‘A bad striptease’

NO money changed hands at the Palace last October 11. That’s what Malacañang functionaries and some governors belonging to the League of Provinces of the Philippines (LPP) had been saying, at least up until Tuesday. In fact, people who were reading the Philippine Star that day may have noticed the LPP’s full-page advertisement in which the group’s members alternately labeled the reports of alleged cash-giving as “trumped-up,” “outrageous,” “fictitious,” and a “non-issue.”

But by night time of the same day, the same group had made a turnaround, and admitted they had indeed handed out cash — allegedly from their membership fees — to neophyte governors for their “capacity building programs.” The total amount they claim to have collected from their members: P21 million. Palawan Governor Joel Reyes, who was not among the 29 signatories (out of the 42 who attended the meeting), said only governors Joselito Mendoza of Bulacan and Fr. Eduardo Panlilio of Pampanga were given money at Malacañang that morning.

The statements appear to have been designed to cut out Palace functionaries — and by doing so, President Gloria Macapagal Arroyo — from the picture of cash changing hands, leaving only a scenario in which those involved were a selected few. But the LPP’s sudden 180-degree turn in a span of less than 24 hours has the hallmarks of a badly written script. Or, as political management expert Malou Tiquia says, “a bad striptease.”

“What happens before we reach the naked truth?” asks Tiquia, who is the founder and head of Publicus, a political consulting firm.

Well, probably plenty, predicts Jude Esguerra, executive director of the Institute for Popular Democracy (IPD), a nonprofit research and advocacy institute. He says the National Broadband Network deal and the cash-giving scandals are proving to be a lethal combination to the Arroyo administration. “It has destroyed relations between her and her allies and Malacañang officials,” he observes, adding that it has destabilized the government so much that the situation has been fluid for weeks now.

“There’s an eerie silence, political factions are regrouping, preparing for the next big thing,” says Esguerra. He thinks there is a possibility of resignations in the next few days. He even remarks, “I don’t see how she (Arroyo) can survive this.”

One miscue after another

It has obviously been no help that each challenge to the Arroyo administration seems to have been mishandled. Even those that appear to be its allies’ own making have led only to disaster. The alleged Palace payoffs are a case in point, and even what look like face-saving efforts only made matters worse.

“They have a very bad story line,” comments Tiquia. “They have a very bad ‘public face’ for this issue. Who is Evardone? What is his trust rating as against a Governor Panlilio?”

“That guy (Panlilio) is a hundred times more credible than a hundred governors,” agrees Esguerra. Like Tiquia, Esguerra believes Malacañang’s PR machinery has mishandled the controversy from Day One. “No one is coordinating things properly,” he says, “inconsistent ang stories that they churn out.”

First, there were the denials from the officials of the Department of the Interior and Local Governments (DILG) and the Presidential Legislative Liaison Office (PLLO) about any money changing hands. Undersecretary Tonypet Albano of the Office of Political Coalition Affairs also suggested that a good Samaritan may have been the source of the money. Interviewed on national TV, DILG Secretary Ronaldo Puno said it could be House Speaker Jose de Venecia Jr. who was behind the bonus.

Meanwhile, Chief Presidential Legal Counsel Sergio Apostol tried to downplay the whole event, saying since there were no conditions imposed on the receiver of the money, there was no bribery, hence, there was no crime. Other Malacañang officials shielded themselves from the fallout by saying they were not in the Palace that day.

Then came the full-page ad that cost a little over P150,000. But those who placed it rendered it unworthy of the paper it was written on. And now we have LPP Secretary General and Eastern Samar Governor Ben Evardone, who was among those who first denied the “gift-giving,” admitting that cash amounting to P500,000 were indeed given to Governors Panlilio and Mendoza. He even says that other governors will be given money in the coming weeks, to be sourced from the league’s annual membership dues.

Gaping holes

But Reyes and Evardone appear to have failed to consider that questions would be raised about the absence of receipts. Interviewed over dzBB yesterday morning, Evardone also said he did not know if the LPP is a government or private agency, which would define if the “annual dues” are private or public funds. That could only mean he has not looked at the LPP’s own website, which clearly states that it is a creation of the Executive, via Executive Order 262, circa 1987. Aside from this, dues to organizations like the LPP are culled from taxpayers’ money, making it part of public funds.

The latest explanation put forward by Evardone and Reyes also does not take into account the presence of other new governors in the meeting. Panlilio told the PCIJ that he remembers seeing Governors Eustaquio Bersamin of Abra, Victor Yap of Tarlac, Aurelio Umali of Nueva Ecija, and Vilma Santos-Recto of Batangas at the October 11 Malacañang meeting.

A check with LPP shows that there are 44 new governors (out of 81) elected last May 2007.

Other governors also deny having received “alliance and capability building” funds when they were neophytes, debunking Reyes’s claim that this has been a usual form of assistance to newly-elected governors. Isabela Governor Grace Padaca, who is now on her second term, says she never received money from the LPP, even when she was a neophyte.

In demanding that Panlilio and Mendoza return the money “to put this issue to rest,” Reyes and Evardone have also apparently underestimated Panlilio’s determination to find out where the money came from. “Before we return the money,” retorts Panlilio, “dapat maliwanag at kapani-paniwala na galing nga sa kanila ang pera (it should be clearly established and believable, that the money came from them).” That puts the onus on Evardone, Reyes, and the rest of the LPP to prove their group owns the money.

“Why did it take them 12 days to admit that the money came from them?” Panlilio wonders as well.

Tiquia, who has handled a lot of political campaigns, does confirm that giving away money has been the norm in Malacañang, especially during campaign seasons. “Pero disimulado, hindi cash, at dinadala sa bahay (But it was done with finesse, not handed out in cash, and it is delivered at home),” she says.

“The dictum in a media crisis is sit down and admit there is a crisis and go from there,” she also says. But apparently, she says, whoever had a hand in the cash handouts has yet to acknowledge that there is a crisis, hence the peddling of various stories that do not quite end the scandal.

Tiquia points out that the latest twist offered by Evardone does not even answer a fundamental question: “If the money did not come from government, why was it distributed in Malacañang?”