Antonio Trillanes, failed mutineer turned Senator of the Republic, has decided to play for all the marbles. After holing up in the Manila Peninsula with about 30 soldiers, he has  asked the public to choose between him and the President.

I get the sense that this pseudo-mutiny or quasi-coup will not end peacefully.

At the annual conference of the American Studies Association of the Philippines last Saturday, I started off with a borrowed idea (from Henry Jenkins of the Center for Future Civic Media, whom I read about through Ethan Zuckerman’s indispensable blog). I started with a question: What does democracy look like? And then offered the following photograph, by the celebrated Romy Gacad of AFP, as an answer.

I explained why, in the following terms:

“This Agence France Presse photograph was taken on August 12, 2006, when President Gloria Macapagal-Arroyo paid a quick visit to Legazpi City to survey preparations at a danger zone under the shadow of a restless Mayon. The next day, I wrote in my Newsstand blog:

This photo, taken yesterday by the peerless Romy Gacad of AFP in the vicinity of Mayon volcano, spoke to me on so many levels I knew I just had to use it … The composition is so exact it seems almost posed, until you consider the subjects involved: President Arroyo, of course, under the umbrella, facing (or receiving tribute from) Albay Gov. Gonzalez, Reps. Salceda and Lagman, and volcanology institute chief Solidum. (Note the triangle that the officials form.) Other photos, taken by Gacad and by other photographers too, remind us that this particular tableau was very much a product of the moment; in fact, most of the pictures taken at this volcano-gazing event yesterday show either the President by herself or in a huddle with officials. But the veteran lensman saw something different, perhaps a shift in movement, perhaps a blurring and then a coming-into-focus of color. Was it perhaps the presidential umbrella that drew his attention?

“In the 15 months since I wrote that, I have become more and more convinced that this candid portrait of the hierarchy of political power, caught on the wing, tells us something true about democracy, Philippine-style.

“But if this is democracy, where are the demos? Three possibilities. The people are implied; the leaders from the executive and the legislative branches are discussing their fate. The people have been warned off; note the sign that can be glimpsed in the space between the President and her umbrella-toting guard. If we fill in the blanks, we can read: Warning Don’t Go Beyond The Line. Not least, the people (and the press) are outside the frame, watching the scene.

“You may have other images in mind that illustrate democracy, Philippine-style. Any of the iconic photographs from the four heady days of Edsa Uno, for instance, would be similarly evocative. Familiar images of Philippine elections—yellow ballot box, blue-stained index fingers, seminarians in white—remain resonant. A photograph taken by Inquirer photographer Rem Zamora during special elections last May casts the eternal triangle of ballot box, armed guard, and election volunteer in a new light, literally through a different grid.

“But back to Bicol. I hope you will agree with me when I say that the Gacad photo does two things wonderfully well: It captures the elite nature of our representative democracy today, and at the very same time it recalls the datu-and-tribute origins of our history.”

The rest of my remarks can be found here, in Newsstand. But I would be interested to find out: For you, what does democracy look like? If you can’t post a photo, maybe you can post a link!

My column today, Don’t engage or dignify it , makes reference to these two documents, submitted by Atty. Adel Tamano to the Committee on Justice of the House of Representatives.

The first document is an Addendum/Supplement to the Pulido complaint, in an effort to fortify the case.

The second document is Tamano’s response to Rep. Matias Defensor’s rejecting the Addendum/Supplement:

Both make reference to the original impeachment complaint submitted by Atty. Pulido and endorsed by Rep. Edgar San Luis:

You can judge for yourself the merits (if any) of the Pulido complaint, the arguments of Tamano as to why they could do with some fortifying, and his counter-arguments when Rep. Matias Defensor rejected Tamano’s submissions.

Better for the complaint to be weak and gummy, than to allow it have teeth; the House dentists are against any legal dentures. But then, it may be that the absence of teeth is due to the Supreme Court,  as the PCIJ reports here: Impeachment case brought to SC.

Exhibit A (actually, Exhibit A-1 and Exhibit A-2) is what the Philippine National Police says caused the Glorietta blast.

Exhibit B is what the Ayala Corporation says caused the Glorietta blast.

And a 3-D Walk-Through of the Glorietta basement! How cool is that?

Bloggers like Tongue In, Anew seem more inclined to be skeptical of the PNP’s explanations, while other bloggers like Inner Sanctum (see his October 22 entry in particular) are not. See also, The Journal of the Jester-in-Exile.

Here’s what I find interesting. Now that the Governor-General, I mean, the US Ambassador, has spoken, it just might be that public opinion will shift, one way or another. The only reason I’m not saying public opinion will suddenly shift totally in favor of the PNP is, that the Zobels are involved on the other side, and you have another kind of colonial dynamic at work, there, as blogger Inner Sanctum seems to represent.

An effort to try to sift the evidence is in Glorietta Blast: Blaming the Basement, in Newsbreak (complete with a nifty diagram!).

As for me, I still think it’s too early to make conclusions, not least because a layman-friendly side-by-side comparison of all the available information, and the experts weighing in, has yet to be done.

Inquirer.net’s Thea Alberto  has the scoop: A copy of the Australian Federal Police report she was able to get her hands on confirms what PNP Chief Avelino Razon has said since last week: It was a gas build-up that led to the explosion in Glorietta 2, not a terrorist’s bomb.

Australian forensic experts have concluded that the blast which killed 11 and injured over a hundred in a mall in Makati City last month was caused by a gas explosion and not by an improvised explosive device.

In its 13-page report, a copy of which was obtained by INQUIRER.net, the Australian Forensic Police (AFP) however did not say what had led to the blast although it noted that there were several “potential sources” which included the “sewer gas/fumes which can consist of sulphur dioxide, methane, ammonia; diesel fumes.” Australian experts also said that there were no traces of bomb parts.

It is a conclusion I have a hard time believing, in part because of the previous theories floated by Razon himself and by other responsible officials (summed up in this Inquirer editorial), and in part because my own sources tell me the story isn’t over yet.

The editorial (published the day after Razon and a galaxy of star-bearing police officers visited the Inquirer and the Star) listed the different theories and the assertions of fact already on record, and concluded:

We recognize, of course, that theories change as more facts emerge. We understand that, aside from that stray remark about RDX traces being found, not much else points to a bomb. But we also realize that in some high-profile terrorist acts, it took government investigators some time to prove that bombs were in fact used.

We acknowledge the investigators’ readiness to continue considering the bombing angle — they were, after all, the first to consider it. We recognize their testing of new theories as consistent with the emergence of new facts. We believe, however, that their main duty, at this time, is to ascertain all the necessary facts. Unless these are established, any theory offered to the public is a rush to judgment.

The Australian forensic report goes a long way to establishing the gas leak theory, but Makati City Mayor Jejomar Binay remains skeptical. Before a copy of the report was obtained, but after Razon had raised the gas build-up theory again, Binay called for greater transparency in the ongoing probe and a new, independent investigation altogether.

Earlier, the mayor had called for an independent and impartial probe, citing the PNP’s “inconsistent and at times illogical statements.”

(Of course, Binay’s point is not without self-interest; the gas theory would make City Hall and its opposition leadership liable for negligence.) 

Even today’s Youngblood, a deeply moving tribute to one of the tragically slain, raises the possibility that the investigation was “polluted by politics.”

I have my doubts too.

In the first place, the record is clear: A few hours after the explosion, the PNP Chief himself aired the possibility that the blast was caused by a bomb.

Secondly, the visits by the PNP top brass to the various newsrooms were highly unusual. It could be that this is merely the way the new Chief does business, but as one can readily see from a comparison of the same-but-different front pages of the Inquirer and the Star the day after the visit, this kind of unusual attention stokes a journalist’s hard-earned skepticism.

Thirdly, the police generals were quick to adopt an aw-shucks attitude when questioned about the technical details of the (new) theory they were proposing. If this were a murder, I can answer your question directly, Razon told me, in so many words, during the meeting with Inquirer editors and reporters. The chief of the investigating task force, Chief Supt. Luizo Ticman, also admitted that the details were a little too arcane for him, but said he and the top brass were relying on the work of their expert investigators. We asked him for a listing, and he said: Sure, but I will have to ask them for permission first.

(A note: The quotes are without quotation marks because I am paraphrasing, as best I can, from memory.)

Later, maybe 20 minutes later, an aide handed Ticman a single sheet of yellow or legal paper, with what looked like 20 or so names written on it. This, he said, waving it in the Inquirer’s multi-purpose room on the second floor, is a list of all those experts working with us. I caught a look at some of the lines; they contained police titles: PO3, PO4, and the like. I remember thinking: Would a one-star general need the permission of the PNP’s own experts (he mentioned, other others, a “metallurgy forensic expert”) to disclose their participation in a high-profile investigation?

Fourthly, my own sources tell me about other findings, other “facts” unaccounted for in the new theory. Unfortunately, I am not in a position to corroborate what they say.

All this makes today’s Youngblood essay, by Patricia Palea Orjalo, that much harder to read. Patricia writes:

I was in denial for a long time. From the moment I got the first text message, to the anxious hours of searching for him at the Makati Medical Center and Ospital ng Makati, up until the night I looked at him inside the coffin, I could not accept the painful reality that my good friend had departed. But then again, who would have thought that a person so full of life and who gave so much would go ahead of us?

All of Onin’s friends and loved ones were distraught. A dark cloud hovered over the Vidamo residence on the first night of the wake. Mass was said with everyone present in tears. It started with discreet sniffs and burst out in loud wails of anger, grief and despair. The priest did not bother to stop the ceremony to comfort the family members. He let them be.