Episode 101: Burma, A Ne Win Situation

 

 

With this episode, the second hundred episodes of the podcast will begin!  Today we look at Burma from the 1950s to 1988, going up to the point just before the country was renamed Myanmar.  During this period, the country had only two leaders, U Nu and Ne Win.  U Nu tried unsuccessfully to turn Burma into a socialist state, while Ne Win was a dictator who did some wild things because he was also superstitious.

https://blubrry.com/hoseasia/70370482/episode-101-burma-a-ne-win-situation/

 

(Transcript)

This episode is dedicated to Benedict P., and William L. N.  Both of them made donations to the podcast in early November 2020.  Benedict, it is good to hear from you again, and William, welcome to this happy podcast!  As I record this, today marks 35 years since my wife and I got married in the Philippines, so I hope both of you have something to celebrate as well.  May your steps always be guided down the path to success.

Episode 101: Burma, A Ne Win Situation

Greetings, dear listeners, from the hills of Bluegrass country in Kentucky!  Did you hear the episode number? #101!  This is where the second hundred episodes of the podcast will begin.  Today you are going to hear some of the craziest stories from Southeast Asia’s recent history.  In the previous episode we looked at the Marcos dictatorship in the Philippines, one of the easternmost countries in the region.  Ferdinand and Imelda Marcos were mainly interested in getting other people’s money, so sometimes we call their government a kleptocracy.  Now we are going to visit the Southeast Asian country that is farthest to the west – Burma, or as it is usually called today, Myanmar.  A dictatorship was set up here as well, but whereas the Philippine leaders were motivated by greed, the leader of the Burmese dictatorship had a very different motivation – superstition.

Our last episode that covered Burma’s history was Episode 63.  There we covered the path Burma took to independence after World War II.  The colonial power, Great Britain, tried for a while to hold onto its empire, the so called “Empire on Which the Sun Never Sets,” but with its chief colony, India, getting ready for independence, London soon realized that keeping all the other colonies was unrealistic.  However, the British had trouble accepting the leaders that the Burmese wanted, for the main nationalist group, now called the Anti-Fascist People’s Freedom League, or AFPFL, had fought on the side of the Japanese for most of the recent war.  Eventually they did accept the leader of the nationalists, Aung San, but then tragically, he was assassinated in July 1947, six months before independence was scheduled to take place.  Aung San’s death went a long way towards explaining the troubles that have happened since then, because he was the only leader the Burmese people liked very much.

Independence would come at 4:20 AM on January 4, 1948; that time was chosen by the country’s astrologers as the most auspicious, or luckiest moment.  Even so, revolts broke out all over the land, and for a while it looked like the new nation would disintegrate just as it was being proclaimed.  At one point, one of the rebel groups, the Karen tribe, had soldiers only four miles from Rangoon, the nation’s capital.  Other minority groups in revolt besides the Karens included the Mons, the Pa-O, and the Arakanese, both Moslem and Buddhist Arakanese factions.  In addition, there were disgruntled communist factions, and thousands of Nationalist Chinese soldiers crossed the border as refugees, after the communist takeover of their homeland.  Some of the Nationalist Chinese became drug lords in the opium-growing area where Burma, Thailand and Laos meet, the infamous “Golden Triangle.”  Eventually the government was able to take most of the country back, but it could not stamp out the revolts completely.  In fact, the Karen revolt is still going on as I record this, seventy-one years after it began.

The time frame covered by today’s episode runs from the 1950s to 1988, almost two full generations.  However, it won’t take as long to cover this period as it would, if we were talking about another country.  The main reason for this is Burma’s isolation; I told you in a previous episode that for most of my lifetime, Burma was ruled by a military junta that got along with almost nobody, and was damn proud of it.  Consequently Burma saw few visitors, and the outside world rarely heard from it or the Burmese people.  Many of the events that would have become news stories in other countries, went unreported when they happened in Burma.  For instance, when I was a kid, about the only time I saw a news story from Burma was in 1975, when an earthquake severely damaged Bagan, the ancient city of pagodas that was featured in Episode 9.  And speaking of the Burmese people, I grew up in Florida, an American state with a large, ethnically diverse population, but I was in my 40s before I met someone from Burma.  Finally, there is the matter of geography.  Away from this podcast, I don’t have to tell too many folks that Thailand used to be called Siam, but while it has been thirty-one years since Burma was officially renamed Myanmar, I still regularly have to let people know about the name change, even more often than I have to tell them that the Tuva district of Siberia used to be an independent state called Tannu-Tuva.  

Another factor that makes today’s story easier to tell is that for the first forty years after independence, from 1948 to 1988, Burma was run by only two people, U Nu and Ne Win, so we won’t have to talk about many changes of government.  We have met U Nu and Ne Win before in this podcast; like Aung San, both of them came from the Thakin Society, the group of college students in the 1930s who were Burma’s most successful nationalist movement.  Indeed, I referred to U Nu as Thakin Nu, until he succeeded Aung San and became the first post-independence prime minister.  Now in this episode we won’t get to the point where Burma’s name was changed to Myanmar, but we will stop right before that happens.  Therefore I don’t plan on using the name “Myanmar” for most of this episode.

One more thing.  Before beginning today’s narrative, I will apologize in advance for mispronouncing any Burmese names.  That is probably unavoidable for a native English speaker like me.  I have said before that I find Burmese names a challenge.  Okay, if you’re ready, let’s go.

<Interlude>

*****

We saw in previous episodes that the time when the British Empire ruled Burma was not its finest hour.  In fact, it was so bad that after Burma became independent, it did not join the British Commonwealth of Nations, Britain’s club for former colonies.  The anti-Western feeling in independent Burma was so strong that it rejected capitalism and tried to build the country along socialist lines.  Both U Nu and his successor, General Ne Win, developed a national policy that combined socialism, Buddhism, and isolationism, calling it "the Burmese Way to Socialism."

U Nu’s main accomplishment was a Buddhist revival.  From 1954 to 1956 he hosted the Sixth World Buddhist Council, the first international convention of Buddhist monks and scholars that had been held in nearly a century.  He traveled abroad often and became a respected spokesman for the Nonaligned Movement.  Refusing to take sides in the Cold War, he attempted to serve as an intermediary between East and West, and was judiciously fair in his dealings with other countries; for example, Burma was one of the first nations to recognize both Israel and Communist China.  In the countries that were divided by the Cold War – Germany, Korea and Vietnam — he refused to send diplomats to either side.  U Nu’s greatest diplomatic triumph was good relations with China; in 1960 he signed a treaty of friendship with the Chinese premier, Zhou Enlai, and settled a border dispute that had bothered both countries for much of the 1950s.  Another statesman who made Burma look good was one of U Nu’s advisors, U Thant; first he was the Burmese ambassador to the United Nations, and then he became the third UN secretary general, serving from 1961 to 1971.

On domestic issues, however, U Nu was only a mediocre leader.  The economy never recovered to its pre-World War II levels, and just as the civil unrest was dying down, the economy began to fail.  Thus, he had to postpone indefinitely his plans to make Burma the first welfare state in Asia.  In 1954 he proposed a constitutional amendment making Buddhism the state religion, a move that offended the country’s Christian and Moslem minorities.  Now he learned how hard it can be to please everybody.  To placate the non-Buddhists, he offered equal time for the teaching of all three religions, Buddhism, Christianity, and Islam, in the schools.  That caused so much trouble from the monks that he banned all religious instruction, a move that caused more demonstrations all over the country.  He was forced to capitulate and allow only Buddhist instruction; one observer commented that he became a victim of the very sentiments that, as a patron of Buddhism, he had fostered.

1956 saw new elections, which the AFPFL won.  However, the leftists formed a coalition called the National United Front, or NUF, which was led by Aung Than, the older brother of Aung San; they won 37% of the vote and 48 of the 250 seats in the Chamber of Deputies.  Remember what I said about Aung San being the only popular Burmese politician?  Now that popularity rubbed off on his family.  That is why Aung San’s daughter, Aung San Suu Kyi, has gotten so much attention in recent years.

In 1958 the AFPFL split into two factions, known as the "Clean" AFPFL and "stable" AFPFL.  U Nu led the “Clean” faction, while two other politicians, Kyaw Nyein and Ba Swe, led the “Stable” AFPFL.  Because the “Stable” AFPFL was the larger faction, they tried to force U Nu out of office with a no-confidence vote.  U Nu narrowly escaped defeat by a margin of eight votes, because the leftist NUF supported him.  Meanwhile, one of the minority tribes, the Shans, was threatening to secede, now that the ten-year waiting period they had promised Aung San was over, and the states containing ethnic minorites had not received the autonomy promised to them.

Faced with losing control over the country, U Nu turned to General Ne Win for help, in October 1958.  Ne Win was sworn in as prime minister, and for the next 15 months he led a caretaker government that put Burma’s house back in order.  At the time, this was a popular decision, because Ne Win did not have the democratic responsibilities that he would have been saddled with, had he been a civilian, so he was able to make dramatic improvements to the country’s internal stability.  Then in February 1960 another election was held, which U Nu’s faction won easily, and Ne Win returned the government to civilian rule.  Remarking on his victory, U Nu said, quote, "I guess people like us."  Unquote.

*****

Once U Nu was back, however, the old problems came back with a vengeance.  Having had his taste for power satisfied once, Ne Win did not wait for permission to take over for a second time.  On March 2, 1962 he staged a coup, arrested most of the civilian politicians, scrapped the constitution, dismissed Parliament, and began ruling by decree.  U Nu was taken to an army camp outside of Rangoon, where he was kept for the next four years; the country’s new leaders euphemistically called this “protective custody.”  A 17-member Revolutionary Council was established, and the disorderly AFPFL was replaced by the Burmese Socialist Program Party, the BSPP, which now became the only legal political party in the land.  And that wasn’t all; the All Burma Student’s Union, an organization uniting all student groups in the country, was banned, the press was muzzled, and the country was closed off to the rest of the world.  In this way Burma’s long rule under the military began.  It’s not completely over, even today.  Officially the country is no longer ruled by a junta, but the armed forces still play a part; according to the current constitution, 25% of the seats in the legislature are appointed by the military and the rest of the members are elected.

Podcast footnote: I believe I referred to Ne Win as Thakin Ne Win, when I introduced him as a Burmese student and nationalist in the 1930s.  In doing the research for this episode, I found that was inaccurate.  Ne Win was born under a different name, Shu Maung, so the name he really used in college was Thakin Shu Maung.  Also, his date of birth is uncertain; my sources give it as July 10, 1910, May 14, 1911, or May 24, 1911.  Wikipedia considers the 1910 date the most likely; it came from a biography written by Kyaw Nyein.  For the biography, Kyaw Nyein interviewed surviving members of the Thirty Comrades, the thirty Burmese nationalists who got military training from the Japanese, so they could lead a pro-Japanese army, after Japan invaded Burma in 1942.  Each of the Comrades took a nom de guerre, and the name Shu Maung chose for himself was Bo Ne Win, meaning “Commander Bright Sun.”  After the war, like Vietnam’s Ho Chi Minh, he stuck with the nom de guerre for the rest of his life, so I will keep calling him Ne Win for the rest of the time he is in the podcast.  End footnote.

Under the Burma Socialist Program Party, Burma experienced one-man misrule.  Ne Win imposed socialism more aggressively than U Nu did, by nationalizing all land, commerce and industry.  In February 1963, the Enterprise Nationalization Law was passed, nationalizing all major industries and prohibiting the building of new factories.  In addition foreigners, especially Chinese, were prohibited from owning land, sending money abroad, getting business licenses and practicing medicine.  Rice marketing was made a government monopoly and peasants were paid less than a third of the market value for their crop.  This mass nationalization caused vast numbers of people to lose their jobs, and many everyday commodities became available only on the black market.  Nevertheless, Ne Win called what he was doing “healthy politics.”  He and his generals had little, if any, knowledge of economics, and they didn’t seem interested in learning more; they preferred driving the country to ruin, over stepping down in favor of somebody who could do a better job.  Later Ne Win would admit to journalists that his policies had been misguided but that, quote, “it was like having caught hold of a tiger’s tail… there was nothing else to do but hang on to it.”  Unquote.  To get the minds of the people off the economy, Ne Win staged rounds of persecution against ethnic Chinese in Burma, forcing at least 100,000 Chinese to leave the country.  We saw in other episodes of this podcast that the Chinese have been a convenient scapegoat for Southeast Asian leaders to blame their problems on, much like how Jews have often been treated in Europe.  Still, it’s a bit surprising that Ne Win persecuted the Chinese, because he had Chinese ancestry.

Ne Win also had a puritanical streak; he closed dance halls, prohibited beauty contests and horse races, and insisted on punctuality and industriousness.  Such behavior did not go over well with the easygoing Burmese, and that caused the economy to go from bad to worse.  Per capita income sank from $670 in 1960 to a low of $200 in 1989.  The most recent figure I could find for the per capita income put it at $6,707 as of 2019, meaning it is still well below the worldwide average; among the 200 or so nations in today’s world, this figure ranks 128th.  Most of the population have continued practicing subsistence farming to avoid starvation.  Under British rule, Burma was the world’s largest exporter of rice, but it stopped exporting rice in 1973; now it is known as the world’s second largest grower of the opium poppy, after Afghanistan.  The country is rich in farmland, teak, rubies, natural gas, even oil, but is usually classified as one of the poorest nations in the world.  Most homes are bamboo huts, and under Ne Win, the government ignored public works, resulting in a country full of crumbling buildings.  Outside of Rangoon, most of Burma did not have electricity.

Though Ne Win has been gone for many years, if you visit Burma today, you can still see the effects of him neglecting the infrastructure.  According to the 2013 World Economic Forum Global Competitiveness Report, Burma was ranked 146th out of 148 places for the quality of its infrastructure.  Today most of the roads remain unpaved, and even now, only 50% of the population has electricity, giving Burma one of the lowest electrification rates in Asia.

Podcast footnote:  Years ago I read the science fiction stories of Keith Laumer.  Before he became an author, Laumer was a US diplomat, so he wrote stories about diplomats in space.  In the 1970s, twenty years after he was stationed in Rangoon, he described the former Burmese capital this way.  Quote:  "Once the garden city of the East, now the garbage city of the East."  Unquote, and end footnote.

Before Ne Win took over, Burma had isolationist tendencies; under him they became downright xenophobia.  Few countries were harder to get into.  In the 1960s tourists were not allowed to stay in Burma for more than 24 hours, so I am guessing that the only attraction the tourists got to see was Rangoon’s great pagoda, the Shwedagon.  In the 1970s the time allowed to tourists was increased to one week, so they could visit places outside of Rangoon, like Bagan.  Burma even quit the Nonaligned Movement that it helped get started, after the 1979 meeting.  That year’s session was hosted in Havana by the Cuban leader, Fidel Castro, who can hardly be called a nonaligned head of state; understandably, the Burmese charged that the meeting was tainted by superpower politicking.  Indeed, I remember the Yugoslavian leader, Josip Broz Tito, made the same accusation, claiming that he was a better representative of Third World interests than Castro.  Ne Win locked out the modern world everywhere; under him Burma had no high-rises, nightclubs, or neon signs; even Coca-Cola was unknown.   No new cars, trucks and busses were available while Ne Win was in charge, so the Burmese became mechanical geniuses to maintain the vehicles they had.  Offices could not get computers or even typewriters, so they kept their records in dusty ledgers, like they were still in the early nineteenth century.

In March 1974, Ne Win decided it was time to reorganize the government, so he disbanded the Revolutionary Council and renamed the country the Socialist Republic of the Union of Burma.  A new office, that of president, was created, Ne Win was elected to fill it, and he vacated his previous job of prime minister so it could be filled by someone else.

*****

If all Ne Win did was oppress the people and make himself rich, we would be done talking about him now; most dictators do that, after all.  However, he was also superstitious, and he let that affect national policy. We have seen that, like the kings of ancient and medieval times, Burmese politicians consult astrologers and soothsayers – they picked the time and date for the country’s independence, remember.  But reliance on fortunetellers didn’t stop there.  The BSPP kept a Board of Astrologers — an actual government agency! — and Ne Win heeded their advice, even when it was insane.  He would cross bridges backwards to protect himself from evil spirits, and one report asserted that he bathed in dolphin’s blood, because he believed it restored youth and energy.  When the astrologers warned Ne Win of an upcoming bloodbath, and told him how to prevent it, he followed their instructions:  he stood with a pistol in front of a mirror, stomped on meat to symbolize the blood they were talking about, and then shot his reflection in the mirror, which was supposed to stop any assassination attempt.  I guess he didn’t believe the superstition about a broken mirror causing seven years of bad luck!

One day in 1970, Ne Win grew concerned that his regime was leaning too far to the left politically, meaning the government was too friendly to communists.  His soothsayers told him that was because the Burmese, like their former British masters, drove on the left side of the road.  So to compensate for that, Ne Win suddenly ordered everyone to drive on the right from now on, though their vehicles and the roads weren’t set up to handle the change in traffic.  On the day that law went into effect, Burma experienced a country-wide demolition derby.  Today, 50 years later, Burma is still having problems you don’t see in other countries that drive on the right side of the road.  Because of Burma’s long-term isolation, and because the cheapest vehicles the Burmese can get are used ones from Japan, another country that drives on the left side of the road, cars still have their steering wheels on the right side, and busses still have doors on the left side.  This means that drivers have large blind spots behind them, and passengers have to dodge traffic in the middle of the road while getting on or off a bus!

To make sure that Burma’s population would never be absorbed into one of its two big neighbors, India and China, Ne Win outlawed all forms of birth control.  In case you’re curious how that worked out, the Indians and Chinese outnumbered the Burmese by nearly 47 to 1, and Burmese mothers have never been able to catch up.

There weren’t many things the Ne Win regime did well, but putting down dissent was one of them.  One source of dissent was a statesman we mentioned already, U Thant.  After U Thant retired from being the UN secretary general, he stayed in New York City, because he did not get along with Ne Win, and there he died of lung cancer in 1974.  His body was flown to Rangoon, as you might expect, but the only official who came to the airport to receive it was U Aung Tun, the deputy minister of education.  In fact, the deputy minister was subsequently fired for doing that job.  On the day of the burial, tens of thousands of people lined the streets to pay their respects as the coffin passed, but the government did not give U Thant a state funeral, and it tried to bury him in an ordinary cemetery.  Before that could happen, a group of students stole the coffin, buried it on the former grounds of the Rangoon University Students Union (a building Ne Win had dynamited in 1962), and they built a temporary mausoleum over the grave.  Then the students gave anti-government speeches, until government troops stormed the campus, killed some of the students, removed U Thant’s coffin, and reburied it in a mausoleum near the Shwedagon Pagoda.  Since this was an appropriate resting place for the secretary general, he has remained there to this day.  Meanwhile, riots broke out on the streets of Rangoon, leading to a declaration of martial law over the city.  When it was all over, the end result was that the government put down the U Thant funeral crisis so forcefully, that scarcely a murmur of dissent was heard again, until the late 1980s.  Ne Win was less successful in dealing with the various rebels on the periphery of the state – mostly Karen tribesmen, communists and opium warlords – but since they were too weak to threaten Rangoon, the interior of the country enjoyed peace.

*****

In 1981 Ne Win, now 70 or 71 years old, stepped down as president, and was succeeded by a like-minded general, San Yu.  However, he retained most of his power by staying on as party chief, and in September 1987 he singlehandedly ruined the economy with one more trick.  The astrologers he trusted told him that nine was his lucky number, so he issued new denominations of the Burmese monetary unit, the kyat, in 45 and 90-kyat bills, because those numbers are divisible by nine, and he declared four other denominations (25, 35, 75 and 100-kyat notes) non-legal tender.  Ne Win believed this move would let him live to be more than 90 years old, but because he did not allow the exchange of old currency for new currency, most of Burma’s cash instantly became worthless.  As you might expect, this enraged the whole country, and riots broke out in Rangoon and Mandalay.  Students were the most upset of all, because their savings, which they intended to use to pay for tuition, had just been wiped out.  Though the government restored order, and the Burmese media said little about the unrest, the protesters remained angry, and kept each other informed by word of mouth.  At the end of the year, the United Nations added Burma to its list of “Least Developed Countries.”

More protests occurred, after 1987 became 1988.  The first one began at a tea shop, on March 12, 1988.  Here students from the Rangoon Institute of Technology argued with some other young people over the music playing on the sound system in the shop, got into a brawl, and one student was injured.  The next day, students protested this incident at a local police department, because the student had been injured by the son of a BSPP official, and in the clash that followed, one student was killed.  Then on March 16, another string of demonstrations began at Inya Lake, the largest lake in Rangoon; when riot police attacked the students here, dozens died and hundreds were arrested.  The government tried to stop this trend by closing all schools, including the universities, but when the schools reopened in June, more demonstrations and more crackdowns took place.

Eventually Ne Win decided the game was up for him, so on July 23, 1988, he resigned as head of the BSPP, appointed police chief Sein Lwin as his successor, and legalized political parties.  But Sein Lwin was a despised general; he was known as the “Butcher of Rangoon,” for commanding an army unit that massacred 130 Rangoon University students in July 1962.  True to character, the general declared martial law.  Meanwhile, in his outgoing address, Ne Win warned the protestors, quote, “When the army shoots, it shoots to kill.”  Unquote.

*****

Led by the students, the Burmese people made plans to stage a massive general strike.  August 8, 1988 was chosen as the most auspicious day for the strike to begin, because that date had four number 8s in it, so today we call it the “Four 8s Uprising,” or “8888 Uprising.”  Each day after that saw hundreds of thousands across the country taking part in demonstrations.  Soldiers in remote parts of the country were called to Rangoon; they and the police shot at protesters, killing a few, but they did so halfheartedly.  In response, the protesters threw rocks and Molotov cocktails, and raided police stations for firearms.  On August 10, soldiers chased protesters into Rangoon General Hospital and then began shooting the doctors and nurses who were treating the wounded.

Not knowing what to do, Sein Lwin resigned on August 12.  He had only been president for 17 days.  The protesters were jubilant, but unsure about their next move.  In the end they demanded that Dr. Maung Maung, the only civilian who held a senior position in the government, be appointed as the next president, and this was done on August 19.  However, the demonstrations continued; one demonstration in Mandalay on August 22 saw 100,000 people participate.

It is at this point that Aung San Suu Kyi, someone you probably have heard of already, enters the story.  I mentioned earlier that she is the daughter of Aung San, Burma’s independence hero, but for the first 43 years of her life she stayed out of politics, living abroad with a British husband and two sons.  Around the time of Ne Win’s resignation, Aung San Suu Kyi returned to Burma to take care of her ailing mother, and she was persuaded to make a speech to the protesters.  She did so on August 24, during a rally at Rangoon General Hospital.  Because she made a good impression, she spoke again on August 26 at the Shwedagon Pagoda, in front of a crowd that numbered at least half a million people.  Here she called for both democracy and a non-violent solution to the conflict.  I was able to find one quote from the speech, and here it is.  Quote:

“The entire nation’s desires and aspirations are very clear.  There can be no doubt that everybody wants a multi-party democratic system of government.  It is the duty of the present government to bring about such a system as soon as possible.”

End quote.

With that speech, Aung San Suu Kyi immediately became the leader of the democracy movement.  Former prime minister U Nu joined the demonstrations as well.  An American congressman, Stephen Solarz of New York, was also there.  Solarz had been in the Philippines during the 1986 People Power Revolution (don’t worry, I will cover that in a future episode), and his presence in Burma was taken to mean the US government was giving its blessing to the democracy movement.  More demonstrations took place in September, with violence escalating from both sides.  In Rangoon, much of the city government collapsed and the local administration was taken over by ordinary people.

Burma’s attempt to set up democracy abruptly ended on September 18, 1988, when the commander of the army, General Saw Maung, seized power, and announced that a 19-member group, the State Law and Order Restoration Committee, or SLORC, would replace the BSPP.  Violent crackdowns to break up the demonstrations began across the country the next day.  By the beginning of October, the protest movement had collapsed, and Burma was back under martial law, the way it had been for the past 26 years.  To keep the students from organizing further protests, the military junta closed the universities again; this time they stayed closed until the year 2000.

The government reported that 350 protesters had been killed when it restored order, but this seems like an absurdly low number.  We can’t get an exact number of many were killed, because many of the bodies were cremated, but estimates of the dead usually range from 3,000 to 10,000.  In other words, there were more deaths in the 1988 Burma demonstrations, than there were at the more famous Tiananmen Square crackdown in China during the following year.  Aung San Suu Kyi was placed under house arrest, and more people were imprisoned or simply “disappeared.”  Thousands escaped arrest by fleeing the country, and thousands more fled to the mountains, where they joined the ethnic armies locked in long-running revolts against the Burmese army.  Finally, on the border of Thailand, a group of students formed a rebel army of their own, called the All Burma Students Democratic Front, to continue the struggle alongside the other rebel armies.

<Interlude>

*****

We’re going to have to end today’s narrative on a grim note, because we have run out of time.  Don’t worry, things in Burma will get better before the story of Southeast Asia is over.  And with Aung San Suu Kyi, this isn’t the end of her story; it’s really just the beginning.

Even so, we have some other places in Southeast Asia to visit first, before we continue with Burma/Myanmar.  I think the next episode’s stop will be western New Guinea.  That was the last colony the Dutch had in this part of the world, and in Episode 97 I told you how Indonesia acquired it.  However, Indonesia’s rule over the western half of that huge island has not been a happy experience for the local residents, and at some point I should tell that story, so this is as good a time as any to do it.  And then we will go back to the countries in the region for another round, covering even more recent history than we did last time!

This podcast is entirely listener-supported; there are no commercials interrupting the narrative.  Did you hear any commercials?  Nope.  Therefore, if you enjoyed this episode and can afford to support the podcast, consider making a donation through Paypal.  Just click on the gold button that says “Donate!”, on the Blubrry.com page where you got this episode.  That’s for one-time donations.  Now if you would rather give a small amount, say, $1 to $10 each month, this podcast has a Patreon page, too, and there is a link to it on the Blubrry page as well.

And that’s not all you can do to support the podcast.  If you get your podcasts from a podcatcher that allows reviews, by all means write a review.  On Facebook, there is the History of Southeast Asia Podcast page; “like” it if you haven’t already.  Besides announcing new episodes, I use it to share content that has to do with Southeast Asia; for example, I posted a link to a news story about the election that took place in Myanmar while I was recording this episode.  Finally, tell anyone you know who may like the show:  friends, family, acquaintances, co-workers, whomever.  As I have said before, thank you for listening, and come back when the monsoon winds are blowing right!

<Outro>

Episode 100: The Philippines, A Dictatorship Made For Two

 

Turn your clock back an hour (if you are in a place that does that), and tune in to the podcast!  After four years and four months, here is the podcast’s 100th episode!  Today we go to the Philippines, to look at those islands from 1957 to 1981, a period that includes the first part of the Marcos dictatorship.  And then listen in to hear how I will celebrate, because completing 100 episodes is a big deal for any podcast.

https://blubrry.com/hoseasia/69729908/episode-100-the-philippines-a-dictatorship-made-for-two/

 

(Transcript)

This episode is dedicated to Sebastian R. and Louis C., for the donations they made to the podcast.  Louis, you donated twice before, and of course it’s good to hear from you again.  I hope both of you are especially glad to be mentioned on the 100th show!  In a few days, this crazy election should be over in the United States, and then a few weeks after that, this crazy year will be over, too.  May both of you remain healthy, wealthy and wise, as this fall becomes winter, and winter becomes spring.  And now let’s go to the show everyone has been waiting for.  Are we ready with the music?  Of course we are!

Episode 100:  The Philippines, a Dictatorship Made For Two

Mabuhay, dear listeners!  If you’re new to this podcast, that means “Greetings” in Tagalog, the most widely used language in the Philippines.  Well, after four years, we made it; this is the big 100, the centennial episode!

<Applause>

I have commented before that it’s a big deal when a podcast makes it to one hundred episodes.  It shows real commitment, of time, labor, and if you’re not uploading your recordings to a free host like Soundcloud, you are committing some money.  For example, if you record one podcast episode a week, and do not take any time off, it will take you nearly two years to get to 100; how many things are you still interested in doing, after two years have gone by?  With this podcast, it took four years and four months, from the summer of 2016 to the fall of 2020.  Yes, I will be doing something  special to commemorate this event, but I am saving it for later in this episode, after we get done with today’s historical content.

Now what kind of commitment have I given, besides four years and four months of time?  I ran the available numbers, and here are the results.  From Episode 0, the introduction, to Episode 99, the latest episode before this one, I wrote scripts totaling 915 pages.  On those scripts are 525,137 words – more than half a million!  And the combined length of all the recordings, up to Episode 99, is 74 hours, 45 minutes, and 46 seconds.  That’s more than three days nonstop.  Now I know some people listen to podcasts to get through times at work when there is nothing happening, when they have to stay in a “hurry up and wait” mode; heck, I’ve done it myself.  To all of you, I want to thank you for putting up with me for that long, and I am thankful I didn’t bore you silly.  Oh, what am I saying?  If you got bored, you wouldn’t be listening now!  All right, what does the podcast have for today?

If you have listened to the other recent episodes in this podcast, you know that currently we are covering the recent history of Southeast Asia, since the 1950s.  Episode 97 was about Indonesia in the 1950s and 1960s.  Then we did the same thing for Malaysia and Singapore with Episode 98.  Thailand had its turn in Episode 99, where we covered that country as far as 1976.  Now it is time to cover my wife’s homeland, the Philippines.  Today I plan to go from 1957 to the beginning of the 1980s.  The main event in the Philippines during this period was the Marcos dictatorship, in which Imelda Marcos played a role as important as her husband Ferdinand did; that is what inspired this episode’s title, “A Dictatorship Made for Two.”  In fact, the HBO network produced a documentary on Imelda last year, called “The Kingmaker.”  Ferdinand and Imelda ran the country for twenty years and two months, all the way to 1986.  Therefore you will have to wait until another episode to find out how the dictatorship ended.  Now if you’re ready, sit back and enjoy the ride!

<roller coaster sound effect>

We last talked at length about the Philippines in Episode 62.  For those who did not listen to Episode 62, here is a recap.  That episode covered the islands in the aftermath of World War II.  On July 4, 1946, less than a year after the war ended, the United States granted independence, after ruling the Philippines for nearly half a century.  But you could describe it as a state of “dependent independence.”  Because the Philippines did not recover from the war before independence came, the Filipinos were heavily dependent on a foreign power to help them, and the Americans were happy to give a hand.  That aid, however, came with strings attached.  Financial aid, for a start, often came in the form of high-interest loans, which of course were difficult to pay down.  The United States was the new nation’s largest trading partner, and the terms of that trade were highly favorable to the Americans.  The Philippines also supported US foreign policy, which in those days was preoccupied with fighting communism wherever it appeared.  For that reason, the United States maintained its military bases in the Philippines, with the benefits of providing more than $100 million in rents every year, and thousands of jobs for Filipinos.  The two most important bases were Clark Air Force Base, and Subic Bay, the largest US Navy base that wasn’t in US territory; both of them were located north of Manila.  We saw in the episodes on the Second Indochina War that American troops, ships and aircraft stopped at these bases, on their way to and from Vietnam.

We also saw in Episode 62 that the Philippines had its own communist uprising, the Hukbalahap Rebellion.  At first the Philippine government could not put down the rebellion, but in 1953 they got a new president, Ramon Magsaysay.  One of the reasons why Magsaysay was elected was because he was the most pro-American candidate; he was discovered by an agent from the US Central Intelligence Agency, Edward Lansdale, and promoted by him.  Magsaysay proved to be a superb leader; he knew most of the rebels were not doctrinaire communists but landless peasants, and thus he got them to lay down their arms by offering them land.  Tragically, he was killed in a plane crash, leaving his work unfinished.  Now the Americans, especially the CIA, wanted another president like him.  And that is where Episode 62 ended.

For eight years after Magsaysay, 1957 to 1965, the Philippines muddled through the rule of two mediocre presidents, Carlos Garcia and Diosdado Macapagal.  Both of them did little to solve the country’s problems, both were uncharismatic, and both ran corrupt administrations, inspiring little hope for the future.

Unlike most of his predecessors, who came from Luzon, the largest island, Carlos Garcia was born on Bohol, one of the central islands.  He served as Magsaysay’s vice president and secretary of foreign affairs; he also was chairman of the Southeast Asian Security Conference, held in Manila in September 1954, which led to the creation of SEATO, the Southeast Asia Treaty Organization.  With Magsaysay’s death, Garcia moved into the Number One spot.  Later in the same year, Garcia won the next presidential election, allowing him to enjoy his own four-year term in office, from 1957 to 1961.

Garcia persuaded the legislature to outlaw the Communist Party of the Philippines, something his predecessors never got around to doing.  However, the chief problems of his administration were the economy and the previously mentioned corruption.  Therefore he launched the Filipino First Policy, which was intended to make the Philippine economy less dependent on foreign nations, especially the United States.  The main feature of this was an austerity program that reduced imports and increased domestic food production.  His administration also passed the Bohlen–Serrano Agreement, which shortened the lease of the American military bases from 99 years to 25 years, and made the renewal of the lease come up every five years.  So if you are wondering why the Americans had to abandon Clark Air Base and Subic Bay in the early 1990s, you can thank the Bohlen-Serrano Agreement for that.  Finally, Garcia played a part in reviving Filipino cultural arts.  Despite these achievements, he couldn’t do anything about the corruption, and even encouraged it.  For example, when Japan offered to pay for war damages by giving the Philippines nearly $300 million worth of ships and industrial machinery, Garcia promised the equipment to his followers even before the agreement was signed.  That is why he didn’t win, when he ran for re-election in 1961.  His vice president, Diosdado Macapagal, ran against him and won the race.

Podcast footnote: One of the most remembered episodes of the Cold War came in 1960, when Soviet leader Nikita Khrushchev visited the United Nations headquarters in New York.  Here he met the new leader of Cuba, Fidel Castro, for the first time, and they immediately became BFFs – Best Friends Forever.  Then when the chief Filipino delegate to the UN, Lorenzo Sumulong, made a speech about the oppressed peoples of Eastern Europe, Khrushchev got so mad that he took off his shoe and banged it on a desk, while giving his response to Sumulong!  Apparently Khrushchev did all the shoe-banging while sitting at a delegate’s desk.  The famous picture of him holding a shoe above the General Assembly podium is a fake; the original, unaltered photo showed him raising his fist.  End footnote.

Unlike most Filipino politicians, Diosdado Macapagal came from a poor peasant family.  Thus, his nickname was “the Poor Boy from Lubao,” referring to his home town.  His father had scraped to send him to high school, college and law school, but he had to drop out after two years, due to poor health and the money running out, so he became an actor.  Then a wealthy brother-in-law financed his return to law school, and he excelled.  All this happened in the 1930s, when the Philippines were under US rule, and he was invited to join an American law firm, a great honor for a Filipino at that time.  Instead, he became a legal secretary, first to President Manuel Quezon, and then after the Japanese took over, to President Jose Laurel.  After the war ended and independence came, he joined the foreign service.  For one of his first assignments, in 1948, he led the Philippine team in negotiations for the transfer of the Turtle Islands, from British to Philippine rule; we talked about that transfer in Episode 98.  In 1949 he was called home so that he could run for a legislative seat representing Pampanga, his home province.  He won easily, and in 1957 he was chosen to be Carlos Garcia’s vice presidential candidate, because his poor but honest background looked good; by contrast, Garcia was a sugar baron.

While Macapagal was vice president, Garcia treated him like he didn’t belong in the government, banishing him to a run-down office and giving him a beat-up car that kept breaking down.  Therefore Macapagal dressed simply and made himself look frugal and puritanical, in contrast to the president.  When he ran for president in 1961, he gave himself a slogan that would have worked for any politician campaigning as a populist:  “Honest Mac, the poor man’s best friend.”

Macapagal was president from 1961 to 1965.  When his term began, he declared “a new era for the common man,” which was modeled after the New Deal of US President Franklin Delano Roosevelt.  He even used FDR’s campaign song, “Happy Days are Here Again” as his own theme song.  To show he was serious about cleaning up the government, he banned his family from engaging in business, put the presidential yacht up for sale, and introduced a series of plans, starting with land reform.  These failed to do the job; politicians remained corrupt and their supporters demanded privileges.  In Manila, gangs protected by politicians were able to smuggle in everything from automobiles to air conditioners to textiles to cigarettes.  Once a group of thieves disguised themselves as firemen, walked onto Clark Air Base, and stole a fire engine, with the US military police saluting them as they drove it through the gate.  The crime rate increased as well.  Manila suffered 800 homicides in 1964, while New York City, a community six times larger, suffered less than 600 in the same year.

Macapagal tried to distract the public by playing on nationalist sentiments.  First he picked on an old scapegoat, the Chinese, expelling several of them, even if they were naturalized citizens.  Then he deported an American businessman, Harry Stonehill, who had made a $50 million fortune in the Philippines from real estate, tobacco and other businesses.  Supposedly he did it with help from Filipino politicians, including members of Macapagal’s cabinet.  To everyone’s relief, Stonehill took his secrets with him.  Ultimately, Macapagal failed to solve the country’s social and economic problems because his initiatives were hindered by a Congress controlled by the rival Nationalist Party.

Podcast footnote: Originally, the Philippine Independence Day was celebrated on July 4, the day when the Americans granted independence.  However, as you know if you are an American, the 4th of July is also the American Independence Day; the Americans wanted the Filipinos to celebrate on the same day as they did.  Macapagal changed the date to June 12, because Filipino revolutionaries had declared independence from Spain on June 12, 1898.  The 4th of July is still a holiday, though; now it is called Philippine-American Friendship Day.  Who wants to cancel an excuse to have a good time?  End footnote.

During this time the Philippine government functioned as a noisy version of the US government it was patterned after. The Manila press reeked of sensationalism, and politicians could be very vocal when expressing their opinions.  I will read you a quote from Stanley Karnow, a former TIME-LIFE correspondent for Southeast Asia; he reported an example of a clash between politicians on his first assignment to the Philippines, in 1959.  This is a lengthy quote, and it comes from Karnow’s book on Philippine history, In Our Image.  Quote:

<Read Karnow quote>

End quote.

Every trick in the book was used at election time, like using "gold, guns and goons" to influence the voters, ballot box stuffing, and adding names from tombstones to lists of people who voted.  Control of the government changed hands between the Liberal and Nationalist Parties with every election, but since both parties derived their support from the landowning upper class, there was hardly a difference between them.  In effect, both parties were political clubs for the elite of Philippine society.  Neither party had an ideology, and personalities mattered more than issues.  To give one example, a Liberal named Ferdinand Marcos supported Macapagal in the early 1960s, but as the 1965 election approached, they stopped being friends, and Marcos switched to the Nationalist Party.  Without hesitation, the Nationalists nominated Marcos as their presidential candidate, and he beat Macapagal to become the sixth president since independence.  All things considered, the best thing about the presidents who served before 1965 is that only one of them, Manuel Quezon, was elected more than once.

Today Macapagal is not remembered so much for his legacy, but for his two daughters, who also entered politics.  Gloria Macapagal-Arroyo was a senator, and eventually became the first Philippine president of the twenty-first century; of course we will mention her again in a future episode of this podcast.  The other daughter, Cielo Macapagal-Salgado, twice served as vice-governor of Pampanga, the family’s home province, from 1989 to 1992 and from 1995 to 1998.

*****

Okay, since we mentioned Ferdinand Marcos a minute ago, it’s time to introduce him, because for the rest of this episode, and maybe the next episode about the Philippines, he will be the most important character.  Ferdinand Emmanuel Edralin Marcos Sr. was born in 1917 in Ilocos Norte, the northernmost province on the island of Luzon.  The son of a school supervisor, he went to law school as soon as he grew up, and here he scored so high on the exams that he was accused of cheating, until he refuted the charge by reciting the legal texts he knew by heart.

Marcos first gained national attention in 1938 when he and three other men were accused of murdering a political rival of his father.  He was convicted and sentenced to seventeen years in prison, but acting as his own lawyer, Marcos won his release by delivering an emotional address, arguing to be released on bail, so that he could finish law school and prepare an appeal to the Supreme Court.  Marcos wore a white sharkskin suit and white shoes on that day, to symbolize his purity, and in his address, Marcos quoted William Shakespeare, Herman Melville and Henry James; instead of pleading his innocence, he declared that the verdict was technically flawed.  The judge, moved to tears, felt that the country needed more bright young men like him, and granted his request.  At the same time, Marcos gained the admiration of everyone who heard what he did, not only for his defense, but also because he had defended the honor of his father, something that is always important in Asian societies.  By the way, the judge in that case was Jose Laurel, the future pro-Japanese president during World War II.  More than three decades later, when Marcos declared martial law, he would return the favor by not touching the property of the Laurel family, while confiscating the assets of other rich families.  He did not even bother the son of Jose Laurel, Salvador Laurel, when the younger Laurel turned against him, and ran for vice president in 1986.

When World War II came to the Philippines, Marcos was activated to serve in the US armed forces as a 3rd lieutenant.  He took part in the siege of Bataan, was captured by the Japanese, and survived the infamous Bataan Death March, which we covered in Episode 41.  But then he was released from a Japanese prison camp four months later, in August 1942.  The only explanation for why the Japanese let him go comes from some papers published by The Washington Post in 1986, which suggested that it happened because his father, who by now had been a congressman and provincial governor, had "cooperated with the Japanese military authorities."

No one knows for sure what Marcos did during the next two years.  Later he claimed he was the war’s greatest hero, leading a force of 8,000 guerrillas called Ang Mga Mahárlika, which is Tagalog for “The Freemen.”  US Army investigators have found no records from the war years mentioning Marcos or the guerrilla unit, and thus declared that the story is completely false, but Marcos told it so many times that he came to believe it himself.  Marcos also claimed he received 33 medals and other decorations, but the US Army only admitted to giving him two.  In December 1944, after the Americans returned to the Philippines, Marcos was able to rejoin the US Army, and he reached the rank of major by the end of the war.

Podcast footnote: In 1978, a senator named Eddie Ilarde proposed renaming the Philippines Maharlika, to get rid of a piece of the country’s colonial past.  We noted all the way back in Episode 14 that the name “Philippines” comes from King Philip II of Spain.  Of course Marcos liked the idea, and promoted it, leading a Philippine newspaper to ask its readers this question: “Would you like to be called a Maharloko?”  The current president, Rodrigo Duterte, believes the Marcos war story – he would – and he brought the issue up again in February 2019, when he said he would like to see the islands renamed Maharlika.  However, the name change would require amending the constitution and overhauling the government offices, businesses and documents that use the Philippines as the country’s official name, and most present-day Filipinos are against the name change, so don’t expect it to happen any time soon.  End footnote.

From 1946 to 1947, Marcos served as a special assistant to President Manuel Roxas, and thus got started in politics as a member of the party Roxas founded, the Liberal Party.  In 1949, at the age of 32, Marcos became the youngest member of the legislature by appealing to the provincial pride of the voters.  Quote:  "Elect me now and I promise you an Ilocano president in twenty years."  Unquote.  In 1954 he married a former beauty queen, Imelda Romualdez, and on the day he was sworn in as president, she got more attention than he did.  Together Ferdinand and Imelda made an attractive couple; they were often compared with John and Jackie Kennedy.

When the 1965 election arrived, Marcos won by a margin of 600,000 votes, out of eight million cast.  An estimated 5 percent of those ballots were rigged, and fifty people died in election-related violence, making this a quiet election by Philippine standards.  When Marcos was sworn in on December 30, 1965, the guests included the vice-president of the United States, Hubert Humphrey, showing that the US government approved of the new president.

*****

President Marcos promised economic development, improved infrastructure, and good government to the people of the Philippines.  Thus, his first term in office saw a number of public works projects, like the construction of new highways, a bridge between the islands of Samar and Leyte, and hundreds of new school buildings.  For Manila, he arranged for the construction of the Cultural Center of the Philippines, by appointing a six-member board which promptly elected first lady Imelda Marcos as its chairperson.  However, in a sign of things to come, the cost of building the Cultural Center bloomed dramatically, from 15 million pesos in 1966, to 48 million pesos by December 1968.  Imelda had to seek $7 million from the United States in order to finish the project before the 1969 election.  Finally, Marcos pledged military help to South Vietnam and the United States, sending 10,450 Filipino soldiers to fight in the Second Indochina War.

The 1960s was the time of the Green Revolution, a worldwide movement that combined the latest technology with newly developed plants to vastly increase agricultural production.  Along that line, in the Philippines, the International Rice Research Institute, or IRRI, had been founded in 1960, to reduce poverty and hunger, and to make sure that rice cultivation remained environmentally sustainable.  Over the course of the 1960s and 1970s, it introduced several new varieties of rice.  The most successful variety, introduced in 1966, was IR8; it required fertilizers and pesticides to grow, but produced much larger yields than older varieties.  IR8 allowed the Philippines to double rice production under the Marcos presidency, and for the first time, the Philippines became a rice exporting nation.

Marcos had promised to rid the country of crooked politicians, but eventually he would outdo them all.  He got rid of the old political parties and introduced in their place a party he controlled completely, the New Society Movement.  Likewise the old oligarchy of upper class families was swept away, to be replaced by an oligarchy of families that were friendly to him.  Imelda became governor of Metro Manila, Minister of Human Settlements, and chairperson of 23 other agencies and corporations; this gave her an unflattering nickname, the "Iron Butterfly."

<Play Iron Butterfly clip>

No, her nickname had nothing to do with that band!  Imelda’s brother Benjamin Romualdez first became governor of Leyte (his family’s home island), then ambassador to China, and finally ambassador to the United States.  The president’s sister, and later his son, were governors of Ilocos Norte.  His daughter joined the legislature.  His brother Pacifico led the Medicare Commission and 20 different private companies.  A third cousin, Fabian Ver, was named Chief of Staff of the armed forces.  Other friends and relatives were placed in charge of key industries, like coconuts and sugar.  Whoever got those jobs returned the favor with enormous kickbacks.

The Filipinos began to suspect that something was not right when Marcos won reelection in 1969.  Twelve candidates ran for president that year, but most of them failed to get more than a few hundred votes.  The only one who gave Marcos a serious challenge was Sergio Osmena, Jr., the son of the former president by the same name; nevertheless, Marcos managed to win with 61% of the votes counted.  Now the constitution only allowed a president to have two four-year terms in office, so during his second term, Marcos looked for ways to change that, so he could rule indefinitely.

From 1969 onward, the economy did not perform as well as it did previously.  Part of this was because of the building projects from the first term of Marcos; like the Cultural Center, they required huge foreign loans, and this led to a balance of payments crisis in 1969 and 1970.  In fact, students began protesting the Marcos presidency in February 1970, only two months after the second term began.  For one of the first demonstrations, a group of students drove a fire engine into a wall of the presidential palace.  Inflation reached a rate of 18% a year, while volcanic eruptions and earthquakes disrupted the lives of many.

As the economic misery of the people got worse, it was translated into political unrest.  As early as 1968, a group of disgruntled students and former Huk guerrillas got together to form another communist movement, the New People’s Army (NPA for short).  Unlike the Huks, who concentrated themselves in one area, the NPA spread its members out to every province of the country.  They murdered and plundered freely, but were a more disciplined force than the police or the army, and they won followers by dispensing a rough form of justice against unpopular local officials, unfaithful husbands, and anyone else the common people disliked.  In 1972 a Moslem guerrilla movement, the Moro National Liberation Front, or MNLF, launched a campaign in the south to create an independent state for Philippine Moslems, named Bangsa Moro.  And the anti-government demonstrations turned violent, with bombs and grenades thrown at politicians.

By 1972 Manila seemed to be slipping into anarchy.  In September, unidentified gunmen ambushed an empty car that was supposed to be carrying the defense minister, Juan Ponce Enrile.  Years later Enrile admitted that he staged the incident to get a reaction from Marcos.  Sure enough, it played into the president’s hands perfectly.  Marcos blamed the current wave of violence on the communists and on September 21, 1972, he imposed martial law on the country.  He closed down newspapers, radio and television stations, censored those that remained in operation, seized control of the airline and public utilities, placed a nighttime curfew on Manila, and jailed six thousand political rivals, journalists, professors and students, branding them communists or communist sympathizers.

I have a sound clip from the speech Marcos gave, following his declaration of martial law.  It comes from a podcast called “Long Distance,” which tells the stories of Filipinos living abroad.  Here is how he described what he was doing.

<Play Marcos clip>

The most vocal critic of the Marcos presidency was Senator Benigno Aquino, Jr, also known by the nickname of “Ninoy.”  We met Aquino in episode 62, when he was a young news reporter, just getting started in politics.  Nevertheless, he came from one of the powerful old families that Marcos was trying to uproot.  His grandfather was a general under Emilio Aguinaldo, at the beginning of the twentieth century; his father, also named Benigno Aquino, had been a senior member of the government, under Manuel Quezon and Jose Laurel.  He really got under the president’s skin in 1969, when in one of his speeches, he called the Cultural Center "A Pantheon for Imelda" and "a monument to shame," while describing Imelda as "a megalomaniac, with a penchant to captivate."  It is now believed that had the 1973 elections taken place, Ninoy Aquino would have become the next president.  Instead, he was one of the first arrested when martial law was declared.  Most of the others arrested were eventually released, but Aquino, whose only crime was running ahead of Marcos in public opinion polls, languished in prison for seven and a half years.  Now able to get what he wanted, Marcos introduced a new constitution in 1973 that allowed him to rule for life, with unlimited powers during emergency situations like this one.

Podcast footnote: This is for you sports fans in the audience.  During the martial law period, in 1975, the Philippines hosted one of the most famous boxing matches of all time, “The Thrilla in Manila” between Muhammad Ali and Smokin’ Joe Frazier.  End footnote.

There is something of a tradition in Asia that gives approval to heads of state that take away freedom and give an improved standard of living in return.  The twentieth century saw benevolent dictators like that in Turkey, Thailand, Taiwan, Singapore and South Korea.  For this reason, most Filipinos in 1972 thought that martial law was the proper solution to the country’s problems, and even Aquino admitted that he might introduce some kind of authoritarian regime if he became president.  If Ferdinand Marcos behaved in the above manner, he might have gone down in history as a good leader.  But instead he and Imelda used their new powers to live extravagantly, impoverishing the Philippines in the process.  The government got nothing done without huge bribes being paid, either to the president or someone else in the inner circle.  He amassed a hidden fortune in gold, real estate, and Swiss bank accounts, estimated to be worth billions–all the time receiving only $5,600 per year as an official salary.  Imelda gave lavish parties that looked like something out of a Cecil B. DeMille movie, and went on megabuck shopping sprees whenever she traveled abroad.  One of my sources reported that in Geneva, Switzerland, Imelda spent $12 million on jewelry in just one day, and I have heard that when she entered an American department store, employees would close the store, to keep all other customers out until she was done shopping in there.  The rest of the country had to pay the bill for this, and the economy took a nosedive; from 1983 to 1985 the gross domestic product dropped a rate of -5% a year.

For an example of the corruption and waste of the Marcos era, you only have to look as far as the Bataan Nuclear Power Plant.  This is the only nuclear facility in the country, and as the name suggests, it is located on the Bataan peninsula, near the entrance to Manila Bay.  The story begins in 1973, when OPEC, the Organization of Petroleum Exporting Countries, first quadrupled the price of crude oil, then stopped selling oil to the countries which supported Israel in that year’s Middle East war.  To keep future overseas events from threatening the country’s energy supply, Marcos decided that nuclear power, rather than fossil fuel, was the way to generate electricity, and set up a presidential committee to raise the funds needed to build a power plant with two reactors.

Two big American corporations, General Electric and Westinghouse, wanted to build the nuclear power plant, and sent proposals for it.  The General Electric proposal offered detailed specifications on how the power plant would work, and estimated it would cost $700 million, while the Westinghouse proposal said they could do it for $500 million, without offering any specifications.  The presidential committee liked the General Electric proposal, but Marcos overruled them and chose the Westinghouse proposal.

Construction on the power plant started in 1976.  By then problems in the construction had been found, and the plan had been changed to one reactor, rather than two.  By 1984, when the reactor was nearly complete, $2.3 billion had been spent on building it, and neither Westinghouse nor the government gave much explanation for why the project was costing so much.  But what killed the project were fears about what could go wrong, after it became operational.  It turned out the reactor was dangerously close to a geologic fault, meaning it could get damaged by an earthquake, and it was also too close for comfort to volcanoes like Mt. Pinatubo.  Finally there was the news of nuclear accidents at Three Mile Island in the United States, and at Chernobyl in the Soviet Union.  For those reasons, the government that came after Marcos decided not to let the reactor go hot.  They sued Westinghouse for alleged overpricing and bribery, but those charges were rejected by a United States court.

And thus, the Bataan Nuclear Power Plant has sat unused, a concrete white elephant, for nearly thirty-five years.  The money spent on the plant has become the country’s biggest debt, since obviously they can’t give the nuclear reactor back.  Proposals have been looked at to convert it to a coal, oil, or gas-fired plant, but it appears it would be more economical to build a new conventional power plant from scratch.  Recently the Philippine Nuclear Research Institute has said that the plant can be unmothballed and put to use, the catch being that the cost of rehabilitating the facility will be anywhere from $1 billion to $3 billion.  With Imelda Marcos you saw Philippine taxes at play; now with the Bataan power plant you can see Philippine taxes at work!

*****

The United States generously gave aid during the Marcos years, and asked no questions, convinced that only Marcos could keep the country (and the US bases) out of communist hands.  This was the heyday of the time when Washington cultivated good relations with any foreign government that was pro-US and anti-communist, even the dictators.  One of the first foreign dictators to get this treatment was Anastasio Somoza Garcia, who took over Nicaragua in 1936.  President Franklin Roosevelt allegedly said this in 1939, to explain why the United States was supporting Somoza.  Quote:  "He may be a son of a bitch, but he is our son of a bitch."  Unquote.  Now the United States treated Marcos the same way.

Marcos ended martial law on January 17, 1981, because Pope John Paul II, a famous spokesman for human rights, was about to visit the Philippines, and it would look bad if martial law continued while the pope was there.  I remember at that time, when Ferdinand gave the speech announcing the end of martial law, Imelda cried as if their presidency had just ended.  Then in June another election was held, the first in twelve years, and needless to say, Marcos won easily, with 88% of the votes.  Another US vice-president, George H. W. Bush, attended the next inauguration, and praised Marcos for his quote, "adherence to democratic principles."  Unquote.  Actually, it no longer mattered whether there was martial law or not, since Marcos still ruled by decree and could rig elections as much as he pleased.  As one of the opposition leaders, former president Macapagal, put it, the lifting of martial law after 8 years was, quote, "in name only, but not in fact."  Unquote.

*****

Cut!  That will have to be a wrap, because we have gone overtime, compared with most of the other episodes.  We still have a few years to go on the Marcos presidency, so that will be a topic for a future episode.  But since this podcast labors to keep all the stories of Southeast Asia in chronological order, now we need to bring Burma up to where the other countries are in the narrative.  Therefore the next episode will cover Burma in the 1960s and 1970s, showing us the wacky things that can happen when a superstitious dictator is in charge, who believes everything his astrologers tell him.  How wild will the stories get?  Join me next time to find out!

While you are waiting, consider making a donation to the podcast, for it depends on you the listeners to keep its episodes available online.  You can make a one-time donation through Paypal, or sign up to make a small monthly donation through Patreon.  The Paypal button and a link to Patreon can be found on the Blubrry.com page where you got this episode; I also posted those links on the podcast’s Facebook page, a few weeks ago.  On Patreon we now have 13 Patrons supporting the show!  Will you become the next one?  And don’t forget to do the other things I usually request at the end of each episode: write a review, “like” the History of Southeast Asia Podcast page on Facebook if you haven’t already, and tell anyone you know who may be interested in the show!

I promised something special at the end of this episode to celebrate 100 episodes, and now it’s time to do it.  I am going to do something that I have never done before, and will probably never do again.  I am going to rap!

For the younger listeners in the audience, I remember when the first rap song came on the radio.  That was “The Rappers’ Delight” by the Sugar Hill Gang, and it hit the airwaves where I lived in the fall of 1979.

<Play song clip>

I was twenty years old at the time, and thought, “Well, well, a song where the artists talk in rhyme instead of singing.”  To me this was an interesting novelty song, and that was all.  Little did I know that a whole new genre of music was getting started right there!  Before 1979 was over, I heard songs from two more rappers, Sequence and Kurtis Blow, showing that rap wasn’t going to go away as fast as it appeared, and the rest is history.  Now in the forty-one years since then, I have never tried rapping myself, so I’m sure this will be so bad, you will think it’s funny.

Now fast forward to 1985.  That year America’s best-playing football team, the Chicago Bears, had its players record a rap song, “The Superbowl Shuffle.”  It not only became a hit, but it also motivated Da Bears to win the next Superbowl, in January 1986.

<Play song clip>

Then one month later, the People Power Revolution came, toppling the Marcos dictatorship in the Philippines.  Of course I will tell you all about that in a future episode of this podcast.  At the time, I had recently gotten married, and was waiting for my new wife to get her passport and visa, so she could leave Manila and come to the United States.  She was delayed, due to an unexpected government holiday!  A local radio station commemorated the news from the Philippines by playing a parody of “The Superbowl Shuffle,” called “The Marcos Shuffle.”  Though I only heard it once, I committed it to memory, and now here’s my rendition of “The Marcos Shuffle.”  Cue the music!
Yo!

We are the Marcos shuffling crew,
Shufflin’ on down, to Honolulu!
We’re so bad, we had to leave,
But we still got some money, up our sleeve.

The name’s Ferdinand, and he’s the Prez,
He won the election, or so he says.
But we didn’t come to make the feathers ruffle,
We only came to do the Marcos Shuffle.

We aren’t here, for the needy,
We’re only here, for the greedy,
But don’t you worry, everything will be great,
‘Cause we got ten billion in real estate.

We are the Marcos shuffling crew,
Shufflin’ on down, to Honolulu!
We’re so bad, we had to leave,
But we still got some money, up our sleeve.

<Applause>

Thank you, thank you very much.  Thank you also for listening, and come back when the monsoon winds are blowing right!

<Outro>