Good morning, coup attempt

Or is it a coup attempt?

It’s probably the worst time to stage such an event, with everybody in school or at work. I got out of the library and some were already asking others whether school would be suspended. I am writing this, however, from an Internet café near campus.

Being caught off-guard, is probably the worst feeling. This morning, however, I was told that the government is in a high alert in anticipation of something like this – and it did happen. Senator Antonio Trillanes IV, along with Brigadier General Danilo Lim and other soldiers in the Magdalo trial, walked out of the courts and went to the Manila Peninsula. Six hours later – just as I write – the standoff is over.

So maybe the right term is a standoff.

The first text messages arrive

Danggay sent me the first text message about the so-called coup attempt. Asking for confirmation, I merely said that there was, pending reports from the radio.

The government-run FM station in Manila, Business Radio, aired an item about it on their hourly bulletin but immediately switched to reports on government programs. The first tirade I heard – since my phone only has FM radio – was from 101.9 For Life! talking about the effects of electing Trillanes. Political commentary in between canned laughter.

Everybody is still asking about whether classes are suspended, much more with finals week looming. The thought of school requirements is still unavoidable. While consulting with Sir Mariano about our just-approved thesis, Miss Diaz remarked about the week that was – rain, an earthquake, and now, this.

Classes continued and it seems everybody knows, but wouldn’t talk.

The advantages of being with company

After class, I started watching television coverage at the equipment room. (It has always been like that – with former president Joseph Estrada’s conviction, for example.) The patchy signal from ABS-CBN was interspersed with images from inside the Peninsula, helicopter shots of the streets of Makati, and Karen Davila, who seemed to lack sleep. It was around four in the afternoon, and already the deadline for Trillanes to surrender has passed. The next thing we know, police have posted a warrant of arrest on the door to the Peninsula’s lobby, and are now trying to get in.

Members of the media, being as bold as the soldiers (if we should call it like that), have stayed despite being asked to go out. In pursuit of a story, as we’ve been taught in journalism class, and thirty minutes later – after seeming indecision from the military and special units of the police – they have finally done stuff. Tear gas has entered the Peninsula, and it’s slowly rised up to the second floor, where most of the media is.

I heard Pinky Webb on the phone, and as her voice gets lower, she’s complaining about the tear gas affecting them. Insert videos of mediamen running around covering their faces, and Trillanes and Lim walking in and out, not giving any remarks.

And then tanks started to come in – to the lobby itself. After gunshots were heard – whether it’s a real exchange of fire, or a tape recording, remains to be seen – the TV channels were showing images of an all-purpose vehicle ramming through the Peninsula’s entrance, perfectly decorated for the holidays. The lobby, which apparently was renovated three years ago to the tune of a hundred million pesos, has suddenly become a military vehicle’s parking lot.

It was weird seeing Miss Diaz react to the tank’s entry – shown repeatedly on both ABS-CBN and GMA – about how the decorations fell. I moved to the radio booths and it was over. Trillanes and Lim are surrendering for the safety, they say, of everybody else inside.

Sounds brilliant?

And so they have proven their point. In one interview with Ces Drilon, Trillanes said that he aims everyone to be witnesses to the “ruthlessness” of the administration of President Gloria Macapagal-Arroyo. This was when tear gas was being put in the hotel – with ID 106 students in Miguel looking on and wondering why it was done despite the (more than) obvious presence of civilians. (Also there were two militant bishops and former vice president Teofisto Guingona.)

And then, when the APV is put in, they surrender – almost three hours after the deadline police set at around 15.00 – and I told Mang Ric that they have done something really smart. Maybe they wanted the media along for the ride, but now that they’ve seen it first hand, what else do they expect?

Now Les is telling me that the assault team is bringing everybody – members of the media included – to Camp Bagong Diwa in Bicutan. “They won’t say why,” she typed in. “They just keep on telling the media, ‘just come with us to Bicutan, ask questions later.’”

In between her the-government-is-so-stupid remarks, I wonder what really is the case.