‘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.’
EXACTLY five years ago yesterday, at around 7 a.m., I got wind that the Permanent Court of Arbitration will release its decision on the case of the South China Sea Arbitration (more formally known as the Republic of the Philippines vs. the People’s Republic of China) at 5 p.m., Manila time. I called a former colleague who was on the team, and he confirmed that it was legit.
I then sent a message to former President Benigno Simeon Aquino III, fondly called “PNoy” by many, to inform him that the decision was due, and to ask for instructions. Unknown to many, I continued to serve as his spokesperson after he stepped down from the presidency, as he graciously accepted my offer of help. I mentioned that I would be on standby, and was ready to work with his executive assistant and speechwriter, JC Casimiro, to prepare for the two possible scenarios regarding the decision. Anyone who has worked with PNoy knows this by heart: you cannot merely report a concern or issue to him without presenting your proposed solution or next steps. Otherwise, what is that grey matter housed inside your skull for? Prepare for all possible eventualities, always.
His response was typical PNoy. His immediate concern was, how do we get a copy of the decision? (A side note: barely two weeks out of the highest office in the land, he already recognized that he was not part of the loop for official communications for the decision, and neither did he throw his weight around nor demand for his inclusion.) Before he said anything, he was firm about wanting to read the entire decision first. From a staffer’s point of view, his entire presidency was marked by this discipline: read, get the facts, double check. Decisions on matters of state cannot and should not be made on the fly. You cannot YOLO your way through the presidency.
The nature of my duties, I learned early on, was in constant clash with his deliberate decision-making style. I always had a deadline, with journalists breathing down your neck for a statement or a response. It was frustrating at times, and I learned to trust his sense and method, and to accord him the quiet required when making decisions that could possibly affect millions of Filipinos.
At last, 5 p.m. came, and our best hopes came into full fruition. The PCA had ruled in favor of all of our submissions, 15 in all. Ultimately, the PCA left the theory of the 9-dash line, pun intended, dead in the water. I stepped back a moment to take it all in – it was, as some called it, a Hail Mary. PNoy was right, in the end. A small country like ours could stand up to a giant as long as we stood on the truth and the law.
I gently prodded him about the statement. By this time, I could barely send a message as my phone was ringing off the hook. He wouldn’t budge. He would read the decision, line by line, word for word, until he was satisfied that he understood it fully. Only then would he speak, despite having been handed the decision of a lifetime. Another man would have grabbed every available mic in town to crow and preen, never mind the details. But this was PNoy after all, and he buckled down to read every single page — all 499 of them — before he spoke to the Filipino People.
As I told him after the dust had settled: Maraming salamat, Mr. President. Napakatayog ng lipad ng bandila natin sa araw na ito.
