‘For every decision, he said, we will be making a segment happy, and the other, angry; at the end of the day, all we can do is try to do the right thing. I hope history judges Noynoy Aquino fairly.’
ALMOST to the day, five years ago, the 15th President of the Republic of the Philippines, Benigno Simeon Aquino III, facilitated a peaceful transition of power to then President-elect Rodrigo Roa Duterte. Despite seeing his handpicked candidate (and close friend) lose to the President-elect, PNoy handled the transition better than some of us: we were obviously still hurting from the loss. But PNoy, being himself, did not let whatever emotions he had get in the way of performing his duty under the Constitution. And so it went, before noon of June 30, 2016, he welcomed the President-elect into Malacañan Palace, rode in his car, and went home to Times St.
It is perhaps ironic that five years from that day, PNoy left this realm for the next, shocking one and all with news of his passing. As his sisters said, he left in the way befitting his personality; silently, without much fanfare. Even post-presidency, many wondered why he chose to keep his peace despite the issues plaguing the country, left and right. He only spoke when he felt it necessary to respond (as was the case when he posted his bail before the Sandiganbayan in 2017, and other appearances before the Senate and COMELEC) and refrained from giving his two cents on every issue foisted on him. This must’ve frustrated friends and supporters alike, and he was acutely aware of this.
He was one of a few living people who understood perfectly how difficult the job of Chief Executive was. He knew its demands, its caprices, how much it takes physically and mentally to get the job done. It was perhaps this knowledge that drove his decision; he knew the cross well, and did not wish to add on the burden. This is not to say that he did not agonize about keeping silent or speaking up; like the man that he was, he weighed each instance carefully, seeking the advice of those around him, as he did when he captained the ship.
Even as he saw former allies jumping the fence to hurriedly join the new administration, he held no grudge. I remember sending him a news report about a particularly close former ally who had switched allegiances, and asked if he was told beforehand about the move (I understood this to be a courtesy among political circles) and he replied in the negative. He must’ve detected my annoyance at the personality, and told me, “He helped us back then, even if he did not know me personally. Hayaan na natin siya, naiintindihan na natin ‘yan,” (Let him be, we understand these things anyway.) Even then, he was still teaching me (and everyone else around him) to be patient with the world we were living in.
He was, until the end, someone who wanted to see the country he cared for to succeed. He spent the greater part of his life contributing to government, whether as a legislator in the Lower House, a fiscalizer in the Senate, or as the Chief Executive who wanted to make things better than how he found them. Never one for kicking cans down the road, he tried to solve problems even if it meant breaking people’s rice bowls. For every decision, he said, we will be making a segment happy, and the other, angry; at the end of the day, all we can do is try to do the right thing. I hope history judges Noynoy Aquino fairly.
