Aquino in Boston: The dog-handler is now president

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Read the full text of President Aquino's speech before the Filipino community in Boston, where he and his family lived in exile

BOSTON, USA –  Below are the excerpts from the speech delivered by President Benigno Aquino III before the Filipino community in Boston at the Robsam Theater, Boston College, Massachusetts, on September 21, 2014:

I will have to ask your permission, Matt said he tends to talk a little too long, I normally try to remove emotionalism in my speeches, but it’s the first time I’ve been back in Boston, and I actually had several opportunities to come earlier, and I kept begging off and said, “Let me make sure that my emotions are in check before I make a homecoming.” 

It has been 31 years since I left Boston, and coming here for the first time since then brings back quite a lot of memories. It was here in Boston that I experienced my first snowfall. And for someone whose idea of cold was limited to the comfortable temperatures of Baguio, which is a popular vacation destination in the Philippines, my first Boston winter coincided with, at that time the Boston Globe reported, one of the coldest conditions and the heaviest snowfall in decades. I remember that I had to sleep in thermal underwear, to which I added a track suit put in a sleeping bag under various blankets and sheets, and which I topped with a comforter.

One typical Boston winter, our family had an influx of visitors, among them my grandmother who came to America to receive treatment for colon cancer, her accompanying contingent of relatives, and some Japanese friends of my family were all our guests at the house of 175. As you can imagine, so many people in one house meant that eventually the hot water ran out. And being part of the host, that was how I learned to take a shower in two minutes flat, using ice-cold water in the dead of winter.

It was bad enough shivering in the bath, shivering as I emerged and toweled off, and shivering as I waited for the sheets to warm. Worst of all were the times when all my shivering would be met with advertisements on TV inviting me to visit Sunny Florida, with its warm breeze and palm trees. And that campaign always came during winter. In fact, I can probably still sing the jingle right now. And of course, images of palm trees brought to mind the coconut trees of the Philippines, which look so different from the bare trees of winter. 

To those of you who remember me back then as the dog-handler, carpenter, plumber, and baggage-carrier, mechanic, driver, et cetera; as that young man who found it difficult to weather your cold winters, role in this. It gave my family a sense of normalcy to be here in what can only be described as very abnormal times back home. Every aspect of life was controlled there by the dictator. And unless you belonged to the favored few, you had very limited rights: a curfew limited the time you could be outside your home; travel abroad required official permission; and there was no such thing as free speech, or freedom of assembly. Accountable to no one but themselves, the dictator, his wife, and their cronies turned the public treasury into their private purse. Checks and balances in government were replaced by the dictator being the sole judge, jury, and executioner, giving his regime total impunity to abduct, torture, jail, and kill its critics. Is it a wonder then, that even friendships would fall under the dark shadow of the dictator? Out of fear, or an unwillingness to take any risks, many people stopped talking to us. This was the reality of our martial law.

It was here in Boston that I learned the value of introspection. I had just graduated, and had lots of time on my hands. I remember thinking then: here we are in exile, while the dictator is partying in Malacañang, raping the economy and oppressing our people. I consider my time here as amongst my most formative years, fortifying me for the continuation of the struggle, and arming me with relevant experiences.

I learned how to empathize, for instance, with our overseas workers. We missed the Philippines so much that I think it was Mrs. Norma Bucal who made kutsinta every Christmas, and since there were so many Filipinos waiting for kutsinta, it was divided by, I think, two pieces per person per year. Those who don’t know what kutsinta is, it’s a rice, it’s a treat, it’s a dessert made from rice. And I have to tell you, and it’s a confession: That up to now, whenever I see kutsinta regardless of where I am in the Philippines or elsewhere, I have to imbibe it–perhaps I was too deprived there. Anyway, my friends, a simple letter from a friend back home was a godsend, although unfortunately my friends were not the best letter writers. Still, I welcomed the respite from loneliness that their letters brought. I acquired the ability to adapt to a changing environment, which, as you can imagine, is very valuable when handling crises. I learned to cope with uncertainty, having had to constantly wonder when and if we can go back to our beloved homeland, or if we were going to be able to go back home at all.

It is perhaps fortune’s way of showing its sense of irony that I meet you exactly 42 years to the date that appears on Mr. Ferdinand Marcos’ signed declaration of Martial Law. Following that declaration, my father, who appeared on the top of the order of battle, would be a political prisoner for seven years and seven months. Today is, after all, September 21.

Lessons from Ninoy

One day in detention, while he was out jogging during his one-hour daily allotment of exercise, my dad experienced a crushing pain in his chest. The soldier assigned to him massaged his chest, and eventually the army surgeon administered a check-up, including an ECG scan. He assured my dad that what he felt was nothing more than a muscle spasm.

Some weeks later – my vague memory thinks two weeks later – the head of Army Intelligence, who also was his warden, visited dad in his cell, and grimly said, “Sir, please sit down. Please don’t be alarmed, but I have some news for you.” Lo and behold: the army surgeon who assured dad that there was nothing to worry about, had himself died of a heart attack. It was an ironic turn of events. 

Dad was then brought to the newly-opened Philippine Heart Center; the diagnosis was that he needed a coronary bypass. My father was reluctant to have the procedure done at a facility that was one of Mrs. Marcos’ pet projects, and a new one, at that. He even asked the doctors: May I know what your statistics are especially for this kind of procedure? The answer he got in return was, “Sir, we are a new hospital.” I’m not kidding. That was the actual reply. My dad and we took this to mean that the success rate of the hospital was not exactly high. 

He told the authorities that, if he can’t have the bypass abroad, then he’d rather not do the bypass at all. All the doctors in the Heart Center eventually agreed with him; and for reasons of their own, those in power granted my father’s request. Imelda Marcos visited my dad, and told him that he could leave right away.

The operation then took place in Dallas and eventually my family went to San Francisco, while my Father was recuperating after the operation. In San Francisco, while my dad was recovering, [he] asked permission to return back to the Philippines in order to finish my final year of college. After graduation, I rejoined my family who was in Boston and by that time—and here, we found a very, very warm welcome, from the Filipinos present at the time, Dr. Mario and Norma Bucal and their family, Dr. Steve and Cheri Agular, of course, my good friend JV Buenaventura, and all our other friends were truly supportive. They eased our entry into a new life, in the midst of a small community composed of professionals and students. In fact, they continue to be supportive to this day. The late Dr. Steve Agular was dragged into an attempt to slander me during our 2010 presidential elections; his widow, Tita Cheri, came out in defense of the truth. 

It was in Boston, thanks to all our friends, that my family was given a haven from the persecution of the dictatorship; it was here where we were given a sense of normalcy in what can only be described as again, very abnormal times back home. I remember the time when dad was deciding whether or not to go back to the Philippines. So many advisers, allies, and even some persons representing the Marcos regime, were giving him conflicting advice. I weighed in with my two cents, and I asked him: “Dad, why will you entrust your life and fate to someone who has never done us any kindness? Why put your life in his hands?” And as an amateur student of history, it seemed to me more logical to reenter the country in secret, rally our allies, and prepare a counter-force to challenge the dictatorship. To my mind, the most effective way, or history seems to have always told us that the only effective way of overthrowing a dictatorship was through a violent uprising. 

My father replied: “There are no victors in a civil war. How could this, after all, ameliorate our people’s suffering? No one can imagine that any good would come out of violence.” Even after all the injustice he had suffered at the hands of the dictator, dad still hoped to have a dialogue with Marcos; he hoped that at the very least Mr. Marcos would be curious enough to find out why he returned home and submit himself again to incarceration. Perhaps, the curiosity would lead to an opportunity for a dialogue.

Dad knew that the dictator was surrounded by sycophants; human nature being what it is, no one would willingly give him bad news. They would sugarcoat the situation, hoping to stay in Mr. Marcos’ good graces.

To illustrate, allow me to use another of my father’s anecdotes, and the story goes: Mr. Marcos was set to visit the central mental hospital in the Philippines. The director, eager to cozy up to the dictator, gathered all the patients for instructions. He said, “If I hold up one finger, you are to clap your hands. If I hold up two fingers, you are to clap your hands and stomp your feet. If I hold up three, clap your hands, stomp your feet, and cheer loudly for Mr. Marcos.”

And so Mr. Marcos arrives at the lobby of the hospital the following day, and upon entering, the hospital director holds up one finger. The patients of course applauded in unison. Delighted, Mr. Marcos turns to the director and says, “Mr. Director, are you the permanent director here, or are you merely assigned in an acting capacity?”

To which the reply was, “Mr. President, sadly, I am only an acting director.” Mr. Marcos then tells him, “From this moment on, you are the permanent director of this hospital.”  

They then go to the second floor. As Mr. Marcos emerges from the elevator, the director holds up two fingers, and immediately there was even a wilder applause, along with stomping of feet. Even more pleased, Mr. Marcos turns to the director. He says, “Mr. Director, do you have all the equipment you need?” 

The director then replies, “Mr. President, we are sorely lacking in equipment here, and would greatly appreciate it if you could help us out.” Mr. Marcos then says, “Consider it done.” 

They go onward, and on the third floor. As you might expect, the director holds up three fingers, and there was thunderous applause, the stomping of feet, and the patients cheered and heaped praises on the dictator. Except for one man who stood quietly in a corner, during the entire time he was there.

Noticing this, Mr. Marcos asks the director, “Mr. Director, who is that person over there?” To which the director responds, “Mr. President, please excuse him. That person has been totally cured and is on his way home, he is not a patient of this institution anymore.”

But all jokes aside, dad truly believed that if he could gain a few minutes of Mr. Marcos’ time, there would be a chance to speak frankly and honestly, and tell him the real score, the real situation of the country, which was already dire in those days.

I do remember, in my youth, watching a video of the New People’s Army, the communist armed element in the Philippines, ambushing two truckloads of Philippine soldiers. Imagine the control of the NPA in that particular area: they managed to bring along a foreign news crew to film the entire thing, from beginning to end, while making sure that that particular ambush was done in broad daylight, since night vision equipment had not yet been developed for media, especially at that time.

This was not the only problem. Besides the communist insurgency, and besides the Muslim secessionists, the moderate center was also beginning to lose hope. The “Light a Fire” movement, the April 6 Liberation Movement committed random acts of arson and bombings around Metro Manila during martial law. The country was in a very dangerous place. Dad believed it necessary to communicate this to Mr. Marcos, hoping that if he listened, there would be a way to avert a civil war whose end no one could foresee. Dad decided to return home. 

Bad news

In the early morning hours of August 21, 1983, I was watching CNN waiting to see if they had any news about dad’s arrival. I will never forget the face of the reporter when he said that, upon the arrival of opposition leader Benigno Aquino, shots were heard, and he was seen lying in a pool of blood. This most unexpected news was such a shock that I lost all sensation, and lost track of space and time until the phone rang. I scrambled to get to the phone before any of my sisters or my mother, all of whom were upstairs, could answer it. It was a Filipino-American friend from the West Coast, and by her somber tone, I immediately knew something was wrong, but she wouldn’t tell me anything. When I got upstairs, I found them all awake, and also tuned on to the news, knowing nothing definite, waiting for messages from friends and allies.

Then our doorbell rang. At the door was the Japanese Consul at the time, Mr. Takeo Iguchi, a friend of my father since the 60s. A Japanese reporter and friend of my father’s named Kiyoshi Wakamiya was aboard the plane when my father was shot; and before heading back to Japan from Manila, Mr. Wakamiya was able to contact Mr. Shintaro Ishihara, who is and was a senior politician in Tokyo and also a long-time family friend. Mr. Ishihara then contacted Consul Iguchi who was in Boston, asking him to render any comfort and assistance he could to our family.

This was one of our family’s lowest points. As the only son, I felt an overwhelming urge to exact an eye for an eye. Mr. Marcos and his ilk were like rabid dogs who had lost all reason. There was no longer any potential for dialogue; the only solution when confronted by a rabid dog is to put it down. I knew that he was a formidable foe, and the fight would be impossible, but regardless of this, in those moments, all I wanted to do to Mr. Marcos and his camp, was to do unto him as he had done unto us.

Then Consul Iguchi said to me: Your people will be looking up to your mother and yourself. And it was there that the idea began to take root, that you cannot make decisions just for yourself.

With my father gone, what little hope we had seemed to dwindle even more. We thought: Was this struggle one that could be won? Will we ever see the fruition of all the sacrifices of all those who have given so much for us to return to our democracy? Upon our return in Manila, we were overwhelmed by the tens of thousands of people patiently waiting to pay their respects to dad. It was such a marked contrast to the earlier years of Martial Law, when people who up to then had proclaimed undying loyalty to my father, suddenly pretended we didn’t exist. After dad died, people stopped caring if they would be declared subversives, the label Marcos gave to anyone he didn’t like, and for which people could be jailed based on his interpretation of the anti-subversion law.

I believe my father was quoting from the Bible when he said, “If the time is not right, a thousand prophets will not make a difference. But if the time is right, not even a single prophet will be needed.” He was proven right. Dad’s death started a new movement for change. Mr. Marcos, certain that he could rig the results, called for snap elections in 1986. But news that my mother was being cheated out of her mandate ignited the rightful indignation of a people, which culminated in the EDSA People Power Revolution.

Having witnessed EDSA, I pondered: How could anyone question that God really had such a beautiful plan for the Filipino people? Prayers and rosaries faced the artillery, tanks, air assets, and massed soldiers of the dictatorship. So much could have gone wrong at any time. The Marines sent to face the people at EDSA were untested recruits; they were actually still under training and they were still in their training uniforms, not yet full-fledged Marines. They were not provided food or water by their commanders, somebody forgot to do that. On top of that, they were told that amongst the people massed in EDSA, there were infiltrators by the so-called Alex Boncayao Brigade, the communist hit squads, who were targeting or waiting for the opportunity to target them. Out of fear, thirst, hunger, or surging adrenaline, these Marines could have snapped at any time; a single shot would have ignited a massacre, and it would have started our civil war. Still, God looked after our people, the dictatorship was toppled, and my mother was catapulted to the presidency by our people. 

For me, the time my family spent in Boston will always be linked to the revolution that reclaimed democracy and our national dignity. The solidarity we felt from Boston College and the community here was a precursor of the solidarity displayed by the millions of Filipinos who massed in EDSA. It is, indeed, an understatement to say that Boston is close to my family’s heart. 

My younger sister, Victoria or Viel, finished her college here. I spent a lot of time at the Church of St. Ignatius when I had questions that seemingly didn’t have answers and when I had pleas. Somehow, after hearing mass or just praying, I felt there was a bit of an answer as to the imponderables that I was trying to comprehend.

To Fr. Leahy, and the entire Boston College family, on behalf of my family and the Filipinos who have studied and worked here, I thank you for the welcome you have given all of us, in this home away from home. I must also express my deepest appreciation to Boston College for renaming the Asian American Scholarships after my parents in 2010. Mom and dad placed a very high premium on education. They believed that a person can be famous one day, and a nobody the next; he can be rich today, and penniless tomorrow. But education is a permanent resource; once you have it, you can never lose it. I remember my father stating that there were two things he wanted most of all: to preserve our good name, and to ensure that we would learn the value of a good education.

All of you who are students here bear the hopes and dreams of your families and communities. You face the challenge of balancing your academics with the Ignatian challenge of being a man or a woman for others, of going beyond yourselves and truly being God’s light in the world. Again, it was my father who most profoundly articulated this challenge to me. On one occasion, I asked him, “If we are the ones fighting for what is right, why are our numbers seem really so few?” His reply: “The most basic freedom is the freedom from hunger, and until that is resolved, everything else becomes irrelevant; political freedoms are nothing but mere afterthoughts to a people deprived of food on the table.”

Now, with a mandate from our people, I have been given the opportunity to apply this idea, and help our country recover from its lost decade under the previous administration. Together with the rest of the hardworking men and women of our government and our people, I have been tasked, again by my bosses—our people—to turn things around. Allow me to share some of the changes that have taken place in the Philippines. 

What the son has done

As some of you might have heard, big strides have been made on the economic front. From 2006 to 2009, average growth was at 4.3 percent, and this was largely consumer-driven, fuelled by the remittances of overseas workers who had lost hope in the motherland. This made the economy vulnerable to both internal and external shocks; this is why, since taking office in 2010, we have worked to foster sustainability, by rebalancing our economy towards investments. The good news is that capital is indeed coming in at an unprecedented rate. For example: 42 percent of all approved investments by our Philippine Economic Zone Authority came only within the four years of our administration, while the other 58 percent took fifteen years to accumulate.

Since 2010, our economy has been growing at an average of 6.3 percent, and last year, we posted an economic growth of 7.2 percent, making us one of the fastest growing economies in our part of the world. The World Economic Forum Competitiveness Report had us recording a 33-place jump from 85th in 2010 to 52nd in 2014, the biggest improvement by any country in that particular time frame.

The three major credit ratings agencies, namely Fitch, Moody’s, and Standard & Poor’s, also upgraded us to investment grade in 2013 for the first time, and with continuously positive evaluations coming at a time of conservatism from ratings agencies, in response to the turbulent global economy. These upgrades have two major benefits for our country: first, the cost of borrowing has been reduced, allowing us to funnel into and unto social services and other key sectors the funds that otherwise would have been used to pay interest. Second, the ratings reinforce the fact that the Philippines is a safe bet in terms of investments. We have cut the fiscal deficit nearly in half, retired old debt, and obtained far better terms for new loans. With risks reduced, the Philippines is indeed even more open for business, and investments are flocking to our shores, as our commitment to fighting corruption and ensuring a level playing field becomes more evident. To be honest, there are times when the level of confidence surrounding the Philippines surprises me. A few days ago, during our visit to Europe, a senior official from a major international bank suggested that we consider globalizing the peso. While that suggestion certainly took me aback, it also drove home a point: money after all is a paper representation of value. That official’s suggestion was tantamount to saying that the peso, and consequently, the Philippines was stable and worthwhile to invest in. It was not too long ago when we were touted as the “Sick Man of Asia”; today, the confidence of the world extends even to our currency. Truly, so much has changed. 

This holds true for corruption as well. We used to think that the powerful and well-connected were beyond the long arm of the law. That is no longer the case. The straight and righteous path for these people will lead straight to jail. Since 2010, the chief justice of our Supreme Court then was impeached for considering himself above the law, and is now facing charges in the regular courts. A former president and three incumbent senators are in detention, all of them facing charges of plunder.

Government-owned corporations that used to run deeply in the red are once again contributing to the nation’s coffers. Before our time, the annual remittances from these government owned-and-controlled corporations averaged P9 billion a year; under our watch, the average is now P27.4 billion a year. Tax collections have registered an estimated increase of P40 billion each year since we’ve been in to office. Might I emphasize that this happened without our imposing new taxes, except for the so-called sin taxes, whose proceeds fund public health. Reform in tax administration was also implemented; we asked everyone to carry their fair share of the tax burden, as provided for by our existing laws. Even in that once most hopelessly corrupt of agencies, our Bureau of Customs, collections are up 19.5 percent compared to last year, thanks to the reforms that have been instituted and the dedication of civil servants who sacrificed much in order to pitch in and clean up Customs.

Another success story: Through the combination of reforms and strict adherence to competitive bidding, the Department of Public Works and Highways was able to save P27.79 billion from July 2010 to May 2014. These savings are used to fund the next phases of their respective projects approved by Congress; this only means that government is getting more bang for its buck. Our annual budget for infrastructure has already allowed our Public Works Department to finance a wide range of projects, including the construction or repair of 12,184 kilometers of roads nationwide, amongst other major infrastructure works.

Our eight solicited public-private partnership projects outnumber those of the past three administrations combined, and there is a marked difference in the way we are doing business with investors. Before our time, government had to promise investors all sorts of very onerous commitments and lopsided arrangements just to generate interest in these public private partnerships. Today, the roles have been reversed: Investors offer our government, and therefore our people, premiums to make their individual bids more competitive. Government is now being paid to give investors the authority to build the infrastructure that the Philippines needs.

We used to think that in times of need, we could only rely on each other because government was far away, slow to act, and if not indifferent, then incapable of assisting us during tough times. Today, government is proactive. We know that our people, given the right opportunity, will always excel. And we are capitalizing on this, investing in the Filipino people so that they are empowered to make the most of the opportunities present in the Philippines today.

For instance, the reach of healthcare has been expanded, not only in terms of numbers, but also in the kinds of diseases that people can receive treatment for: from more common illnesses, to catastrophic illnesses such as leukemia and breast cancer.

Our Expanded Conditional Cash Transfer program is based on the principle that partnerships work best. 4.1 million poor Filipino families have committed to vaccinating their children, keeping them in school, and sending pregnant mothers to regular check-ups. In turn, government provides them with cash grants, which help fund basic needs. We have also been able to expand the program to cover beneficiaries up to the age of 18. This decision is based on a study, which revealed that high school graduates earn 40 percent more than someone who only attended the elementary level. 

We have raised the standards of public education, which includes expanding basic education from 10 years to 12, while closing our inherited backlog in 2010 of 61.7 million textbooks, 2.5 million school seats, and 66,800 classrooms.

Our Technical Education and Skills Development Authority has likewise increased the options available to our people through training and vocational courses, while working with the private sector to match skills to real job opportunities. From July 2010 to June 2014, 632,105 graduates benefited from the Training for Work Scholarship Program of TESDA. When TESDA did an impact evaluation study in 2013, it showed that 68.5 percent of the program’s graduates in 2012 were employed within an average of six months after graduation, this is a far cry from the 28.5 percent placement rate recorded before we came into office. While we are happy with this vast improvement, we are not satisfied, and we continue to strive to find employment for the rest of our TESDA graduates.

Our efforts to ensure that no Filipino is left behind have already borne fruit: 1.65 million more Filipinos hold jobs in April 2014, compared to April of 2013. From the first semester of 2012 to the same period in 2013, 2.5 million Filipinos have risen above the poverty line. And we are not satisfied; government continues to work to ensure that citizens not only surpass the poverty line and find gainful employment, but also are shielded from once again falling below it. 

A stable and peaceful environment is necessary for the Filipino people to thrive and for the Philippines to realize its full potential as a competitive destination for investments. This is why my administration has sought an end to decades of conflict in Mindanao, the southernmost part of our country. As you may have heard: our efforts to foster peace and inclusiveness in Mindanao are now bearing fruit. This is a region that has been beset by conflict since the late 1960s, and the path to regaining the trust amongst stakeholders was not easy.

When we were at loggerheads in the peace negotiations in 2011, I asked if the leaders of the Moro Islamic Liberation Front were open to personally meet with me. I believed that a face-to-face meeting would do much to reestablish trust in the peace talks. They were very receptive, and so I brought some cabinet members with me to Japan, where we met with the MILF leaders under Chairman Murad. My persistent critics questioned this decision. They found it un-presidential; they said I was demeaning my office by meeting with the rebels, and there was no guarantee for success.

It was, for me, a question of personal risk against potential national gain; any chance to advance the national agenda pretty much overwhelmed any personal risk it might entail. I am glad we took that risk, which engendered trust between stakeholders, and created a breakthrough in the process. By October of 2012, a Framework Agreement on the Bangsamoro had been signed, followed by a conclusive Comprehensive Agreement on the Bangsamoro in March of 2014. Right before leaving Manila almost two weeks ago, we submitted to Congress a draft law set to shape a new, more hopeful future for Mindanao. The task now is to ensure that the people of the Bangsamoro, who have been left in the margins for so long, are given a significant boost up in terms of development and empowerment, so that they may be able to catch up with the rising tide of progress that is lifting the country. 

Finally, we are fighting to make ourselves more resilient to climate change, which is all the more important given the new normal of increasingly intense typhoons visiting the Philippines. Our scientists have been given the tools to more accurately predict the onset and projected paths of storms; through investments on new Doppler radars and the mapping of our watershed areas and vulnerable communities, we can model expected flooding. The result: a forewarned citizenry, and a government able to give timely warnings and updates to the people on what to expect. The Philippine government today prepositions relief goods and equipment, allowing relief operations to take place at the soonest possible time. All levels of government involved in disaster response now coordinate with each other in a more efficient manner.

Dealing with crisis

In November of last year, a typhoon named Haiyan, internationally,  devastated 44 out of the Philippines’ 81 provinces. It was, according to some, the strongest typhoon to ever make landfall in recorded history. Without the help of our friends in the international community, the path to recovery and rehabilitation would not have been traversed as early and as efficiently. To all my countrymen here today and to the organizations you belong to and represent, I know that many of you here, including our host Boston College, raised funds and sent material help to the Yolanda survivors. I would like to thank you for your generosity and kindness.

Truly, it is this same compassion that is the core of the Filipino, and that remains a shining example of the best that humanity has to offer. It is the same sense of community that welcomed us and allowed my family some warmth and light so many years ago, when the darkness of the dictatorship threatened to overwhelm us. It is the same sense of solidarity that characterized EDSA all those years ago, and that moved the Filipino people to end corruption and impunity, by giving all of us a chance, with  a mandate for change in 2010.

Our achievements thus far are merely the beginning of a new era of transformation. We are at the threshold of sustained, positive change in our society; we have corrected the inefficiencies in government, stopped the wrong practices, and engendered a shift in the Filipino mindset, from one of indifference and despair, to one where we can dream again, and are increasingly being given the wherewithal to fulfill our dreams. Now, we will be building on what we have already achieved, starting from a higher plane, towards a situation where the full potential of our people will be unlocked and harnessed. And I know that if we hold fast, and keep on the straight path, then the transformation in Philippine society can become an enduring mainstream of justice, inclusiveness, and empowerment.

Allow me to close with a little nostalgia. During her visit to Boston at the springtime of Filipino democracy in 1986, mom said to the communities here and I quote, “I wish you many splendid autumn memories this winter.” I echo this today, in saying: May the memories you build here be warmed by the affections of Filipinos who, like me, found in Boston home, kindness, and kinship. Who knows, perhaps next winter or sooner, on a lighter note, I will see you in the Philippines. Thanks to reforms by our Civil Aviation Authority, the U.S. Federal Aviation Administration has restored our Category 1 status, allowing more flights to and from the Philippines by our own carriers. It has never been easier to go to the Philippines. I promise you that Boston baked beans might not be present but they will not be missed, because you will be enjoying halo-halo with its own sweet beans in shaved ice. And you will be consuming the same while sitting in one of our beautiful beaches under our tropical sun. For as any event with Filipinos, such as this one, reveals, there is a basic truth about our country: it’s more fun in the Philippines. – Rappler.com

(These are excerpts from the speech delivered by President Benigno Aquino III before the Filipino community in Boston at the Robsam Theater, Boston College, Massachusetts, on September 21, 2014)

 

 

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