Democracy's design

JOHN'S latest entry delighted me, not least as it served a reminder of the things we can agree on:

A battle of ideas, at least as far as ideas can be phrased in public debate; strong party identities; a run-off followed by a face-off between the top two candidates, to create a true majority mandate; not least, an election system (involving over 40 million voters, roughly the same size as our electorate) that provides the results within hours of the last vote.

What a wonderful world it would be, indeed. Back when I still worked for him, Teodoro Locsin, Jr. (then publisher of the defunct Today Newspaper, and not yet a Makati congressman) based his opposition to automating elections on the example of the French: they used paper ballots and counted things manually, yet knew the results of their presidential elections within hours of the polls closing. Which only goes to show that in and of itself, the old-fashioned paper ballot, etc. isn't necessarily a crooked, or inefficient, way of conducting elections. Add to this the the run-off elections that have been a feature of France's Fifth Republic presidential system, and there's much that can be said for looking at the French experience with government. The "French model" as we like to call it, is a semi-presidential one and remains attractive to many people: those most influenced by the Marcos years, for example, are often likely to support the French model. I myself am a presidentialist, but I'm also a firm believer in the two-round system for presidential elections, if we intend to retain the multiparty system (although a French scholar of my acquaintance, who has studied Philippine history and politics quite thoroughly, thinks we should return to the two-party system). Either way, I think it's significant that we haven't had a president who can claim over 50% of the vote, since Ferdinand E. Marcos's reelection in 1969. Think, too, in terms of contemporary history: in 1992, 1998, and 2004, if we'd had the run-off system, the first round results would have led to: Ramos vs. Santiago in 92, Estrada vs. de Venecia in 1998, and Arroyo vs. Poe in 2004. Perhaps the outcomes of those races would have been predictable, too: but in each case, the winner would have been armed with a majority vote, making opposition for the sake of opposition less appealing. I always repeat, when I can, what an Indonesian journalist once told me. He said that after they restored democracy, they decided to keep the presidential system as the one best-suited to their national temperament. But then they decided to look at the Philippines, which they considered as the model (culturally, even racially) most relevant to them to study. They came away with the lesson that at all costs, they had to avoid the Philippines' recent record of having minority vote presidents. So they instituted run-off presidential elections. It's more expensive, the Indonesian told me, and takes more time: but it avoids strife and instability in the long run, he concluded. Another thing we need to reconsider, I think, is our habit of synchronized elections. It would make elections more manageable (orderly, etc.) if we didn't elect everyone from Baranggay Kagawad up to Senator, and every six years, including the President and Vice-President, on the same ballot (or at least allowed bloc voting, another advocacy of mine). Have local, and national, elections in different years. And for larger nationally-elected groups, such as senators, keep the number elected at any given time more manageable. If you go over the April 4, 2007 editorial of the Inquirer, you'll see a rundown of the senatorial elections since they were held nationally in 1941. In that first national election for the senate (November, 1941) people had to vote for 24 names, but bloc voting was instituted. When the 24 senators were proclaimed, they, in turn, drew lots: dividing themselves into three groups, the first two serving for less than 6 years, and only the luckiest 1/3 serving out their full, 6 year-term. This permitted the defining characteristic of the senate for the duration of the Third Republic (1946-1972): in each election, only a maximum of 8 senators would be up for reelection at any given time. When we restored the Senate in 1987, in the first election we chose 24 senators, but since then, every election has the electorate choosing 12 names. Now if you recall all the discussions John and I have been having in this blog, you'll note that all the dirty tricks of politics seem to matter more, to the last 5 in that magic 12, and that oddly enough, the top eight are usually considered safe. What does this tell us? The wisdom, for one, in the old system. I haven't looked into why, in the pre-martial law days, 8 senators elected at a time was considered the optimum number, but guess what -the rule of thumb seems to hold true, even today. The 1935 Constitution and its amendments were drafted by people with long experience in practical politics, and perhaps they realized that 8 is about the maximum the electorate can be expected to bother with, in a senatorial slate. Then again, there are some people inclined to challenge the wisdom of debating reforms in national elections. They propose more radical solutions. Take the time to read another hundred years hence, who proposes a different model altogether for elections, one based on the baranggay. His study makes for thought-provoking reading. My only problem with it is a major one: I've seen how truly awful baranggay elections can be. Then again, if you look at the 1943 Constitution, the model of having one group elect the other groups, has been attractive for some time.