Imee Marcos
Filipinas, November 1999
by Marites N. Sison

Maria Imelda "Imee" Marcos strives hard to be ordinary. She comes to the interview in gray tank tops and black cargo pants, applies her own make-up and suggests lunch at Le Couer de France, a café catering to Manila's upper middle class, in Shangri-La Plaza. "Sa mall ha, hindi sa hotel," she instructs the driver, saying hotel cafes make her sleepy. She asks if she can be photographed in her informal wear, saying she purposely didn't bring suits because they make her feel "dorky." She talks about how she once had a catch-all bag like yours until she found one with many compartments that was more compact. "Here," she says showing her black shoulder bag - a Prada. She talks incessantly about the latest fashion and about Filipinos who have made it big in the fashion world. It's her way of bonding with a woman. You can't stop thinking that her parents have taught her well.

The first child of the Philippines' most famous or infamous (depending on one's political convictions) couple - former President Ferdinand Marcos and former first lady Imelda Marcos - Imee came home last year after 13 years in exile. She was immediately fielded as congressional candidate for the first district of Ilocos Norte, her late father's bailiwick and home province. She won.

At 44, Imee is a single mother to three sons by former sportsman Tommy Manotoc. The most outspoken of the Marcos children, she talks about trying hard to get used to all the trappings of power once more. She points to her three bodyguards (two males, one female) - a necessity, she says, because the New People's Army has just announced that it was seeking retribution against her and her family for past misdeeds committed by her late father and his henchmen. She, herself had lost a case filed by the mother of a human rights victim before the district court of Hawaii. The victim, a Manila student, was said to have been summarily executed shortly after he humiliated Imee with a stinging question during a forum. The case is on appeal.

Former Commission on Good Government (PCGG) Chair Jovito Salonga says it was one of the reasons why Imee had to leave the U.S. for Morocco. It's something that Imee herself doesn't mention during the interview when asked why she had to leave while her family stayed behind in Hawaii.

Like her father, Imee gives insightful but very long responses to questions. But unlike her father and mother, who have a tendency to drone, she enunciates well in her melded British/American/Tagalog/Singaporean accent and is very expressive.

In this interview with Filipinas, Imee talks about coming home to a people that overthrew her father's regime. She recalls the past and expresses strong convictions about her family, and basically just bares herself for everyone to judge.

Filipinas Magazine: How are you adjusting to your new life as legislator and single mom?

Imee Marcos: The single mom part I've been dealing with for a while now. Congress is a whole different lifestyle. Somebody told me long ago that I would have more problems adjusting to repatriation than expatriation. I thought it was absurd at the time, but it makes perfect sense to me now. Many things about your own country you assume you understand what's going on. But, in fact, it's again a foreign country. Anyway, since 1986, lipat kami ng lipat (we moved constantly) and now, I'm back here. It's a big change for all of us, my children as well.

FM: Are you glad to be back?

IM: In many ways it's very comfortable to be back. It's fun to speak Tagalog again. I have a weakness for the latest Tagalog slang. I think it's very vibrant, very entertaining language.

But there are many, many things that bother me. I find it extremely difficult to get any work done, maybe because I was living in Singapore which is a workaholic society. You know how it is here - first of all, your efficiency is cut down tremendously by traffic and pollution; traffic taking up most of your day. We take so much for granted, if you can get through the telephone to x number of people - and by the way, they don't return calls either (laughs) - you've done a full work. And pollution just takes in my asthma and allergies. I spend a lot of time not being too well. But that's the downside. The fun part, of course, is seeing everyone that you grew up with - lots of relatives and classmates I hadn't seen in years.

FM: Do the kids like it here?

IM: I don't know that they like it here. It's very, very confined existence for them, and one that they're not used to. They used to take public transport all over the place in Singapore, and if they wanted to watch movies with friends they'd just jump on the bus or take the subway. Not anymore. They have to organize the car and the security and the driver and blah, blah, blah. I assume it's very tedious for them, although they've been holding up quite well.

FM: You described yourself as a reluctant candidate for Congress. Why did you run?

IM: It was largely a duty-based decision. They couldn't come up with another candidate in Ilocos Norte, and when my brother was campaigning, I was asked to pitch in. It's pretty miserable agriculturally in Ilocos province. It's been very much abandoned, and public investment in infrastructure has been so low in Northwestern Luzon. Like my family, they're entirely out of fashion, so for 12 years, nothing went that way. I felt duty bound to do something about it. The political system dictates that you only have five years per term. I more or less signed on as a six-year contract because you can't achieve anything in three years. In your first year, you're still learning. In your second year, you kind of have an idea. The third year, you have to run again. It's not a very intelligent set-up but when they do take in all these constitutional amendment provisions, all will be dealt with.

FM: You don't regret having responded to duty, as you put it?

IM: It's an educational experience, that's for sure. I'm not certain that it's good for my personal and family life. I hope I'm able to contribute something. The process is really exhausting because the wheels and cogs are just so slow. Ultimately, I'm not certain about this process I'm not sure if it's the best place for me to be.

Lawmaking is a very distinguished sort of effort. But on the other hand, law enforcement is so miserable in the Philippines; there are so many laws that aren't enforced, not implemented and it's frustrating.

FM: Looking back to where you were 13 years ago (the Edsa revolution), did you think all of this was going to be possible - of not just being able to come home but actually getting elected into office?

IM: Strangely, you see, I didn't stay in the United States for the duration of exile. I was in the U.S. for only a few months which was in many, many ways lucky for me because I got a more historical perspective on the whole period. That is to say, I went to Morocco and Portugal, which were packed with exiles. I don't compare myself to aristocracy in any way, but a lot of them had this experience. There were former prime ministers, there were a lot of ex-presidents from South America. It was very common, almost normal situation. As a result, I had a very sort of soldierly attitude because they said, "You're going back anyway. This is just period you have to go through."

FM: Those years in exile, what did you learn from them?

IM: There are very valuable lessons. Ctully, pana-panahon lang 'yan (it's just timing). And true enough, we're back. I wasn't sure I wanted to come back because I was so worried about security. You hear all these dreadful stories bout kidnapping, and I have three sons. And I'm very recognizable, unfortunately. So, I have a very different outlook on exile from my mother, my brother and my sister who were stuck in the U.S. Ibang-iba ang utak namin (We're of totally different mindsets) about the whole thing. I think I was more accepting, and they were very much in the eye of the storm. I was quite removed from it. We lived more or less in splendid isolation in Morocco. It was very lonely but very luxurious. There was very little news that actually filtered through so you wre allowed to reflect and be mindful of your situation in a way that I think they weren't allowed to.

FM: That thoughts came to your mind during the final day of the revolution when you and your family were fleeing Malacañang?

IM: We never thought we had to leave the country. And I was quite certain it would be temporary. The notion was just to go to Ilocos and them plan from there. It sounds very naïve (laughs) but that's the truth. We thought we'd go to Ilocos and sort things out. And then, of course, the whole American thing came in. Your market's America, I will not help sell your magazine (laughs).

FM: What made you decide to come home after all these years?

IM: There was a very realistic aspect to it - it was so expensive in Singapore. I started sending them to the English school, which was a major mistake. They should have been sent to a local school. Then it would have been ten bucks or something. Although Singapore is good because its not white; it's another Asian society and you can, theoretically, disappear into the crowd, hindi naman sali Instik eh (they weren't Chinese). So, you ended up living in an expat world in many ways but very comfortable, cushy world in many ways but a very unattractive one. I don't like non-rooted people; it bothers me. You have to have a national identity. On the other hand, I'm very grateful to have lived elsewhere. And my kids are definitely the original global, 21st century millennial kids. My second son started speaking Arabic. We didn't have a clue what he was saying, it was all in Moroccan. The eldest first went to school in French; his best friends were Spanish and when they went to Singapore they had Indonesian and Chinese friends. I think they're well-suited to the future.

FM: When reference is made by media - both local and international - of your father as dictator; when your family is called all sorts of names, does that bother you or have you grown quite immune to it?

IM: Of course, it bothers me. On a certain level I agree, and on many, many other more serious levels, I think it's just a cheap label, so I don't listen. Somebody said you could get used to anything. The press is certainly one of those things I've had to get used to.

FM: Has it reached a point where you wish you'd never been born a Marcos; that the burden was too heavy to carry?

IM: It's been convenient to use my married name. We have huge legal problems; we have 417 cases here in the Philippines still. We have Cases still pending in the United States as well as I think in Switzerland. But while it's extremely inconvenient, I'm very, very proud to be a Marcos. I would never drop it.

FM: What makes you proud of it?

IM: I think of roads and bridges, for example, or school buildings - very simple basic countryside infrastructure. You go from Bicol to Davao or make a big trip to Mindanao, many of the national arterial roads were built by my father. The irrigation was maintained and originally constructed by my father. I think that's why we got re-elected in the first place. You can see today how little - aside from those extremely difficult five flyovers in the heart of Manila causing major traffic and pollution, not to speak of hazards - how little has actually been built that's meaningful to the rural economy.

Secondly, working in Congress, I'm deeply aware that so many of the laws are those he enacted, whether dictatorially or not, whatever the judgment of history. So many of the laws have been proven to be good laws because they haven't been removed. I don't have any sense of having to be defensive or having to be an apologist for his regime. I continue to be extremely proud my father's legacy. It's very interesting in the committee, where you actually do the drafting of the law, how difficult it is to write this stuff, and he was just churning them out. We used to joke that Malacañang t a certain point became a PD mill because presidential decrees (PD) were being churned at a rate of almost one an hour. We were only half-joking, of course, because there were so many of them and they covered every issue under the sun.

FM: You were quoted as saying that as far as you're concerned, your family doesn't need to seek forgiveness from the Filipino people because you don't think anything wrong was ever done or that there's nothing to atone for.

IM: There's that silly thing that the press keeps carrying on that you have to say sorry or something. Well, it's a misquote. My brother was lambasted for it. Actually it was more my brother than me. Basically, my attitude was wit for the court's verdict because so many things are still pending in court. First, because it's all sub justice it's illegal to be talking about all this stuff, anyway. Let's find out what the court thinks because they probably can tell you much better. I'm very much an interested party. I can't really give you a detached view. So, I say, until there's an outcome, it's probably better not to talk about apologizing yet. Of course, it came out totally wrong. Anyway, that's their problem, not ours.

FM: During your father's 21 years in power, you're utterly convinced that he never did the country any wrong?

IM: No, I'm not stupid. Or, I am stupid, but not that stupid (laughs). It's very hard to second-guess these kinds of things, but I know many, many things were wrong. On the other hand, one also has to be somewhat objective and realize that there were also serious achievements made. I think that the press is the primary culprit in only saying the bad things, whether it's for circulation and whatever agenda. The point is, it would be nice one day to get a balanced view. I think it's coming. The books that have come out continue to be vitriolic in tone, maybe, but there re those that are more academic in approach. I've actually seen a couple that in the main I agree with. So, things change. For example, despite the headlines, when I go to universities I'm very happy to see that the kids in campus are very open. They didn't live through the times that are being discussed; they're much more open to talking, The questions they ask are "What really happened?" Not like the older ones - it's all bad. "You're all crooks, you stole this and that, you killed so-and-so." I don't like to use the word "forgiving." I would like the facts to stand on their own. In general, I feel that the population has become very apolitical.

FM: Whatever happened to your love for movies?

IM: I was producing from time to time. But that's very tricky. People are very threatened. They think you're going to buy the TV station from under them. They don't actually believe you can just be a hack. I have pending bills in Congress about the film industry. It's a very beleaguered industry. Of course, many of these problems are self-inflicted, but in spite of that, it's like every national movie industry throughout the world. It can't compete in the face of widespread and well-financed competitors. It's impossible. I just sponsored a bill for the film development and incentives board for quality films to be given a break in amusement tax. We have a hugely-taxed cinema - 30 percent of the ticket is only tax. In Singapore, if you went into film, five years you're tax-free. Plus, you can avail of soft loans and grants. They're very aware that it's the next millennium. It's the next thing.

FM: So the passion remains.

IM: Yeah. My mom says I'm a purveyor of popular entertainment. I really like that stuff. She's very much the Cultural Center. I'm always telling her, for example, that the amusement tax is a regressive tax because it's taxing the poor who watch P35-50 for a film. Some of the tax is then coursed to fund rich people who go to the Cultural Center. She'' always laughing because the truth of the matter is we need both.

FM: Of all the Marcos kids, you were perceived s the rebellious one, especially toward your mother. Is this right?

IM: I was much more outspoken. I was very outspoken about many policies of the government, among them the American presence in the Philippines. I didn't like having the American bases. I was very, very adamant and vocal about it. There were several other things. About my mother, I think I went through that basic teenage trauma with moms.

FM: Your relationship is much better now?

IM: I don't think it was ever that bad. It's just one of those phases. On the other hand, I'm not very well-informed because I only have three sons. I'm sort of limited by my experience there.

FM: Does your mother tease you about it now?

IM: Oh yeah. Endlessly. She's always kidding that she got even through her grandchildren. When my kids give me a hard time, she's always sort of fomenting the dissent with them.

FM: Was it hard for you to tell her about the break-up of your marriage?

IM: It was hard because I didn't want to tell her. I was unnerved by the whole thing. I think it was also because I had to rush because she was already being told. You don't want that to happen, di ba? Last to know kawawa naman (poor thing).

FM: She didn't say, "I told you so?"

IM: She didn't have to. She had a really hard time dealing with it. But because there were so many obvious differences, I think she wasn't surprised in the least. It's not something I'm proud of. It's very difficult for me. I like to take everything with a sense of humor, but when all is said and done, I had a hard time. It's not easy. My mother's very traditional, of course, she's very probinsiyana. This single mom stuff holds no appeal to her.

FM: How would you describe your life now compared to your years of living in Malacañang?

IM: I've always said that I was a lousy princess, anyway. I wasn't very comfortable living in Malacañang. I thought it was very confining and very formal and fixed. But, hey, I mean you didn't have to pay bills then. That was a big thing. (Laughs). I miss my father; it was nice having a man in your life, I have three small ones now. But my father was the absolute bedrock of the family. I think we continue to be at a loss as a family because he left such a huge vacuum. He was a very good father despite the lousy press. Not one of his children will tell you that he wasn't a perfect dad. The grandchildren also absolutely adored him. He was one of those people who could actually speak to newborns. This is skill. He told wonderful stories and was very patient and very physical with the children - that's what I miss about the Palace.

I finally went to the Palace dahil kay Erap (because of Erap). It's very strange. I'm very removed from the place physically although I grew up there. We were the youngest presidential kids. I turned ten the day after my dad was elected president; my sister was five. It's not necessarily the most appropriate place to bring up a kid but it was quite nice. So much of it are offices now, our bedrooms and everything, since the other presidential families chose not to live there. My father was very much a Chinaman in the sense that it was very much a shophouse. We always lived on top of the office. But I really have no nostalgia.
FM: How much are you your father's daughter and your mother's daughter?
IM: To my mind, I'm very sympathetic to my father's turn of thought. There was always this much-vaunted brilliance and intellect. He always managed to simplify problems, and I would one day like to think like that. There's this huge temptation amongst those of us who are over-educated with very over-priced educations, to over-analyze and never get to the bottom of it. I think he has this immense gift to get to the heart of the problem, beyond extremely complicated fine print provisions in an IMF document, for example, which he could actually reduce to the price of rice. Many of us who used to be called technocrats - I don't know what the favorite phraseology is at the moment - just carry on. As a result, we end up having 300 reasons not to do one thing and another 300 reasons not to do the same thing, so we end up doing absolutely nothing.

I think I'm very much my mother's daughter in that I'm fundamentally artsy-fartsy also (laughs). I think that, to a certain point, her respect for that other side of humanity is very much in my family. My brother and my sister, we're very much like that to a certain degree. We worry a great deal about what we need to read and what music we need to play and what the paintings look like. These sort of things bother us. Even on a very basic scale. If the gardener planted something badly, I'll pull it up. (Laughs). Because ultimately, it's wasteful. Do it right.

FM: What are you going to tell your kids about your father and his place in Philippine history?

IM: I tell them about my dad all the time. I think it's important; otherwise they'll get into fights all the time. Ateneo pa naman. First of all, I tell them to ask me about anything they need to know. I told them that many bad things happened and many good things happened, as well. And that if anyone says bad things to you, about you or your family, just tell them, "Give me a chance, I'm just a normal person."

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