PNOy Inaugural address
YEAR AGO this week, on 30 June 2010, Benigno Simeon Aquino III, known as “Noynoy,” was sworn in as president of the Philippines. He came to power with a sense of destiny derived, above all, from his parents. His father, Benigno “Ninoy” Aquino, was gunned down on the tarmac of the Manila airport when he returned to the Philippines in August 1983 to lead the opposition against dictator Ferdinand Marcos. His mother, Corazon Cojuangco Aquino, became the iconic leader of a Yellow Revolution that captivated the world. Thrust into the presidency upon the downfall of Marcos in the People Power uprising of February 1986, she remained a widely respected figure in Philippine politics until her death from cancer in August 2009.
This sense of destiny figured prominently in Noynoy’s inaugural speech last June. “I will not be able to face my parents and you who have brought me here,” he proclaimed, “if I do not fulfil the promises I made. My parents sought nothing less, died for nothing less, than democracy and peace. I am blessed by this legacy. I shall carry the torch forward.”
As everyone in the crowd was aware, the torch of leadership wouldn’t have been in Noynoy’s hands if not for the legacy of his parents. No one seriously considered him a presidential prospect until his mother’s death less than twelve months before the inauguration, when an outpouring of grief and nostalgia propelled him into the race – and eventually into the presidential palace, with the most decisive electoral margin of the post-Marcos years. When the father was assassinated at age fifty, many speculated regretfully as to what more he might have accomplished had he lived on. When the son assumed the presidency at age fifty, after a notably lacklustre record as a legislator, many speculated hopefully that there were many important accomplishments to come.
One year on, opinion polls still register strong public approval and trust ratings for the president. He continues to enjoy a strong mandate for
This sense of destiny figured prominently in Noynoy’s inaugural speech last June. “I will not be able to face my parents and you who have brought me here,” he proclaimed, “if I do not fulfil the promises I made. My parents sought nothing less, died for nothing less, than democracy and peace. I am blessed by this legacy. I shall carry the torch forward.”
As everyone in the crowd was aware, the torch of leadership wouldn’t have been in Noynoy’s hands if not for the legacy of his parents. No one seriously considered him a presidential prospect until his mother’s death less than twelve months before the inauguration, when an outpouring of grief and nostalgia propelled him into the race – and eventually into the presidential palace, with the most decisive electoral margin of the post-Marcos years. When the father was assassinated at age fifty, many speculated regretfully as to what more he might have accomplished had he lived on. When the son assumed the presidency at age fifty, after a notably lacklustre record as a legislator, many speculated hopefully that there were many important accomplishments to come.
One year on, opinion polls still register strong public approval and trust ratings for the president. He continues to enjoy a strong mandate for