MANY people don’t like Presidential Spokesperson Harry Roque, the quintessential fly in the Cebuano saying, “langaw nga nakatungtong sa bukobuko sa kabaw.” I also don’t like him. The glow on his face every time he answers questions from reporters with the Malacañang symbol behind him reflects the depths of his ambition and the joys of him having fulfilled it. “Ecstasy” is the word for it.
Roque is reportedly running for senator, something I want him to pursue. But I also want to see him get his comeuppance and lose. The verdict should come from the people to be telling. That, of course, isn’t what I am writing about but rather his recent caper. He seemed to be gloating when he called on National Anti-Poverty Commission’s Liza Maza to surrender.
Maza, a former Gabriela party-list representative, together with former Agrarian Reform secretary Rafael Mariano and former Bayan Muna party-list representatives Satur Ocampo and Teddy Casiño have been ordered arrested based on what are apparently trumped-up charges for murder filed in 2006 yet.
I actually doubt if Roque’s integrity would stand in comparison with either Maza, Mariano, Ocampo or Casiño. But Roque is the one in power, and that makes for a lot of difference for now. Power has a way of creating illusions of grandeur.
But of the four militants, Ka Satur easily stands out. Maza, Mariano and Casiño are part of a different wave of activists produced under different set of circumstances the nation went through. Newer generation of activists always look back to the so-called pre-martial law days, or the sixties and the early seventies. Ocampo was among the best products of that period.
I was a young activist when Ocampo did what could only be stuff for legends. While incarcerated by the dictatorship of Ferdinand Marcos in 1985, Ka Satur, a journalist in his early years, was given a pass to join the election of the National Press Club. He then made a daring move and escaped, then went back to the underground. He was the big fish that got away, to the dictator’s consternation.
But Ocampo’s act wasn’t as daring as the one done by retired general Victor Corpus in 1970 when, as a young lieutenant, he led a raid on the armory of the Philippine Military Academy (PMA) and defected to the New People’s Army (NPA). Still, Ocampo escaping means going back to the uncertain life of a fugitive.
Going underground is a higher form of struggle that not many militants would choose to follow. That is why whatever decision the four former party-list representatives will make should be interesting. Will they come out and have themselves incarcerated, or would they decide to stay underground?
I don’t think Maza, Casiño and Mariano have ever been incarcerated for a long period of time, a common occurrence for activists during the martial law years. And while Ka Satur can be considered a veteran on this matter, he is already old. He is actually of the same age as Communist Party of the Philippines founding chairman Jose Ma. Sison, which is 79 years old. Sison is in The Netherlands.
Who would have thought that decades after the Marcos dictatorship fell, activists like Ka Satur would still go through these same challenges?