AT MID-AFTERNOON in Dagupan City, hundreds of people sweat and jostle politely in an arena awaiting Grace Poe, one of five candidates vying to be elected president of the Philippines on May 9th. When she arrives, the crowd surges to greet her. But during her well-rehearsed stump speech, attention wavers. People shift in their seats. Some leave. Afterwards, some clamour for T-shirts she tosses from a truck, but the overall response seems more dutiful than passionate.
Ms Poe needs to do better than this to win. As the vote approaches, she appears stuck in second place; she must energise her supporters and attract more. But she seems too much of a trapo —a pun on “traditional politician” and a Tagalog word meaning “old rag”—for an electorate in an anti-establishment mood. This year, the more experienced candidates are doing worse in the polls. Battling for third and fourth position are Jejomar Binay, the vice-president, and Mar Roxas, a former cabinet minister who has been endorsed by the outgoing president, Benigno Aquino. Behind them is Miriam Defensor Santiago, a former judge who has served in all three branches of government.
The front-runner is Rodrigo Duterte (pictured, in striped shirt) a vulgar, impolitic mayor who has never sought national office, is not backed by any big party and appears wilfully ignorant on policy. His simple line—the system is broken; I’ll fix things—resonates with millions of people.
From outside, and even in many parts of Manila, the system hardly looks broken. The economy has grown steadily since 2000, and it has a healthy current-account surplus (see chart). The country’s credit rating has been raised, foreign cash has poured in and spending on infrastructure and social services has risen. Steady remittances from workers abroad, a booming service sector and low oil prices have helped keep demand humming. In the South China Sea the Philippines has stood up to China, contesting its expansive territorial claims. A peace deal ending decades of conflict in the southern region of Mindanao would have been signed, but for a botched raid in 2015 that killed 44 policemen. Even so, investment continues to pour into the underdeveloped island. As Japan, China and Thailand age, the Philippines is enjoying its demographic bonus: the median age is 22.
But not everyone has benefited equally. Many rural families remain in deep poverty. Most of the good jobs generated during Mr Aquino’s tenure are in cities. There are not enough for the millions joining the workforce each year. Urban poverty is rising. For all Mr Aquino’s talk of “the straight path”, corruption is endemic. Infrastructure spending is concentrated around Manila, fuelling anger in regions such as Visayas, Mindanao and distant parts of Luzon.
Mr Duterte is well-positioned to capitalise on that resentment. He is a Visayan who for most of the past 25 years has been mayor of Davao, Mindanao’s biggest city. He has strong support in both regions. His promise to fix a broken system has won over many in Manila who are frustrated by perpetual gridlock. He also taps into what Richard Javad Heydarian, a political analyst, calls “cacique democracy fatigue”: fading tolerance of a feudal politics long dominated by a few prominent families.
Because the trapos are polished and cautious, Mr Duterte’s rough bluster gives him an air of authenticity. His emphasis on crime and the difficulties of urban living appeals to ordinary folk. But he has a darker side. He reportedly forced a tourist who violated Davao’s anti-smoking ordinance to eat a cigarette butt. He called the pope “a son of a bitch” and, in speaking of an Australian missionary who had been raped and murdered during a prison riot, lamented that he had not been first in line to abuse her sexually. When American and Australian authorities tweeted their disgust at the “joke”, he dared both countries—allies the Philippines needs to counter Chinese assertiveness—to cut ties.
More worrying than Mr Duterte’s boorishness is his contempt for democracy and the rule of law. He has spoken approvingly of the extrajudicial killing of suspected criminals, and sneers at Westerners who “want to rehabilitate instead of just killing” criminals. He promises to end crime within six months of his election, and says his presidency is “going to be bloody. People will die.” People who fret over human rights, he said at an event on April 27th, are “cowards”. He praised Ferdinand Marcos, a longtime dictator who was overthrown in 1986, for his ability to “change the system”. (Mr Marcos’s son is near the top of the vice-presidential polls.)
To supporters, such talk shows that Mr Duterte will get things done. “Voters don’t care about process,” says Alan Peter Cayetano, Mr Duterte’s running mate: they just want things to work. Another Philippine politician once said something similar: “The times are too grave and the stakes too high for us to permit the customary concessions to traditional democratic processes.” That was Marcos in 1973, months after he declared martial law. He went on to torture and kill thousands of his countrymen.
Source: www.economist.com
