The Philippines at the Crossroads

The early and mid-1990s are proving to be an important crossroads for the Philippines, as the country not only begins to confront a greatly transformed external environment but also seeks to reverse more than a decade of disappointing economic performance. On the international front, the departure of U.S. military bases from the country in late 1992 (only a few months after Fidel Ramos assumed the presidency) presents potentially daunting challenges—both to the position of the Philippines in the world and to the position of the Philippine oligarchy within the Philippines. After almost a century of colonial and postcolonial “special relationship,” the Philippine state can no longer rely on outside support to guard against external threats, ensure the integrity of its national territory, and guarantee its rescue from recurring balance-of-payments difficulties. The oligarchy, moreover, cannot rely upon external support to continue to finance its long-standing domestic hegemony. In sum, the deal cut at the turn of the century, binding the interests of the United States to those of the major families of the Philippines, has come undone at century’s end.

On the domestic front, the greatest challenge has been to bring renewed and sustained growth to an economy long in the doldrums. Throughout the 1980s—commonly seen as a “lost decade” for the Philippine economy—annual growth rates averaged only 0.9 percent; between 1980 and 1992, real per capita income actually declined by 7.2 percent. In 1992 Ramos began his presidency with fresh perceptions of the country’s place in the world and an ambitious agenda addressing the challenges of a new era. The first three years of his term brought major reform initiatives and accomplishments—most notably in the economic realm—and renewed optimism about the possibilities for change. More recently, however, it has become increasingly clear that the hardest work is yet to come. When he steps down from office, Ramos will likely be judged by his skill in navigating the country’s politics through this critical crossroads and whether he has been successful in charting a course for the economy, domestic politics, and foreign policy that his successors will find worthy of emulation. Analysis of each of these realms suggests that while inducement for change is strong, obstacles to it remain formidable.

Reforming a Laggard Economy

Reform of the political economy was a top priority of the incoming Ramos administration, whose efforts were aided by a widespread sense that new approaches were needed to reverse the country’s poor economic performance. The worldwide trend toward programs of liberalization and privatization greatly influenced the choice of new strategies, particularly since these policies seemed to be working their magic on the country’s economically more successful neighbors. In more concrete terms, the country found itself faced with decisions about how it might participate in a series of associations that demanded greater commitment to economic openness—notably the Asia-Pacific Economic Cooperation (APEC), the General Agreement on Trade and Tariffs (GATT), and the free trade area of the Association of Southeast Asian Nations (ASEAN), known as AFTA. In each case, the national leadership was eager to jump on the bandwagon—and able to claim the support of important sectors ready to try something new.

In addition, the departure of the U.S. bases seems to have had a strong impact on national perceptions, leaving the country feeling both more exposed and more aware of its surroundings. With the security umbrella no longer providing as extensive an overhang, there was suddenly a greater tendency to look around the neighborhood. In the process, Filipino observers commonly perceived their own house—once widely admired—to be in disrepair and were often surprised to realize how extensive were the improvements in their neighbors’ abodes.

Certain important initiatives of economic reform are traceable to the latter years of Corazon Aquino’s presidency, but it was with the Ramos administration that new perceptions of the Philippines’ place in the world combined with new leadership to produce major goals for the wholesale transformation of the political economy. From the start, Ramos expressed a clear sense of his country’s weakness as a competitor in the international and regional economies. At his inauguration, the president decried an economic system that “rewards people who do not produce at the expense of those who do,...[and] enables persons with political influence to extract wealth without effort from the economy”; the political dominance of oligarchic groups, he explained later, is “the reason why the Philippines has lagged so far behind the East Asian Tigers.”

Indeed, the Philippine political economy has long favored the interests of major families at the expense of national developmental objectives. Although the roots of their socioeconomic power can be traced to the development of landed elites in the 19th century, it was in the American colonial period that major families emerged as a national oligarchy, able to dominate the country’s political and administrative apparatus and shape it to their own ends. Even as new entrants have continually expanded the ranks of this oligarchy— and familial economic interests have diversified considerably throughout the postwar years (beyond primarily agriculture to include commerce, manufacturing, services, and finance)—the business success and failure of family conglomerates has depended to a large extent on gaining favorable access to political power. When so dominated by the elite, mainstream politics becomes a particularistic scramble for the spoils in which ideological differences and coherent interest-based political groupings rarely play a major role. In combating these patterns of privilege, the Ramos reformers declared their determination to “level the playing field” and promote a process of development beneficial to the nation as a whole.

Perhaps the boldest initiative of the Ramos administration has been its attacks on the “cartels and monopolies” of major oligarchic family firms that have long had a stranglehold over key segments of the national economy. The first target, a moribund and inefficient telecommunications industry, has been transformed by new competition and now serves as the model for the reform of other sectors.

Such attacks on cartels and monopolies are part of a larger program of economic liberalization and infrastructural development being undertaken by the Ramos administration under the banner of “Philippines 2000”—a rallying cry for the country to join the ranks of the newly industrializing countries (NICs) by the end of the century. Trade liberalization, long a priority of local technocrats, the International Monetary Fund, and the World Bank, is given ongoing support by the country’s participation in the World Trade Organization, APEC, and AFTA. Foreign exchange and foreign investment have also been liberalized, and major state firms have been at least partially privatized. Moreover, in 1994 the rival stock exchanges were at last forced to unite in the midst of extraordinary growth in the long-dormant Philippine bourse (which has registered a nearly tenfold increase in capitalization since 1990). Ramos has also been credited with ending the crippling power shortages that deprived Manila and other areas of electricity for as long as 8 to 12 hours a day in 1992 and 1993—the very occurrence of which was evidence of the woeful neglect of the country’s infrastructure in the previous decade. By 1994 and 1995 the economy had achieved annual growth rates of 5.1 percent and 5.7 percent—modest in comparison to many of the country’s Southeast Asian neighbors but a tremendous improvement over the rock-bottom growth experienced late in the administration of Ramos’s predecessor, Corazon Aquino. GNP growth for 1996 will likely reach 6.5 to 7 percent, and many in the business community express high hopes that economic expansion will continue through the end of the decade.

Government economists emphasize that current growth patterns, unlike those of earlier years, are driven not by external debt and aid but by domestic and foreign investment. Furthermore, the growth, while encompassing Subic Bay and other areas near Manila, also extends far beyond the capital to include major new regional centers of growth, including Cebu and Gen. Santos City in the south. Many fresh faces have appeared on the business scene, and Filipino-Chinese conglomerates—many of which enjoy strong links to neighboring economies—have achieved heightened prominence. In addition, new business associations (most notably that of an innovative group of exporters) provide hope that the diversified conglomerates of the major families—nurtured by favorable access to the government—may at last be challenged by entrepreneurial elements whose emergence has been far less dependent on special privileges. By 1995, the midpoint of his term, Ramos had made three of his most commonly cited achievements, all in the economic realm: the end of the power crisis, the dismantling of the telephone monopoly, and renewed rates of growth.

In broader perspective, Ramos’s Philippines 2000 represents the first major strategic vision of Philippine political elites since the inauguration of Ferdinand Marcos’s martial law regime in the early 1970s. Although the eclectic team of advisors supporting Ramos’s program expresses a common commitment to a mutually supportive relationship between democracy and development, the team’s more specific reform objectives reveal a sometimes peculiar combination of advocacy of a “strong state” (to combat oligarchic dominance and emulate the developmental patterns of Northeast Asian newly industrializing countries) and the more conventional “minimalist state” prescriptions of American-trained technocrats and multilateral institutions (to curb state regulation and promote market solutions). The latter “free market” perspective has been most important in defining the specifics of economic policy; the political strategies necessary for the implementation of new approaches, however, seem to have been crafted primarily by those who argue the need for a “strong state” able to ensure that decisions are made for the nation as a whole and not for the few. Overall, analysts note a new consensus in favor of liberalization, market discipline, and integration into the world economy. ₁

The Limits of Liberalization

The higher growth evident since 1994, however, should not obscure enduring political and institutional obstacles to sustained economic growth and development. Unfortunately, some in the administration seemed to have grown complacent by mid-1995, pointing— with justifiable pride—to all the basic elements of reform that had already been put in place. Many observers—both foreign and local—were confident that the country had now resolved its economic woes. Much of this confidence was nurtured by neoliberal sorcerers, who claimed that the “magic of the marketplace” would now be able to pop out of the liberalization hat. More recently, however, the intoxication of relative success has at times been overshadowed by a series of hangovers. The reform measures do indeed provide major advantages to an economy long stifled by an emphasis on privilege for a few, but it has become increasingly apparent that liberalization will not, in and of itself, guarantee sustained economic growth.

At one level, liberalization remains limited in scope: It is still not clear that the Ramos administration—despite its commitment to reform—has the political strength to break all key cartels and monopolies and thus succeed in leveling the playing field in the economy as a whole. There has indeed been success in promoting greater competition in telecommunications: The former monopoly, the Philippine Long Distance Telephone Company, is now providing better service and quite happily making more money than ever (although many of its new competitors complain that it has often been uncooperative in facilitating interconnections with them). Impressive degrees of transformation have also occurred in other sectors, most obviously airlines and shipping. Thanks to measures liberalizing foreign exchange and foreign investment, many of the new competitive pressures have come from a major influx of international investment that, until recently, tended to bypass the Philippines for other locales.

Alongside such successes, however, there have also been initiatives largely stifled by those who were supposed to be reformed. Frustrated by long experience with economic stagnation, much of the business community (as well as many in the labor movement) initially indicated a receptiveness to new strategies. The major push for change, however, has generally come not from a business sector anxious to alter often unproductive modes of operation, but rather from a committed core of reformers within the Ramos administration. Exercising effective and persistent leadership at a propitious crossroads in the country’s history, they have indeed begun to effect change. But they have often encountered major resistance from segments of the business community that, while expressing support for liberalization in general, have sometimes opposed key elements of specific liberalization measures. At times, careful political strategies have resulted in major victories for the reformers; at other points, the resistance has prevailed.

A prime example of this resistance is in the banking sector, the most heavily fortified bastion of privilege and profits. New foreign banks have been allowed into the system, but clear limits have been placed on the degree of new competition that will result from the specific liberalization measure: The greatest impact will be on upper segments of the market, which were already quite competitive, and there is little promise that banks will begin to service the needs of small- and medium-scale enterprises and ordinary depositors. Bankers voice rhetorical support for liberalization while congratulating themselves for helping to craft legislation that did not require “too many unnecessary concessions”; developmental objectives, meanwhile, continue to be defeated by the interests of a few. ₂

Moreover, because the country’s commitment to liberalization has not been matched by any similar commitment to export promotion, a kind of reverse mercantilism has resulted. The mercantilists of Northeast Asia restricted imports while promoting exports; in the Philippines, on the other hand, the ports have been opened up to a stream of foreign goods without any concomitant effort to promote higher value-added exports. Impressive growth in total exports since 1993 has generally been accompanied by even more rapid growth in imported inputs: While annual export growth averaged 21 percent in the years 1993-1995, imported inputs expanded by an average of 22.6 percent. ₃ A strong peso encourages the continuing dominance of low value-added exports, and broader programs of export promotion remain weak. Not surprisingly, the trade deficit was a substantial $9 billion in 1995; the remittances of overseas workers and other foreign inflows, however, ensured that the current account deficit was kept in check.

At an even more basic level, there would be clear limits to any program of liberalization—even if it were broader and more comprehensive in scope. For one thing, it is, unfortunately, questionable whether Philippine state institutions are currently able to provide the necessary political foundations required even by a minimalist role of the state in economic transformation. Advocates of free market approaches tend to agree that governments have an important role in helping to create a level playing field upon which entrepreneurial activity can flourish. But the Philippine government has often had difficulty providing such basic foundations—whether it be supplying electricity and other vital infrastructure, protecting communities from rapacious loggers, arbitrating business disputes, or providing even-handed regulation of the financial system. The Philippine government has not only been unable to emulate the strong developmental guidance provided by the skillful and powerful governments of the East Asian NICs; more fundamentally, it has also failed to provide the even more basic legal and administrative underpinnings necessary for free market capitalism.

Proponents of liberalization commonly assert that it curbs overly intrusive governments and lays firmer foundations for private sector initiative. In the Philippine context, however, big government and shortage of private sector initiative, per se, have never been the major ills plaguing the political economy. First, the problem in the Philippines is not the quantity, but the quality, of government intervention. The Philippine government has a small share in the country’s GNP relative to that found in other countries in the region. Moreover, the World Bank has repeatedly expressed its concern about the country’s low tax effort, which lags far behind that of its more economically successful neighbors. Second, there has never been any shortage of private sector initiative in the Philippines, where access to the political machinery—whether headed by a democratic or an authoritarian regime—has long been the major avenue to success in business, and the quest for “rent-seeking” opportunities brings a stampede of favored elites and would-be favored elites to the gates of the presidential palace. Merely cutting back the role of government through a conventional program of liberalization, then, will not in and of itself ensure either an improvement in the quality of government services or a reduction in the power of the oligarchy that has long plundered that government for particularistic gain.

At least one key Ramos aide has warned against the dangers of complacency and emphasized that the toughest work is yet to come. Presidential Security Adviser Jose Almonte, the administration’s most vocal critic of cartels and monopolies and the oligarchic privilege that nurtures them, explained in a speech to the Philippine Economic Society in early 1996 that achievements to date represent the “easy” reforms. As “hard” reforms requiring greater administrative capacity are being attempted, he observed, “the weaknesses of the Philippine State are starting to show.” It will be necessary, Almonte asserts, to reduce oligarchic influence over the state and promote better governmental provision of basic developmental tasks: “the paradox of market reforms is that they require capable states....Unless the Philippine State becomes stronger and more efficient, it will not be able to deal with our long-standing problems.”

Overcoming Obstacles to Developmental Success

Business leaders commonly see insufficient government attention to such problems as poor infrastructure and crime as among the greatest obstacles to sustained economic growth. In 1995, for example, they warned that, unless the government provides greater infrastructural support, “we will run into serious problems and growth will level off.” ₄ Build-operate-transfer arrangements with private firms have often provided a clever means of circumventing an inefficient bureaucracy, but recent delays on the $760 million North Luzon Expressway project have shown that even privatized public-works projects can become bogged down in controversy over alleged improprieties.

Although the Ramos administration has devoted major attention to remedying deficiencies, infrastructure remains heavily strained not only by fiscal problems and corruption but also by natural disasters, environmental degradation, and rapid population growth. Administrative initiatives are often dwarfed by the magnitude of the problems involved. Any government would be challenged by the massive quantities of volcanic mud flowing off the slopes of Mt. Pinatubo onto the plains of Central Luzon. As illicit dissipation of resources and interagency battles continue to sabotage an effective response, however, future rainy seasons threaten to bury not only more farmland but also the bustling city of San Fernando, Pampanga (and its estimated $4 billion in business investments).

Recent rice shortages and concomitant inflationary pressures refocused attention on infrastructural deficiencies and low productivity in the agricultural sector, which accounts for one-quarter of national income and one-half of total employment. Meager public investment has contributed to abysmal growth rates and enduring poverty since 1980; meanwhile, the deeply flawed agrarian reform program so facilitates loopholes and landlord evasion that it does little to promote redistributive reform and the development of a broader base of prosperity. Moreover, the glacial pace of its implementation discourages investment both by generating uncertainty and by providing incentives for conversion of lands to nonagricultural uses.

The greatest crisis of confidence in governmental capacity comes in the area of “law and order”—which is ironic given that the current chief executive headed up the Philippine Constabulary under Marcos and the entire national defense establishment under Aquino. In a September 1995 statement of the Philippine Chamber of Commerce and Industry, business leaders warned that persistence of “the twin problems of kidnappings and bank robberies” undermines investor confidence and reinforces “the perception that the government is helpless in alleviating the situation.” Highly publicized kidnappings of foreign businesspersons sapped investor enthusiasm in the Aquino years, and the number of reported kidnappings increased from 39 in 1991 to 199 in 1995. Common targets are Chinese-Filipino businesspersons and their families, many of whom choose not to inform the authorities because of widespread reports that kidnap gangs are closely connected with so-called law enforcement officials. Solutions to the problem continue to be attempted, but the business community—and the larger public—are increasingly impatient for results in breaking a kidnap-for-ransom “industry” that is actually estimated to have collective profits rivaling that of a major automobile company.

If “hoodlums in uniform” have provoked widespread cynicism toward the law enforcement system, “hoodlums in robes” (to borrow the terms of Vice President Joseph Estrada) have had the same impact on a judicial system widely disdained for its frequent dispensing of decisions to the highest bidders. Archbishop Jaime Cardinal Sin, for example, recently denounced the “judicial Judases” found throughout the system and observed that the study and practice of law in the Philippines are “as different as heaven and hell.” Corruption aside, uncertainties and delays generated by the court system are often a source of business frustration; recent court rulings related to foreign investment have done little to ease long-standing concerns of international investors. Perhaps the greatest complications, however, are found in the extraordinary quantity of litigation related in one way or another to the plunder of the Marcos years.

More generally, sustained economic growth depends upon improving the quality of the bureaucracy—described by Ramos as the “weak link” in national developmental efforts. Thus far, the most successful economic reform efforts have been those that merely remove restrictions on competition; far more complicated are initiatives requiring sustained administrative capacity. It is one thing, for example, to liberalize agricultural imports or remove restrictions on agricultural exports, but quite another to provide the roads, irrigation facilities, extension services, and other infrastructure necessary for farmers to improve their productivity and meet the challenges of international competition. Similarly, it is far easier to open up the economy to foreign investment and imports than to develop sustained programs of export promotion that can assist local entrepreneurs anxious to tap new opportunities in world markets.

Recent scandals in the Department of Health and elsewhere highlight the enormous need to develop a bureaucracy that can support—rather than obstruct—the country’s developmental needs. Reducing the overall scope of bureaucratic activity, Ramos explains, is the first step toward enabling the state to begin to perform more effectively the basic tasks required of it. He continually asks Congress to approve a major reorganization of the bureaucracy, but that is only one of many ambitious legislative priorities. In any case, reforming a system overflowing with congressional appointees is a herculean challenge, and efforts to provide salaries sufficient to attract better civil servants face formidable fiscal constraints.

Although it is heartening that national leaders intend to strengthen the civil service over the long term, change in the short term is likely to be piecemeal at best. Many are impressed with current efforts to revamp a notoriously ineffective Securities and Exchange Commission, but additional reform is necessary at the agencies responsible for such vital tasks as bank supervision and revenue collection—where the Philippine state has long been unable to safeguard public resources and regulatory responsibilities for public gain. Thus, no matter how sound the policy agenda promulgated at the national level, there is little hope of coherently sustaining it in the absence of strong political and institutional foundations.

The current program of liberalization is best viewed as merely a first step in shaking up the old system; there must also be a long-term concerted effort to provide stronger foundations for sustained economic growth. In an optimistic scenario, one might hope that by reducing the sphere of rent-seeking opportunities, liberalization will disrupt old patterns of private sector plunder, nurture new patterns of entrepreneurial behavior less reliant on special privileges, and, through the growth of new elements of the business class, create a stronger constituency for those in government intent upon creating stronger political foundations for economic growth. Unfortunately, it is equally possible that the entire program will be undermined by the absence of solid foundations.

Emergent Stability or Enduring Conflict?

A major factor supporting renewed economic growth has been a renewed level of political stability; overall, the national political scene is calmer that it has been at any point since before the tumult of the 1980s. The 1992 presidential and congressional elections were widely perceived as an important sign that democratic institutions were consolidating themselves in the post-Marcos era, and the May 1995 congressional elections involved former coup plotters choosing “electoral struggle” as a new means of achieving political power and goals. Most notably, former colonel Gregorio Honasan, whose renegade military band threatened the Aquino administration with several unsuccessful coup attempts in the late 1980s, is now a member of the Philippine Senate. The decline in intramilitary dissension was formalized in October 1995, when the Rebolusyonaryong Alyansang Makabansa (RAM) signed a peace agreement in which it promised to return its weapons in exchange for amnesty and reintegration into the armed forces.

Further political stabilization has emerged from the dramatic weakening of the once-powerful Communist Party, whose bitter internal differences split it and its New People’s Army (NPA) into openly feuding camps by late 1992. The party first encountered major problems adjusting to new modes of struggle after the fall of the Marcos dictatorship in 1986, and important accommodationist policies of the Ramos administration—the legalization of the Communist Party, amnesty to “rebel returnees,” and extensive negotiations with the communist-backed National Democratic Front—seem to have been successful both in encouraging ongoing defections and exacerbating intraparty struggles over strategy. Philippine military drives have further contributed to the NPA’s marginalization, although communist rebels remain a presence in some outlying provinces. Today, breakaway urban guerrillas continue occasional assassination drives in Manila, and leftist groups remain capable of mounting occasional protest actions against price and tax increases brought on by economic reform programs. Thus, although the militant left has but a fraction of the influence it enjoyed in the mid-1980s, it would be a mistake to presume the permanent demise of radical solutions to national political woes as long as the social and economic problems that inspired past insurgency remain largely unresolved.

In Mindanao, the government recently achieved a major breakthrough in negotiations with Muslim secessionist forces. Talks with the Moro National Liberation Front (MNLF) initially were reinstated following a 1992 cease-fire agreement, but they frequently bogged down amid fundamental disagreements over how the promises of autonomy first made by Marcos in 1976 were to be implemented. The MNLF argued that an autonomous region should be granted outright, while the government insisted on the need for a plebiscite. Amid threats of renewed hostilities, the two parties reached a historic accord in June 1996: In lieu of an immediate plebiscite, both sides agreed to the creation of a temporary body, the Southern Philippines Council for Peace and Development (SPCPD), to be headed by MNLF chairman Nur Misuari and nourished with ample funds from Manila (as well as, it is hoped, by sympathetic Islamic countries).

The range of the SPCPD extends much further than that of the Autonomous Region of Muslim Mindanao (ARMM) created in 1989, but the ultimate boundaries of the autonomous entity will be decided in a plebiscite three years hence. In effect, Misuari seems to have abandoned secessionist aims in exchange for patronage resources that will enable him to build up a stronger political base. This base is formidable: He not only has been promised leadership of the SPCPD but also was elected ARMM governor (on the Ramos ticket) in September 1996.

If Ramos has succeeded in making peace with the MNLF, however, he has at the same time alienated many Christian Mindanaoans. Tensions were already heightened by a spate of bombings in Zamboanga in the weeks prior to the agreement (for which police blame forces seeking to ensure the failure of negotiations); after the accord, Ramos found himself confronted by tomato-hurling protesters during a tour of the South. Opposition is far from unanimous—many Mindanao Christian politicians support the president—but there is no question that the agreement will face major resistance from those who resent the stature and resources given Misuari and perceive (incorrectly) that his council will dominate existing governmental units. Ramos, for his part, is mounting a determined campaign to garner support for the agreement and has made its successful implementation one of the very top priorities for the final two years of his term.

Even if peace is achieved with the MNLF and Christian resistance is quelled, however, ongoing elements of the Muslim secessionist movement have the potential to pose an increasingly powerful challenge to the central government in Manila. The MNLF’s official departure from the battlefield was accompanied by the simultaneous strengthening of other forces, not only breakaway groups from the MNLF but also the Moro Islamic Liberation Front (or MILF, which split from the MNLF in 1978) and the Abu Sayyaf Group (reportedly led by veterans of the Afghan wars). The precise links among these various groups remain the source of considerable speculation, but their military capacity was clearly demonstrated in the April 1995 ransacking of a town in western Mindanao. Officials blame Abu Sayyaf for the attack, as well as for a host of other kidnappings and bombings in Mindanao. The strongest secessionist group, however, is the MILF, whose standing army (of 8,000 fighters, according to Philippine officials, but estimated by others to be several times larger) and solid base in west-central Mindanao threaten Manila’s control over a significant chunk of the South. ₅ Thus, although political stability has certainly been enhanced on many fronts, possibilities for ongoing conflicts nonetheless endure

Ramos and Congress: New Measures, Old Methods

Under the Ramos administration, relations between the executive and the legislative in Manila are certainly far less contentious, but no less predictable. For the first half of his term, Ramos often achieved striking success in building wider bases of legislative and popular support. Despite winning just under one-quarter of the votes in 1992, he used his considerable skills in old-style political maneuvering to forge a multiparty “Rainbow Coalition” of support in the House of Representatives. His own political party, the Lakas-National Union of Christian Democrats (Lakas-NUCD) won only 41 of 206 seats in the 1992 elections, but through wholesale switching of parties claimed 112 seats by mid- 1993; the Rainbow Coalition as a whole came to comprise nearly three-quarters of the House. Cordial relations between the House and the Palace are nurtured by considerable congressional input into the appointment of cabinet officers (many originating in the House itself), as well as by programs that provide congresspersons at least $500,000 each per year (and, for many, several times more) in discretionary funds to be applied to their pet projects. In exchange, Ramos has enjoyed solid House support for important measures of his economic reform program. The dominance of Lakas-NUCD and its Rainbow Coalition was handily confirmed in the 1995 elections.

Unfortunately for Ramos, relations with the Senate have not proceeded so smoothly. Traditionally, the Senate has always been a more independent body than the House; because its members are elected nationally, many see themselves as serious contenders in future presidential elections. While senators actually obtain far more discretionary funds than do their counterparts in the House, the relatively greater power of each senator makes it far more difficult for the Palace to obtain their compliance. In the 1992 elections, the opposition Laban ng Demokratikong Pilipino (LDP) won a strong majority of the Senate’s 24 seats and soon found itself accused of “obstructing” administration measures of economic reform. Ramos managed to engineer a solution in late 1994, when his Lakas-NUCD forged a coalition agreement with the LDP (described by Ramos as not “a temporary union of inexperienced virgins,” but denounced by one Manila newspaper as “a get-together of aging tarts and incompetent harlots”). The coalition emerged victorious in the 1995 elections: Of the 12 seats being contested, the Lakas- NUCD-LDP coalition won nine. Ramos’s bloc could now boast 21 of 24 seats in the Senate, of which 14 were LDP.

This very tenuous coalition of weakly institutionalized political parties fell apart within months, however, when Senate President Eduardo Angara was deposed in an August 1995 “coup” seemingly initiated by discontented senators and supported by the Palace. Although its motivation for the coup was probably the Ramos camp’s eagerness to cut down a potential rival in the 1998 elections, the result was highly counterproductive. The Senate—and thus the entire Ramos legislative package—screeched to a halt; for months, the only bill to become a law related to the iodization of salt. Angara, who had formerly given considerable support to reform legislation, established his own opposition bloc in the Senate.

The House coalition faced fewer tensions, but the cost of regaining even a modicum of reform momentum has been considerable. House members were each given some $1 million in discretionary funds in early 1996—reportedly to assist the passage of tax measures, oil deregulation, and other legislation in March. Ramos continues to deliver ambitious legislative agendas to Congress; however, the price of delivering success will likely become higher as the 1998 elections approach. Such transactions began to come under increasing public scrutiny after a major newspaper revealed, in July, that the total cost of the two major “pork barrel” programs had soared to consume nearly $1 billion of the annual budget, and that many of the legislators allegedly receive hefty kickbacks from the projects they sponsor. ₆

Sustaining economic reform—not only in the latter Ramos years but into subsequent administrations as well—ultimately depends on reform of a political process still dominated by traditional politicians (disparagingly referred to as trapos, or dishrags). As Joel Rocamora observes, the administration’s “continuing vulnerability to the requirements of trapo politics has made it difficult to clinch a thoroughgoing reform image.” Almost a full decade after the restoration of elite democracy, the Philippine party structure continues to be even more weak and volatile than it was in the pre-martial law era. In the absence of effective political parties organized around some basic programmatic agenda, the passage of legislation requires enormous expenditure of effort and resources on individual legislators. The overall cost—both in terms of public funds squandered and cabinets compromised by corrupt and/or inept politicos—often becomes apparent long after the short-term victory has been won. ₇

Under the Shadow of 1998: Issues and Choices

Already in 1996, political dynamics are to a large extent shaped by the 1998 presidential and congressional elections. Overall, there is great concern over succession, both among those who fear Ramos will extend his one six-year term in violation of the constitution and among those who wish Ramos could somehow extend his term in order to continue his program of reform. But the president has promised to step down on schedule, thus shifting some of the attention toward the question of whom he will “anoint” as the favored Lakas candidate. LDP politicians (led by Angara) have formally broken their bond with Lakas in order to intensify preparations for 1998, although many of the party’s members were loathe to deprive themselves of the patronage and other benefits that the coalition provided. Because Vice President Joseph Estrada is widely treated as the front-runner for the presidency, there is considerable speculation as to his future alliances and choice of running mate.

Legislative races are set to produce considerable turnover, since a large number of representatives and senators face term limits and are unable to run for reelection. One important new institutional arrangement will be a party-list system, mandated by the 1987 constitution but quite tardily put into operation, that requires 50 members (roughly one- fifth of the body) to be chosen from parties that were not dominant in the 1995 elections.

With anticipation about 1998 as a backdrop, the Ramos administration continues to confront major issues in its remaining two years in office—while at the same time keeping a close eye on its troubling performance ratings (which plunged from +32 percent in September 1992 to -19 percent in January 1996 before improving somewhat by midyear). A number of factors at home and abroad have contributed to this decline in popularity, some probably unavoidable but others reflecting at least a temporary malfunction in the political dexterity displayed in earlier years. Corruption scandals involving Ramos appointees marred the administration’s public image, and reports of Palace infighting contributed to perceptions of a certain lack of coherence and focus.

Two tough problems that Ramos now displays determination to confront, political risks notwithstanding, are oil deregulation and tax reform. The price of oil has long been a particularly contentious political issue in the Philippines, and pressures to keep prices low have often necessitated subsidies that burden an already beleaguered Treasury. Here, commitment to liberalization threatens both to renew inflationary pressures and worsen the political woes of Ramos, who was already forced by popular mobilization to reverse a price increase in 1994. With the 1996 passage of an oil deregulation measure, any future price increases will be determined by the market rather than by administrative decision. Even if market-induced, however, price hikes will surely do little to enhance the popularity of the administration.

The government must also find politically and administratively feasible means of increasing its low rates of revenue collection. Expanding the value-added tax was supposed to have the advantage of relatively straightforward administration, but even this tax was plagued with confusion about its implementation. The most important measure, the comprehensive tax reform bill, seeks to raise over P13 billion (largely from changes in excise and income tax structures). New revenues are essential; budget surpluses in 1994 and 1995 have been made possible only by huge intakes from privatization and cuts in infrastructural spending. As one economist explains, “None of these trends can, or ought, to be sustained.” ₈ Ramos has called the bill the “cornerstone” of economic reform efforts, but thus far legislators have shown more fondness for approving new exemptions than for creating new revenue sources.

Laying that cornerstone will require a huge expenditure of political capital, and in the process it is quite likely to be carved into unrecognizable shapes. The formidably influential magnate Lucio Tan has found many allies in Congress in his quest to ensure that revenue policies remain favorable to his beer and cigarette companies; he even managed to convince the Supreme Court, in June, to support him in a $1 billion tax evasion case pressed by the Ramos administration. ₉ The tax package remains in the balance, and many question whether Ramos will be able simultaneously to obtain congressional support for both tax reform and the agreement with the MNLF (not to mention the additional highly ambitious goals of bureaucratic and judicial reform). Congress faces enormous pressures from businesses seeking to keep taxes low, and the broader public may reasonably question the fairness of a tax system that has long shown itself incapable of significant exactions from property owners and other holders of large assets. Furthermore, even if a more productive revenue structure is promulgated, the far more fundamental question of whether the administrative structures of revenue collection will be able to implement it effectively will remain.

Other major issues that led to administration unpopularity could likely have been avoided. The rice shortages of late 1995 resulted, most proximately, from failure to import additional stocks despite clear indications of a future shortfall (reportedly to ensure that it not be an issue in the May 1995 elections). Needless to say, regimes unable to guarantee ready supplies of the staple crop tend to find it difficult to build broad support for larger programs of reform.

Public concern over authoritarian impulses has also had a negative impact on the popularity of the administration. Fears of such impulses are nurtured by the central role Ramos played in the Marcos regime, as well as by the frequent appointment of retired military officers to important government posts. Memories of martial law remain a very emotive element of Philippine politics, and Ramos and his advisers resurrected past fears in debates on two major issues. First, the administration twice pushed proposals to revise the constitution from a presidential to a parliamentary system of government. Because Marcos employed the same strategy to prolong his tenure as chief executive in the early 1970s, prevailing political discourse in the Philippines often associates a shift to a parliamentary form of government with the advent of authoritarianism; indeed, many have accused Ramos and his congressional allies of using charter revision as a means of circumventing term limits and extending their tenure in office. Such fears were exacerbated by the specifics of the administration’s draft proposal, which contained no provisions for a question hour or a vote of no confidence. Public opinion polls reveal continuing opposition to a shift in the form of government, and even those who support other versions of parliamentarism (in hopes that it will nurture more issue-oriented parties and give greater voice to those long marginalized by the elite-dominated electoral system) forcefully denounced the plan.

The administration met even more forceful public resistance to an early 1996 “anti-terrorism” bill that would enable the government to detain suspects without a warrant for three days, examine bank accounts, and tap phones. Combined with earlier statements by top officials promoting emergency powers, curfews, checkpoints, a national identity card system, and restrictions on defendants’ rights, this initiative aroused widespread fears of the reemergence of martial law powers. Few would disagree that the crime problem needs serious attention, but many questioned the extent of a terrorist threat—and were in any case opposed to augmenting the powers of officials who commonly use existing powers of coercion not to enforce the law but rather to break it. Coinciding with proposals to impose new taxes and raise the price of oil, the bill could not have been more ill-timed: Throughout major cities demonstrators denounced Ramos’s “triple whammy.” The anti- terrorist bill was ultimately shelved, but only after a substantial drainage of political capital.

Success in combating crime would be a major achievement for Ramos, who acknowledges that crime is eroding political stability and consequent economic gains. But the public (particularly in Manila) often perceives itself to be under siege by an uncontrollable scourge and has grown cynical of repeated attempts to restore a greater degree of “law and order.” Further threats to the well-being of the citizenry come from a regulatory apparatus that often fails to enforce basic measures of public safety. The ease with which fire and building codes can be violated (for a fee) was exposed in the wake of a March 1996 fire at a Quezon City nightclub that took the lives of more than 150 youths; similar stories emerge in the wake of ongoing maritime disasters involving the many “floating coffins” that ply interisland routes. Thousands of Leyteños drowned in 1991, when flash floods poured down from denuded slopes where logging had long been essentially unregulated, and two decades of government failure to confront those who discharge sludge from a copper mine in Marinduque has led to the massive poisoning of seabeds, rivers, and entire communities. Citizens outraged at such carnage demand a regulatory structure able to ensure their safety, but piecemeal and ad hoc responses are too rarely followed up with sustained attention to the long-term goal of strengthening the regulatory apparatus.

These political challenges to the Ramos administration come at a time when the very shape of the nation’s governing structure is being recast from top to bottom in a process as consequential on the political front as liberalization initiatives are on the economic front. In the measures of devolution mandated by the 1991 Local Government Code, the importance of the national bureaucracy is downgraded, while local mayors and governors are provided with greater autonomy and responsibility for carrying out many basic governmental functions (in such areas as health, social services, agricultural extension, and public works). Local government units are now much richer (cities and provinces are given 40 percent of internal revenue allotments, compared to only 11 percent before 1992), and they enjoy much more extensive power to raise their own revenues and even negotiate their own loans. Although many voice optimism over the possibilities for greater local control of the decision-making process, others express concern that the devolution of power to local communities has the potential merely to heighten the power of local overlords and disrupt efforts to build greater administrative capacity and consensus at the national level. Despite recent campaigns against them by Manila authorities, private armies continue to flourish throughout the provinces. The ultimate results of the devolution experiment are likely to vary considerably according to local political conditions.

The city and provincial governments of the rapidly growing island province of Cebu offer considerable hope for the success of local devolution: Officials are utilizing their new powers to strengthen their revenue base (by floating bonds, establishing joint property ventures with the private sector, tapping foreign assistance, and proposing major increases in what have long been paltry proceeds from property tax) and initiate long-needed infrastructural improvements. In large part through the mediation of the one clearly dominant political family, it has been relatively easy for Cebu to forge high levels of cooperation with the business community, and nongovernmental organizations (NGOs) have enjoyed good access to local leaders at certain points. In other areas of the country, however, local devolution is likely to have far more mixed results. For it to succeed it is necessary not only to build the strong revenue base required to support local development, but also to ensure that the assumption of greater responsibility actually provides benefits to the local community as a whole.

As is true of political reform more generally, local devolution must empower those sectors of civil society that have long been effectively disenfranchised by the formidable political, economic, and social power of the Philippine oligarchy. The Local Government Code seeks to institutionalize the participation of NGOs and so-called people’s organizations (POs), but in most cases this laudable goal has not succeeded. ₁₀ In fact, despite the profusion of NGOs and POs over the past 15 years, weaker elements of civil society have a very long way to go to achieve a greater degree of influence. Of course, development-oriented and popular organizations have in many cases succeeded in empowering communities through particular projects at the local level, and their national counterparts have often had a significant impact on policy decisions in Manila (as advocates of the environment, consumer protection, agrarian reform, gender equality, minority rights, etc.). Quite often, NGOs and POs have been able to forge effective ties with other more established elements of civil society, including the church, academe, media, and labor. Yet despite many successes on particular fronts and in particular localities, the interrelationships among such efforts remain decidedly weak in comparison to the formidable networks of power enjoyed by the traditional structures that they are confronting. Some umbrella political formations are seeking to build stronger links from the national to the local level, but there is as yet no reformist political party able to articulate comprehensively and effectively the demands of those long marginalized by the political system.

This is not to underestimate the popular empowerment that has taken place, nor to minimize the considerable changes that have occurred in the character of Philippine politics. New faces have emerged in recent elections, leading some to see a challenge to the dominance of the trapos. Because traditional ties between local patrons and their clients are undermined to the extent that clients have independent access to new outside resources, the infusion of overseas remittances into local communities becomes a significant force in reshaping long-standing political ties. In some localities, a strong NGO presence seems to be associated with voting patterns that challenge established families. At the national level, anger over electoral fraud keeps alive political reform movements whose roots can be traced to the 1950s. Economic growth puts fresh resources in new hands, and to the extent that the middle class emerges as an independent political force one can expect to see important opportunities for emancipation from the political and economic dominance of local oligarchs. Urbanization also promotes a shift from patronage-based politics to political appeals based on name recognition and media exposure; increasingly, voters approach the ballot box more as individuals than as elements of a locally organized bailiwick. In addition, a determined new group of investigative journalists has published major exposés that challenge the powerful and even force resignations of blatantly corrupt officials.

In the midst of such changes, however, much remains the same. First, members of well-established political clans continue to enjoy clear domination of such bodies as the House of Representatives, and elections are still tainted by the power of “gold, guns, and goons.” The role of the Commission on Elections does not consistently inspire confidence in the electoral process, and in any case the enormous expense of running for election serves as an effective barrier to the entrance of reformist forces into the political arena. Second, many so-called new faces often retain strong connections to old centers of power. Third, as part of the new prominence of media appeals, many of the new faces consist of basketball players and movie stars—some of whom actually manage to continue their careers even as they hold public office. Finally, as noted above, there has been little effective institutionalization of the political parties. As in earlier eras, personalities and familial power generally continue to crowd out clearly defined constituencies and careful debate of real issues.

Foreign and Military Policy: New Challenges, New Opportunities

In the post-bases era, the Philippines’ relations with the rest of the world are no longer mediated through special ties with the United States. The ensuing new realities of foreign and military policy hit home with particular clarity in February 1995, when it was discovered that the Chinese had built permanent military structures on a Philippine- claimed reef in the Spratly Islands of the South China Sea. As tensions between the two countries escalated, the military weakness of the Philippines became more apparent than ever. Foreign diplomatic support came as ASEAN foreign ministers and American officials voiced concern over Chinese actions, but the ill-equipped Philippine military was nonetheless forced to confront the possibility of additional clashes with the great power to the north. Further evidence of the country’s vulnerability in the external sphere emerges from its occasional confrontations with piracy, predicted to be a mounting security threat throughout the archipelago.

Many Philippine leaders still instinctively look to U.S. military strength for succor and lean on regional diplomatic links to counterbalance their country’s weakness vis-à-vis its neighbors. But as escalating regional tensions coincide with continuing challenges from secessionist forces in Mindanao, the country can scarcely afford to ignore its feeble military capacity. “We have an air force that can’t fly and a navy that can’t go out to sea,” declared the chair of the Senate committee on national defense and security with only slight exaggeration. “When the U.S. left us we were basically naked.” Indeed, low appropriations, poor maintenance, and internal corruption have left the military’s equipment in a state of advanced disrepair; moreover, past concentration on internal counterinsurgency functions detracted from attention to the external realm. Other countries in the region have already devoted considerable planning and resources to military modernization, but the Philippines only began providing new resources for the process in early 1995—in the midst of rising tensions in the Spratlys.

Over the next five years, nearly $2 billion may become available for military modernization, with priority going to jet fighters, patrol craft, and radar systems; over the next two decades, total expenditures may exceed $13 billion. Manila is receiving far less assistance from Washington with this task than it did in the past: Although ties based on a mutual defense treaty endure, U.S. military and economic aid was slashed by two-thirds when the bases were withdrawn in 1992. Defense officials acknowledge that they are gambling on continued economic growth to finance their modernizing effort and express fears that corruption could greatly reduce the actual acquisition of new equipment. Moreover, while current plans provide the bulk of the assistance to the navy and the air force, an escalation of tensions in Mindanao could potentially shift priorities back to the army and its role in combating internal threats. Nevertheless, the very fact that such a broad program is in place does mark a new era in Philippine defense planning.

The increasing challenge of protecting national territory is matched by a growing need to provide diplomatic support to the some 4 million Filipinos who work overseas— and whose remittances brought nearly $11 billion into the country between 1992 and 1995. The plight of overseas workers received national attention with the March 1995 decision of the Singaporean government to hang Flor Contemplacion, a Filipina who had been convicted of the murder of a Singaporean child and another Filipina. Singapore was widely perceived to have framed an innocent worker, and a strong sense of national identity emerged amid anger over the Philippine government’s failure to provide proper legal and diplomatic support to Ms. Contemplacion. Subsequent episodes of injustices perceived but unaverted have served to highlight further the incongruity of a country that depends upon the export of labor yet is often too weak to provide proper assistance to its overseas workers.

New external challenges, however, are accompanied by new external opportunities. The decline of American patronage has been an important impetus for the Philippines to give new attention to its neighbors and to regional groupings, most especially ASEAN, AFTA, APEC, and a new growth area linking Mindanao with Indonesia’s Sulawesi and Malaysia’s Sabah. Closer investment and trade ties have strengthened the country’s links with the rest of the region, promoting greater consciousness of the economic success of other countries there and heightening fears of its own falling further behind. The country’s hosting of the APEC summit in late 1996, at the Subic free port, will provide an opportunity to show off its recent economic gains (and at the same time enable international observers to make their own judgments about their future sustainability). Such occasions both expose the Philippines to new ways to promote economic goals and introduce its neighbors to distinctive Filipino viewpoints on such issues as human rights, due process, and democracy. Over the long term, it is clear that the Philippines will develop stronger links to its geographic region. Greater interaction will no doubt lead to mutual benefits.

Confronting the Crossroads

As of the mid-1990s, then, the Philippines have succeeded in surmounting important hurdles. Many troubling obstacles still lie ahead, however. Economic growth has resumed under an administration committed to liberalizing an economy long held back by unproductive patterns of entrepreneurship, but it is too early to assess its sustainability. It is difficult to instill long-term investor confidence when a high degree of arbitrariness often reigns in the political and legal spheres and kidnappings plague the personal security of important elements of the business community. Until there is greater attention to underlying institutional constraints, much of the current program of liberalization seems to rest on less-than-secure institutional and political foundations. Building and reinforcing such foundations is a very difficult and protracted process, and can only succeed with a combination of effective leadership from the top and the emergence of new forces from below that are able to challenge the long-standing oligarchic dominance of the economy. Ramos has begun to supply more effective leadership, but there is little evidence of the emergence of a strong social coalition able to sustain reform measures into subsequent administrations.

The creation of a broad pro-reform coalition would certainly be enhanced by ensuring that the benefits of economic expansion are felt by a larger element of the population. This task is made all the more urgent and difficult, however, by the historical absence of any thorough program of land redistribution; unlike South Korea and Taiwan at similar stages of their industrialization processes, the Philippines exhibits a particularly immense gulf in levels of wealth and income between the elite and the millions of Filipino workers, urban poor, and peasants below them.

Despite Ramos’s strong rhetorical commitment to reducing poverty, those at the bottom of society have yet to find much reason to cheer his economic program. The administration’s “social reform agenda” is meant to address this problem, but analysts suggest that it has yet to yield many concrete benefits for the “basic sectors” (farmers, fisherfolk, urban poor, indigenous communities, and disabled) that it is supposed to serve. ₁₁ As the country’s population continues to grow over the next generation (to perhaps 121 million by the year 2030, according to one estimate), demands for government services are sure to expand enormously in scope and complexity. Any lapses in implementation of population control programs will make it all the more difficult for future generations to construct an economy and a polity capable of ensuring a high quality of life for all.

One can certainly hope that the presence of democratic institutions might promote the eventual creation of a broad social coalition able to sustain measures of economic reform into future administrations. Yet, although democratic institutions do indeed appear to be consolidating themselves more firmly, many sectors of Philippine society remain marginal to the overall democratic process—and decidedly undemocratic forces hold sway in many localities. International observers applaud the Ramos administration’s explicit efforts to show that democracy and economic growth can go hand in hand, but Philippine-style democracy is handicapped, not only by the continuing dominance of strong oligarchic forces but also by the weak institutionalization of both its party system and its bureaucracy. If Philippine democracy is indeed going to deliver the goods, economically speaking, it will likely require thoroughgoing political reform as well as the careful nurturing of institutions more conducive to the promotion of long-range developmental goals. Moreover, it is important not to forget—as do some politicians and business leaders when occasionally tempted to resort to anti-democratic measures—that Philippine-style authoritarianism proved highly inimical to the country’s developmental efforts.

Recent Philippine experience shows, once again, that there are no shortcuts on the road to development and democracy. ₁₂ Liberalization is certainly an important first step to promoting greater international competitiveness, but without strong political and institutional foundations it will not be a sufficient response to the country’s long-standing economic woes. Devolution holds out similar hope on the political front, but the local governments must still prove themselves more capable than the national government in fulfilling the tasks they have assumed. Both measures are useful in shaking things up; the next—and more awesome—task is to put things together in a way that will promote greater prosperity and freedom for all classes of Filipinos. The Ramos administration has begun to address the new realities facing the Philippines in the 1990s; with so much yet to be done, however, this is not a time for either complacency or blind faith in simple solutions.

I would like to thank the following persons for comments that contributed to this Asian Update: David Timberman, Tony Abad, Jose Almonte, Noel de Dios, Jaime Faustino, Jim Goodno, Gary Hawes, and Joel Rocamora. Responsibility for any errors or omissions, of course, is mine alone.

Endnotes

Note 1: Joel Rocamora, Breaking Through (Metro Manila: Anvil Publishing, Inc., 1994), pp. 173, 192-93; Alex Magno, “The Market Consensus,” Far Eastern Economic Review, August 10, 1995, p. 31. Back.

Note 2: Rafael B. Buenaventura (president of the Bankers Association of the Philippines), “At the Forefront of Change,” Fookien Times Philippines Yearbook 1994, p. 180. Back.

Note 3: Extrapolated from data presented in Jude Esguorra, “A Report on the Economy at the Homestretch,” IPD Political Brief, July 1996. On the dominance of low value-added exports, see also Raul Fabella et al., “1995: A Tale of Two Semesters,” Philippine Export Confederation Policy Paper, February 1996, pp. 11-14. Back.

Note 4: Guillermo Luz, executive director of the Makati Business Club, commenting on a July 1995 survey of major corporate executives. Philippine Daily Inquirer, August 28, 1995. Back.

Note 5: “Western intelligence sources” estimate 40,000 soldiers; the MILF itself claims to be 120,000 strong. See Rigoberto Tiglao, Far Eastern Economic Review, March 28, 1996, pp. 26-29. Back.

Note 6: See Philippine Daily Inquirer, July 26 and 27, 1996. Additional details were forthcoming in subsequent weeks and are analyzed by Amando Doronila in the August 4 and August 18 Inquirer. Back.

Note 7: Joel Rocamora, “The Political Requirements of Economic Reform,” Issues and Letters 4 (October 1995): 1-4; “Is the Ramos Government Unravelling?,” Politik 2 (February 1996): 48-50; and “Unnatural Disasters” Politik 2 (May 1996): 46-48. Back.

Note 8: Clarence G. Pascual, “The Proposed Tax Reform Package,” Issues and Letters 5 (April 1996): 1. Back.

Note 9: See A. Lin Neumann, “Who Loves Lucio?,” Asia Inc., August 1996, pp. 21-26, and Rigoberto Tiglao, “Tan Triumphant,” Far Eastern Economic Review, September 26, 1996, pp. 60-66. Back.

Note 10: See Emil P. Bolongaita, Jr., “Rethinking Participatory Governance: The Non- Institutionalization of Local Development Councils in the Philippines,” Asian Institute of Management Policy Forum, Policy Research Paper No. 2 (Makati, 1996). Back.

Note 11: Edmund Martinez, “Fidel Ramos’ Unfinished Business,” Politik 2 (February 1996): 39-40. Back.

Note 12: To paraphrase the title of Goran Hyden’s No Shortcuts to Progress: African Development Management in Perspective (Berkeley and Los Angeles: University of California Press, 1983). Back.