In the tapes, the woman most Filipinos believe to be Ms Arroyo, insisted on the need for her to bag a million vote lead over her rival in the May 2004 elections, the late action star Fernando Poe Jr. Also, in the tapes, the woman and the man — believed to be Election Commissioner Virgilio Garcillano — talked about efforts to pad Ms Arroyo’s vote lead with the help of some military and election officials.
For over two weeks now, this curious tale of tapes has consumed the Filipinos. It was Ms Arroyo’s spokesman, in fact, who led reporters to the tapes, gave away copies, and proclaimed that the woman in the tapes is none other than the president.
Yet even as people’s demand for a clear, categorical explanation for the tapes gets louder by the day, Ms Arroyo has kept quiet, absolutely stubborn in her refusal to discuss the tapes, nor even to deny or confirm if she indeed was the woman caught on the tape.
As if to add to her deafening silence, election commissioner Garcillano has apparently gone into hiding beyond the reach of reporters and his own staff. Other than Garcillano, the Gloriagate episode has drawn a variety of dramatis personae.
Allan Paguia, one of the lawyers of deposed President Joseph Estrada, who annotated portions of the tapes in his own voice, was in on the drama from the very start. It was Paguia who helped distribute copies of the tapes (actually compact discs) to media agencies.
Samuel Ong, former deputy director of the National Bureau of Investigation, last week trooped to a Catholic seminary house, for fear of his life, and joined the cast of characters. Ong remains in hiding. An intelligence agent of the Armed Forces, Sgt Vidal Doble is also on cast. Ong had brought Doble into the seminary, for the latter was supposedly part of the military intelligence team that tapped into Arroyo’s phone conversations with Garcialano.
The president is evidently in deep trouble. The writing on the wall, so to speak, is clear for everyone to see and she just can’t ignore it.
Filipinos are a people with a most acute, if sometimes bizarre, sense of humour. But when humour slides down to contempt, any national leader with a modicum of self-respect would know that the people no longer respect him/her.
In fact, in open defiance of government warning that those who would play or display the tapes would be hauled to court, citizens’ groups are now playing the tapes in universities, plazas, markets, on the Internet, on cellphones, and the usual venues of protest rallies,
And the jokes about the Gloriagate just keep pouring in. The "Hello, Garci" portions of the tapes have been transformed into ringtones for cellphones. Radio stations are playing a "Hello, Garci" song sang to the tune of Hello, Dolly.
In the meantime, the protest rallies grow louder, even as President Arroyo continues to maintain her deafening silence. But when they are not giggling and dancing and laughing at Arroyo jokes, Filipinos discuss a long wish list of reforms Arroyo must, posthaste, introduce.
Even if the president survives the Gloriagate, it is doubtful if Arroyo will remain effective as a leader.