Beating the Odds

Philippine President Erap Estrada continues to rake up approval ratings despite odds stacked up against him

By Efren G. Abelgas

His critics have described him as an intellectual pygmy battling a political giant. A small town mayor becomes president. (Ha,ha,ha) A movie actor plays the part of the most powerful man in the country. (Hoo, hoo hoo) Detractors measure his intelligence quotient by the degree of his proficiency in the English language (very low). He is (was?), by his own admission, a womanizer. (Where would he go, he once asked publicly, after his wife threatened to leave him.) Businessmen and industrialists view him with cynicism, if not derision. He drags his heavy feet when he walks amidst other state leaders, slouches on the presidential throne, faces the cruel lights of TV cameras with his droopy eyelids, makes no effort to hide the fat on his belly, and he has the demeanor of a man constantly harassed and beleaguered. Make that, bewildered as well.

Yet Philippine President Joseph Ejercito Estrada, fondly called “Erap” by his countrymen, continues to rake up approval ratings that would make Bill Clinton cry with envy. At last count, it was 82 percent, and still climbing. No matter how the feisty and often unforgiving Philippine media lambasts him, Joseph Estrada still looms larger than life.

The truth is, Estrada defies description. Some say he was merely the creation of the movie industry. But ask anyone who has been in the industry for the last 50 years and he or she will tell you it was in fact the young Estrada who managed to bring the Philippine film industry to its knees.

He was the local James Dean. He made B-movies, true, but they were unforgettable B-movies. He became a famous actor. He went lustily after women, fathered their children with unrepentant indiscretion, broke their hearts, and went on his merry way to become one of the most-loved local politician the Philippines had ever seen. And they’re still wondering how in Heaven’s name he became president?

They loved and idolized him -- the masses, the poor, the workers, the farmers, the common tao. And much to the horror of the Philippines’ social and economic elite, they still do.

As town mayor of San Juan, a sleepy yet highly urbanized enclave of the rich in Metro Manila, Estrada worked quietly but efficiently. He did not change the personnel’s work orders; he merely changed the work ethic. He fired those who erred, spoke the language of the common man, and filled the town coffers with funds the likes of which its residents had never experienced with previous mayors. Graft and corruption became practically non-existent during his term; the peace and order situation was the envy of other local officials. Criminals, no matter if they were the police themselves who committed the crimes, invariably landed in jail.

Booted out of office by the Aquino administration, Estrada was criticized as having left a town filled with slum areas where makeshift shanties stuck out like a sore thumb amid the more fashionable homes of the wealthy. One detractor complained he had given more to the poor than Estrada ever did.

Yet Estrada went on to become senator,-- a “silent” senator, that is, if one is to believe his detractors again. He is known for never having addressed the august body from the rostrum, but even more pathetic, they say, was the way he would sleep through all the proceedings. Once, he challenged some of his colleagues to a fist fight, much like a street tough guy, which he had so convincingly protrayed during the ‘50s.

At the Ateneo, he constantly picked fights with the other boys, earning for him the idolatry of his peers that would later characterize his acting and political career. He paid a price for being idolized though--eventually, he was dropped from the roster of students.

Born April 19,1937 to a government official and a former beauty queen, Estrada comes from a religious family whose members call on the angels and saints to defend them in times of need. Estrada, even as a little boy, called only upon his inner strength and machismo to get him through the rough times in school.

Even as a boy, his mother recalls how the young Estrada would steal food from the family’s kitchen so he could give these to street urchins who roamed the neighborhood. Instead of doing homework, he spent most of his time playing with kids and toughies from squatter areas.

The members of his well-to-do family (nine brothers and sisters), who all became professionals, guarded their name and honor with discipline. But Estrada defied authority every step of the way, and, when he decided to give up his Engineering studies at the Mapua Institute of Technology to pursue a career in the movies, his family threw him out. They also told him never to use the family name “Ejercito” for as long as he was in the movies, it being a lowly and shameful job to them.

Spurned by his family, Estrada nevertheless tried his hand at acting. Filmmakers readily saw a natural, raw talent in the young man but his career was marked by a slow, calculated rise to the top.

He was careful not to let fame get to his head and he endeared himself to struggling actors and movie hands with his humility. He hung out with movie extras at the corner of Carriedo Street, in the busy commercial district of Santa Cruz, as they waited for assignments. He joined them in the back alleys of Avenida Rizal, played billiards and cards with them. He was by then already dubbed King of the Movies, but there he was hanging out with stuntmen, in-between-jobs-actors, handymen --who all remembered him years later as they elected him president of the MOWELFUND, the artists’ guild that creates the funds and oversees the welfare of the men and women in the industry.

Actor Fernando Poe Jr., another institution in the Philippine movie industry and Estrada’s closest friend, gave him the monicker “Erap,” for “pare,” from the Spanish “compadre” meaning close friend. Except for Poe and other celebrities, Estrada’s closest friends are his drinking buddies--low-profile and fiercely loyal to him.

His first attempt at Philippine politics was a disaster: he was totally drubbed when he ran for mayor of San Juan, and learned from that experience it was best not to mess around with the party in power (Ferdinand Marcos’s Kilusang Bagong Lipunan). But he also learned to dance to the ruling party’s music, and soon, he had become the favorite of the Marcoses.

When he did assume power in San Juan, however, Estrada threw himself in the service of his constituents. One will be hard put to find a resident of San Juan who will question the man’s integrity and honesty as its former town mayor.

When, as the newly-elected President of the Philippines, he broached the idea of hiring former Marcos men in his administration, the business community reacted with seismic shock.

He answered back with a definitive statement: they should stop dictating to the country’s president. He also promised to push for land reform and actively pursue advancement in agricultural productivity.

Despite the many missteps during his first months in office and despite the economic crisis that has wreaked havoc on the entire Asian front, Estrada, the beleaguered president, has managed to come into his own.

A recent article in the Los Angeles Times gave him rave reviews for his “skilled performance” as President of the Philippines. He has taken a strong stand for human rights, and his keynote address at an economic conference in Singapore last October was well-received. When the collapse of the country’s flag carrier Philippine Airlines, took on the immensity of a national crisis, Estrada negotiated with employees, management and would-be investors with such expert skill that many were caught by surprise.

Many had expected the former actor to fall flat on his face before year’s end and many had taken to predicting doomsday scenarios in the event of his fall.

But Estrada continues to beat the odds. It’s his turn to take digs at the Philippine’s elite group of businessmen and economists, chiding them for brandishing their “fancy” college degrees but failing to recognize, and heeding, the pulse of people.

The poor have compared him to Robin Hood, and Estrada, so far, has seemed to live up to their expectations. Campaigning with the slogan “Erap para sa mahirap,”(Erap for the poor) he beat his opponents who all promised prosperity for the country with their proposed economic programs.

“I’ll lead you there. I’ll bring food to you. Hold on to me,” he told the poor.

He still says that. And they still listen.