FOR much of my political life, I believed Philippine democracy’s central problem was leadership. I supported Cory Aquino, worked for her, even pushed for Jovito Salonga, who lost to Fidel Ramos. I later worked with Ramos, Joseph Estrada and Gloria Macapagal Arroyo. Like many Filipinos, I thought the formula was simple enough: elect the right president, surround him with competent people, curb corruption, strengthen the bureaucracy, reform the economy — and perhaps the republic would finally turn the corner.

I no longer believe that.

After more than half a century watching Philippine politics — as activist, organizer, government functionary, constitutional reform advocate, and now aging columnist — I have reached a more uncomfortable conclusion.

Our problem is not simply that we keep choosing the wrong president. Our system keeps producing the wrong incentives. We change the driver, refuse to inspect the vehicle, and every six years, when it lands in the same ditch, begin searching for another driver.

The six-year messiah

The Philippine presidency has become more than a constitutional office. It has become the repository of national hope. Every election resembles a secular revival, with candidates arriving as bearers of salvation.

We elect one human being and expect him or her to — repair agriculture, create jobs, minimize corruption (particularly his/her own), discipline the bureaucracy, modernize infrastructure, reform education, confront China, satisfy America, reduce poverty, and preferably fix Metro Manila traffic before lunch.

Then we give the president six years, no reelection, little institutional continuity and often no durable governing coalition. We are then astonished that public policy sometimes develops the institutional memory of a goldfish.

Each incoming administration discovers that its predecessor apparently knew nothing. Programs are renamed, priorities rearranged, officials replaced. Yesterday’s enemies become today’s allies, yesterday’s allies rediscover misplaced principles. And another six-year experiment upon 115 million Filipinos begins.

Malacañang as political sun

The deeper problem is structural. Our system concentrates enormous political expectations — and enormous patronage — around one individual. Malacañang consequently becomes the sun around which much of Philippine politics revolves.

Legislators require executive cooperation for budgets and projects. Local politicians cultivate access to national resources. Business interests seek favorable government policies. Political clans negotiate alliances with whoever controls the executive machinery.

The president therefore gradually becomes something our ancestors would have recognized immediately: the supreme patron.

We changed the titles, not the political instinct. The datu, gobernadorcillo and cacique dispensed favors and power. Today’s political patron does the same — with appointments, projects, access, and influence.

The Constitution created modern institutions. Our political culture keeps trying to turn them back into personal relationships. This is why replacing one president with another rarely changes the underlying equation. A virtuous president may restrain the machinery. A competent president may operate it better. A corrupt president may exploit it shamelessly. But the machinery survives them all.

The problem is bigger than the president

This does not mean presidents do not matter. Of course they do. Some of our presidents have governed considerably better than others. Individual character, competence and judgment can determine whether institutions are strengthened or damaged.

But that is precisely the weakness of a system excessively dependent upon presidential personality. A republic should not require political genius every six years merely to function properly.

Consider the strange bargain we have created. We invest enormous political capital in electing one person, then spend six years debating whether that person is hero, villain, genius, incompetent, dictator, democrat, saint or sinner.

Meanwhile, the institutional questions remain remarkably constant. Why are political parties weak? Why is policymaking discontinuous? Why is political accountability blurred? Why does national power remain excessively centralized? Why must every major reform depend upon presidential sponsorship? We keep asking whether the captain is competent. Perhaps we should finally inspect the ship.

Why parliamentary govt makes more sense to me

I have therefore increasingly favored parliamentary government — not because parliamentarism is perfect, but because its incentives better address the institutional weaknesses we need to correct.

Under parliamentary government, executive authority emerges from the legislature. A prime minister governs because a parliamentary majority supports a governing program.

Lose that confidence and government can change. There is no constitutional requirement to endure six years of paralysis merely because the calendar has not expired. Conversely, successful governments can continue beyond an arbitrary six-year limit.

More importantly, political parties must govern. Parliamentary government will not magically manufacture principled parties. But it gives politicians a powerful incentive to build coherent ones.

Voters begin choosing not merely personalities but competing governing teams and programs. Ministers must defend policies before parliament. The opposition becomes institutionalized rather than merely waiting outside the kulambo for its next turn.

Responsibility becomes harder to escape. If government succeeds, the governing coalition receives the credit. If it fails, it cannot endlessly blame an unfortunate Cabinet secretary, bureaucrat, or previous administration. That is institutional accountability — considerably more useful than another campaign jingle.

And why federalism belongs beside it

Parliamentary reform alone is insufficient. The other great distortion of Philippine governance is excessive centralization. For someone from Mindanao, this has never been an academic question. Too many decisions affecting communities hundreds of kilometers from Manila still travel through departments, agencies and political calculations concentrated in the capital. Money flows upward. Permission flows downward.

Politicians learn ambition’s true geography: the road to Manila, not the barangay. Badly designed federalism will not baptize away corruption; it may merely promote provincial fiefdoms into regional kingdoms, with larger budgets, grander stationery and more impressive family seals.

That is why federalism, parliamentarism and political party reform must reinforce one another. Federalism without genuine parties could strengthen dynasties. Parliamentarism without functioning parties could rearrange the same politicians inside a different chamber. Party reform without changing presidential patronage could leave those parties orbiting Malacañang. There are no constitutional miracles.

Only better or worse incentives.

But who will change the system?

Here, however, my friends at Marangal produce their strongest argument. Fine, they say. Perhaps the presidential system is the problem. But who will change it? Surely we must first elect a good, competent president who can lead us toward a federal-parliamentary system.

Perfectly logical — until one notices the trap.

Apparently, the cure for our dependence on presidents is wonderfully simple: Find another president to depend on. Ridiculous! For nearly a century, reformers, populists, technocrats, strongmen and assorted political messiahs have auditioned as The One. Every six years, we discover our savior; six years later, we resume the search.

And now, to escape presidentialism, we apparently need — what else? — the perfect president. (Perhaps, the anti-fed-parl Sara, the sure winner, kuno!)

First, Sara (or whoever) wins under the existing system; then defies those who put her there, surrender the enormous powers she just acquired, and dismantle the political machinery that made her president.

Brilliant strategy! And stupid!

We spent nearly a century replacing chickens while preserving the same coop. After all these magnificent experiments, perhaps we might consider one revolutionary possibility: the problem is the damned henhouse.

Next week, I will examine the egg because perhaps we have been asking the wrong question all along.