle line of tension that runs through thought and action . . . , namely the tension between accommodation and resistance to the prevailing social order".43 Accommodation by poor Tatalon residents includes a range of activities, especially making ties to employers, wealthier neighbours, and other people in positions potentially of use to them inside and beyond Tatalon. Being in relatively disadvantageous positions socially, politically, and economically, these people nurture as best they can webs of relationships reaching upward into higher, more secure strata in the hope of being able to use those connections in time of need. They are clients to a series of patrons, proof that the pcf framework represents a Philippine reality. But there is more. Poor residents also are critical of how people above them in the social hierarchy treat and regard them. They carry around considerable resentment and hostility toward those with power over them. Being rather vulnerable, however, they rarely openly express those views, especially in the presence of the very people whom they resent. And when they do, they are likely to be guarded about it. A delightful example conveyed by Pinches occurred at a public meeting when the Marcos regime was still in power. Imelda Marcos had been boasting about her compassion for the poor and pledged to give squatters in Tatalon their land, at which point a man in the crowd held up a small pot of soil and shouted "one pot of land", indirectly mocking the First Lady.44 Such animosity would not square with a pcf portrayal of smooth, harmonious relations between elite and nonelite people. My research in San Ricardo, Nueva Ecija, also reveals that a major feature of everyday politics is cooperation and conflict among people in different classes and statuses about such matters as land, employment, working conditions, prices, opportunities for life improvement, and government opportunities.45 Understanding politics in this Central Luzon village requires examining both horizontal and vertical alignments and antagonisms. Patron-client relations and other vertical ties among unequals are without doubt important, but they are not the full range of interaction. Besides the making and nurturing of patron-client ties, everyday politics includes considerable resistance by subordinate villagers against the claims on them by wealthier people, capitalists, and the government and their struggle to claim what they believe should be theirs. As in Tatalon, such resistance in San Ricardo is often indirect, nonconfrontational, and hidden.

43

Pinches, "Working Class Experience", p. 183. "Ibid., p. 176. 45 Kerkvliet, Everyday Politics.

Beyond the Patron-Client, Factional Framework Conclusion

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Scholars do and should recognize the usefulness of the patron-client, factional framework. Also helpful are the arguments of elite democracy and dependency analyses regarding the presence of violence, greed, self-serving elites, and imperialism in Philippine politics. But we who study the Philippines should not limit our analyses to the features on which these approaches dwell. Much more is happening than they can accommodate. All the domains of political life discussed in this article elections, politicians, political movements, and everyday politics include values and ideas, cleavages, and associations that are not explained and scarcely recognized by patronclient, factional analysis. Politics in the Philippines cannot accurately be reduced to politics of personal relationships, and ambitions. However important those are, principles, beliefs about what is best for a constituency or a class of people or a nation, assessments of what is right or wrong beyond the personal, and many other considerations are also pervasive. And relations between classes and status groups, contrary to the pcf framework, are not necessarily harmonious and devoid of significant conflict. They may be, but they may instead be conflictual, and often they are both. Perhaps someone can eventually bring together into one, all-encompassing framework patron-client analysis, factionalism, political economy, class analysis, feminist analysis, post-modernism, and other approaches required to have a comprehensive understanding of Philippine politics. Then again, maybe that is not desirable. One reason the pcf framework has been so influential on scholarship besides it shedding light on certain aspects of political life is that it was readily available for analysts to use. Rather than figuring out for themselves an understanding of Philippine politics, many researchers have reached for a pcf approach, perhaps supplemented by an elite democracy interpretation, to bring order to the collage of material, leaving aside whatever did not fit. A new totalizing framework could have similar consequences. Exclusions and distortions are inevitable, no matter how comprehensive the analysis. Much in life eludes synthesis, though some syntheses are more inclusive and elegant than others. Rather than analysts now spending inordinate amounts of time and energy debating which single approach is best or how to combine many or all into one, it would be more productive to examine Philippine politics carefully while bearing in mind all or as many available interpretations and approaches as possible and remaining open to being surprised by findings that do not fit any of them. A scholar can then put forward an analysis in the spirit of struggling to gain greater insight and appreciation for what is going on without claiming that the particular framework used or argument made captures the essence of the entire society. One can be vigorous in arguing for the utility of one or a combination of approaches while at the same time acknowledging that other interpretations are plausible. Deep research on Philippine politics is still scarce. A great deal more should be done across an array of political life not just elections, political parties, and other conventional aspects of the landscape but also domains such as non-government institutions and organizations, political movements, and everyday politics. I would favour proceeding with that research in the manner just mentioned rather than insisting now on one approach to replace the once dominant patron-client, factional framework.