Class, too

Theres The Rub
Class, too

By Conrado de Quiros
Philippine Daily Inquirer
First Posted 20:54:00 07/06/2010

I HEARD IT ON AM RADIO LAST WEEKEND. A couple of hosts were talking about how the new President was the very picture of simplicity. One of them noted that a photo of Noynoy Aquino’s shoes appeared on TV and the newspapers and they were pretty ordinary, the kind you and I wear. The other agreed, saying the President’s clothes were like that too, he didn’t look like he dreamt of becoming a fashion king. Not only that, the first one said, he was humbled by the report that Noynoy preferred to have only one viand with his rice. Now, each time his kids complained of dinner, he would say, “Your President nga has only one ulam. Why can’t you be content with two?”

Before that, I read about how P-noy’s entourage went to Malacañang en route to Luneta on Inauguration Day with few escorts, taking care to stop at all the red lights and make all the U-turns. Above all not announcing their approach with screaming sirens. A thing not seen in a long time, when every congressman would storm down the road as though the devil were on his tail, cops on motorcycle parting traffic like the Red Sea.

And before that, I read about how Noynoy balked at the thought of living in Malacañang. He preferred his haunts in Times Street where he figured he could work just as well. He relented eventually, doubtless due to the importuning of his security which glimpsed the nightmare it would cause. But he is determined to occupy only a modest nook in the Palace and turn its spacious grounds, hitherto well patrolled by dogs, guards and political mendicants, not necessarily in that order, into some kind of people’s park.

Is it all for show? Well, I’ve read opinion pieces and blogs and heard radio commentaries that say so. But at the very least, if it’s all for show, it’s a damn good show. If the previous unelected leader had put up a show like this, she might not have gotten as unpopular as she did—although it’s a contradiction in terms for an unelected president not to be paranoid about her people. The people can do with being shown, show or not, that they are not the enemy to be shot if found clambering over the barbed-wired walls of Malacañang, cattle that ought to be driven aside, preferably by flogging, when the lord of the land is passing through, or a teeming rabble lacking in taste or class a leader must strive arduously to look different from.

But the notion of it being all for show is easily refuted by the fact that that was how Cory did things, too, and it was never for show. Cory refused to live in Malacañang because it had once been occupied by an ogre, one who had killed her husband. Cory never bathed in luxury, wearing ordinary clothes, having simple repasts, and being devoted more to spiritual rather than physical concerns (the last being a thing she might not have completely passed on to Noynoy).

She displayed how deeply she held on to these values the day her successor, Fidel Ramos, was sworn into office. She refused to be fetched by a limousine from Malacañang on her way to Luneta, arguing that she was no longer President Cory, she was Citizen Cory. She had herself driven there instead in a Toyota her family had given her as a gift.

She raised a son well, if only by sheer example. If Noynoy’s displays of simplicity are all for show, then it is a show he has put on all his life. Because that is how he’s been all this time. He does not put on kingly robes, he does not put out princely repasts, he does not put on knowing airs. Old habits die hard. Thankfully some habits are good.

None of this, of course, may take the place of running government, and running it well. Of running after the criminals of the past (and present), of ending corruption, of assuring the hungry of repasts, simple or otherwise. But it augurs well for the country, revolutionizing as it does the concept of leadership. For so long have this country’s presidents thought of leadership as being above the people, as imposing on the people, as leading the people by the nose. It’s time someone thought of leadership as being one with the people, as listening to the people, as getting the people to be one with their president. It’s time somebody proved that a leader is one the people follow.

“Mass follows class” was Imelda Marcos’ famous aphorism. It was also her justification for being baubled, bangled and beaded, or prettifying herself like a queen. The people, she said, wanted her to look that way so they could feel queenly as well, identifying as they did with her. A misguided proposition in every respect. Not least because there was nothing classy about Imelda. That is so for reasons that owed little to her having once been poor and provincial; that is so for reasons that owed much to how little she cared for the people she thought adored her. But more than that, that is so because Imelda had no clue then, as now, about what constitutes class. Class is not a function of (social) class, as the rich of this country like to think, it is a function of (personal) soul. It’s not what’s outside that shows class, it’s what inside.

Class follows class, whether that class is rich or poor. And class is not how pricey your suit or gown is, it is how priceless your sense or sensibility is. The heart of class, as of art, is simplicity. It may well prove to be the heart of governance as well. Certainly, it gave a depth of meaning to that part of P-Noy’s inauguration speech where he asked people if they too had endured the oppression of the past regime because God knows he had. He is one of the people, he will be one with the people. Many spend their lives saying, “I feel for you,” and never show it. Others spend their lives showing, “I feel for you,” and never say it.

P-Noy prefers the latter. That is class.