The second week of May 2010 marked important turning points in the evolution of Philippine democracy and the Cleveland Cavaliers franchise. On May 10, millions of Filipinos cast their votes for a new president, vice president, members of the national Congress and more than 17,000 local executive and legislative positions. By May 13, the Cavs had crashed out of the playoffs, dashing the hopes of millions of Cleveland sports fans.
I arrived in Manila a month before these events unfolded, a newcomer to the complex, opaque and often violent world of Philippine politics. I was privy to the uniquely tense moments in the run-up to the elections. As a native northeast Ohioan, the political tension was heightened by the Cavs' run in the Eastern Conference playoffs.
Temperature rising
The Philippines rarely attracts international media attention, despite its relative size, historical connections to the United States and long-running struggles with myriad problems. Its population of nearly 100 million makes it the 12th largest country in the world. The country is well endowed with natural and human resources, but its government is poorly run and plagued by corruption. As a result, the Philippines ranks 36th in the world in terms of GDP, but 162nd when it comes to GDP per capita. One-third of the population lives below the poverty line, suggesting that much of the country's wealth is concentrated in the hands of a few. Aside from poverty, inequality, and corruption, the country is rife with anti-government insurgency. No fewer than 14 insurgent groups are currently active in the country, including communist and Moro (Filipino Muslim) insurgencies, and the presence of the al-Qaeda–linked Abu Sayaf group, which has caught the attention of the U.S. government in the wake of 9/11. In short, the country is crowded, poor and plagued by conflict. As a result, more than 10 million Filipinos are working overseas.
Elections in the Philippines are typically accompanied by widespread violence and episodes of cheating and vote-buying. Political competition is entangled with family and business rivalries. Federal law adds fuel to the fire by allowing local officials to raise armed militias. Militias of rival candidates are prone to clashes during campaign season – more than 150 people were killed in elections-related violence in the run-up to the 2004 national elections.
It was into this tinderbox that I arrived in early April, tasked with setting up a research program focused on violent conflict and development assistance. I needed to delve deeply into the country's political economy – and quickly. While my days and nights would be consumed by this daunting task, the Cavs were in the back of my mind. The NBA playoffs were about to start and this was the year that the Cavs had to win a championship. If not, the consequences would be apocalyptic, with the city's developing economy threatened by LeBron's departure. I've lived overseas for the better part of the past decade, and following Cleveland's sports has been an easy way to maintain a connection to my hometown. Following the Cavs' run would be easy in a basketball-crazy country like the Philippines. The Cavs would play the lowly Bulls in the first round, so I could focus my attention on the troubled island of Mindanao in the south of the country. That was the plan, anyway.
Spoiler tactics
Mindanao is seriously affected by all of the major insurgencies present in the country, but is considered the heartland of the Moro insurgency. The insurgents have a strong hand in guiding local and national politics. The outgoing administration of Gloria Macapagal-Arroyo (GMA) allied itself closely with the Ampatuan clan, one of the most powerful Moro families in the region. In exchange for delivering the votes that helped GMA win the 2004 election, the Ampatuans were provided with extensive central government funding and leeway to run their local fiefdom with impunity.
The absence of accountability between center and periphery allowed local conflicts to boil over with disastrous consequences. Late last year, senior members of the Ampatuan clan led a group of thugs who massacred 57 people (all female members of a rival clan and accompanying journalists) as they were traveling to submit candidate registration papers in central Mindanao. Shortly thereafter, the GMA administration declared martial law in the Ampatuan's home province and initiated a process of hunting down the 3,000 or so members of the family's private militia.
I was set to travel to Cotabato City in central Mindanao, an area plagued by insurgent violence. By the time I arrived in late April the Cavs had beaten the Bulls in a hard-fought five-game series. They now had their sights set on the aging Celtics, and were ready to deliver some payback for the 2008 playoff loss.
As I arrived at the small open-air airport, I was greeted by a large contingent of Armed Forces of the Philippines (AFP) army and marines. A senior general had traveled on the same plane, ready to personally oversee AFP operations of securing voting centers throughout the region. During the course of my visit, I met with Moro and Philippine representatives of a joint committee set up to monitor a fragile ceasefire forged between the government and one of the Moro insurgent groups. I also met with the Malaysian general in charge of the International Monitoring Team (IMT), which monitors ceasefire violations. The joint ceasefire committee and the IMT had wisely taken steps to minimize the likelihood of any armed encounters between Moro and government forces – a wise decision, as thousands of foot soldiers from the Ampatuan's private army were on the loose and reportedly offering their services to the highest bidder. Nevertheless, all sides were noticeably distraught by the possibility of political violence engulfing their forces. It was with a great sense of relief that I boarded the plane back to Manila in early May, my notebooks filled with data and ideas.
I was soon to find out that tensions surrounding the presidential campaign were running just as high in the capital. Campaign tactics were ugly, with each candidate alluding to the specter of spontaneous and uncontrollable mobilization of mass demonstrations if he failed to win.
The x-factor in all of this was the introduction of computerized voting machines. In past elections votes had been cast and counted by hand, and therefore were vulnerable to countless and creative forms of fraud and manipulation. On May 8, the machines were rolled out and tested on a large scale for the first time. The results were not encouraging. More than 60 percent of the machines had failed, and a chorus of candidates began warning of total elections failure and mass chaos ensuing.
Thankfully, things were going better for the Cavs. The previous night, they had demolished the Celtics in game three in Boston, and looked set to take control of the series. Although I managed to catch the second half of the game one victory, the time difference meant that I had to go to work and couldn't watch the rest of the series live.
On elections day, May 10, I headed to the office early in the morning as voting began and the Cavs took on the Celtics in game four. Although the area around the office was eerily quiet, my heart was pounding. Would I be running for the airport in a few hours in the midst of chaos and violence? Would the Cavs consolidate their advantage over the Celtics and close out the series?
Fate of the "nations"
By midweek, the fate of the Philippines and the Cavs were moving in very different directions. The elections, contrary to the doomsday predictions by many, were a stunning success. Aside from the inconvenience of having to stand in long lines outside voting centers in 100-degree heat, voters turned out in droves to cast their votes using the new voting machines. While technical glitches delayed voting in some precincts (presidential candidate Noynoy Aquino himself had to wait four hours to cast his ballot), the mass failure predicted by many did not occur. Aquino had taken a commanding lead in the race for president, which would shield him from accusations of fraud or vote-rigging. Although voting failed to take place in 10 precincts in Mindanao, the initial results were encouraging. The Ampatuan's political power base looked to be weakened as the family's candidates were defeated by a number of rival tickets running for key local positions, including that of Maguindanao provincial governor. Analysts were cautiously optimistic that the arrival of a new, reform-minded presidential administration coupled with a weakened Ampatuan clan would bode well for peace in the southern Philippines.
The chaos predicted for the Philippines had, instead, enveloped the Cavs. The team collapsed and exited the playoffs after losing three games in a row, including the catastrophic 30-point home defeat in game five, when Cleveland fans turned against James. The horrid fiasco of James' free agency began in earnest, as did another painful round of soul-searching and rebuilding for the franchise.
The second week of May proved pivotal for both Philippine democracy and the Cavs as a franchise. The future of both remains uncertain, as ever. The optimism emerging from the positive elections results in the Philippines can literally be dashed at any moment, as the ugly reality of patronage politics takes shape. Cavs fans hold out hope that James will reject offers from other NBA teams and suit up for the Cavs again next season as coach Mike Brown and general manager Danny Ferry leave town. Whatever happens, the next year will be a fascinating one – for followers of the Philippines and Cavs alike.
