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Still, it seemed absurd that Marcos himself would order his old enemy to be killed so clumsily. Most speculation centered on two sources: the radical left, which would stand to benefit from a weakening of the moderate opposition and a brutal blow to Marcos' reputation; and, more plausibly, some of the President's senior aides. While still in the U.S., Aquino had told TIME that he feared the loyalist forces around Marcos more than tie did the President. The reason: in the long run, Aquino felt, he would be an obstacle to their political ambitions. Aquino was known to fear Armed Forces Chief Ver above all others in the Marcos circle. A four-star general who was once Marcos' driver and bodyguard, Ver is considered to be totally loyal to the President and is widely regarded as the second most powerful man in the Philippines.
Wherever the guilt lay, Aquino's death has fundamentally altered Philippine politics at a time when Marcos can least afford it. Parliamentary elections are to be held next year, and in recent months it seemed there was a chance they would be fair, which boded well for future stability. If, at the same time, a spirit of reconciliation could be fostered among the country's major forces—Marcos, the Roman Catholic Church, the army and the opposition—the elections might have been credible. That, in turn, could have led to open debate, brought more young people into the political mainstream, improved the country's economic climate and generally bettered the prospects for a peaceful power shift when Marcos eventually departed from the scene.
If that process has been derailed, Marcos faces the prospect of spending his final years in power without any clear direction. Under martial law, the Philippine military has been transformed from a small, apolitical force into a bloated guarantor of Marcos' power. The country's institutions, from city halls to the courts to the press, have been emasculated. The economy has been crippled by "crony capitalism," a system that saw the government pour hundreds of millions of dollars into a handful of companies controlled by the President's friends.
When times were relatively prosperous, most of the 50 million Filipinos tolerated martial law. But like many developing countries, the Philippines was hit hard by the worldwide economic slowdown and the prolonged slump in commodity prices. As the pie shrank, so did public tolerance for repression. Inexorably, the radical left, a negligible force when Marcos took power, gained strength.
Western analysts estimate that the New People's Army (N.P.A.), a loose association of radical nationalists inspired by Mao, now has 7,000 to 10,000 armed members, supported by a base of 100,000 sympathizers. The movement's greatest strength is concentrated in northern Luzon, Samar, and in eastern Mindanao, where N.P.A. bands, sometimes numbering as many as 200 guerrillas, have attacked military outposts and where the organization claims to control 200 villages. The government has dealt harshly with the Communist insurgents, publishing lists of the most wanted leaders and offering rewards for their capture, and jailing Catholic clergy suspected of helping them.