(Editor’s Note: Pangasinan Rep. Jose de Venecia Jr. talks about Fidel Ramos’ secret meetings with his rivals in the 1992 presidential election in his biography, “Global Filipino: The Authorized Biography of Jose de Venecia Jr., the Visionary Five-Time Speaker of the House of Representatives of the Philippines.” Ramos and De Venecia co-founded the political party Lakas-National Union of Christian Democrats [later, Christian Muslim Democrats].

De Venecia talked, among others, about meetings he arranged for Ramos with Eduardo “Danding” Cojuangco, the late Speaker Ramon Mitra, and former First Lady Imelda Marcos.)

CRISIS started to shake Ramos as his electoral victory turned day after day from improbable to imminent. The initial shock of recognition that he had no Cabinet-in-waiting threw his campaign headquarters into a frenzy.

And on top of that, because no candidate could possibly receive a majority of votes with such a large number of rival candidates in the race, the winner would enter Malacañang as a minority president. Here Ramos faced potential ambush from his political foes.

Amity Talks 1

In those white-knuckled days of waiting, de Venecia concocted a new initiative ... to get Congress to wind up its slow canvassing of the COCs and proclaim the President-elect before June 30. To obtain a consensus to move forward, Ramos had to reach out to his rivals and invite each to a one-on-one parley with him.

De Venecia’s next target was the most emotionally wrenching in these parleys: Mitra. The LDP [Laban ng Demokratikong Pilipino, Mitra’s party] icon was wounded by treachery by his trusted leaders and increasingly alone if not isolated, and was now in an abysmal hole facing the darkening prospect of defeat.

De Venecia was only vaguely aware of Mitra’s own demons when he approached him. Ramos’s breakaway with de Venecia just six months earlier had wounded Mitra deeply. Even more stinging was a fateful event nine days before Election Day because the Dagupan congressman was an old friend, confidant and political ally who he thought had stabbed him in the back during this campaign. A House of Representatives insider had tipped off Representative Edelmiro Amante, a Ramos ally, about the alleged misuse of the House printing press: it was mass-producing Mitra’s campaign leaflets and LDP sample ballots. Amante received the information on May 1. The next day, at ten o’clock in the morning de Venecia, who rushed to Manila from Pangasinan, Amante, and Congressman Jaime Lopez led a much-publicized “raid” on the House printing press at the Batasan (Congressional) complex in Quezon City. Once inside, they uncovered the “smoking gun”—a substantial quantity of campaign materials that bore Mitra’s name and photos and the LDP senatorial slate, some ready to be shipped out. There were printing machines with clichés and stencils molded to print their propaganda materials.

Memory of those events was heavy on de Venecia’s mind as he arrived for the parley, his first meeting with Mitra during the hard-fought campaign period. It was close to midnight when they shook hands in the Speaker’s Makati apartment. Mitra was looking distraught. Deep silence now reigned in a place that for years was so used to endless chatter and bustle. They sat down to talk, punctuated by awkward stretches of silence. At times Mitra showed unusual anger at Congressman Peping Cojuangco, who many in the LDP suspected had dumped him in Tarlac. He was unhappy with Congressmen Jose Yap, Ronnie Zamora and Mike Romero. They, too, came under deep suspicion of having junked him in their bailiwicks. Almost everywhere he looked, Mitra was assailed by signs of political double-cross. That word, as though newly minted, now embedded itself in his political vocabulary...

Mitra, showing his true nature as a gentleman and a statesman, told de Venecia he was bowing to the inevitable and vowed not to block Ramos’ proclamation. He congratulated de Venecia for being a key strategist of the Ramos victory and then he made a personal promise. “It won’t be difficult to reach an understanding with the LDP.”

The meeting lasted ninety minutes.

On the last days of May, only three candidates remained in contention for the presidency: Ramos, Santiago, and Cojuangco. The Commission on Elections, taking an unusual step, warned of a constitutional crisis unless Congress proclaimed a new president by June 30.

In early June with the MCQC [Media-Citizen’s Quick Count] tabulating almost 80 percent of the estimated 25 million votes cast, the Ramos team made a decisive but controversial move: He claimed unofficial victory.

Cojuangco’s immediate reaction was rightfully hostile.

A difficult fight awaited them in Congress. Despite powerful critics within the party, de Venecia convinced Ramos that the time had come to reach out to Cojuangco, the strongest force among the pro-Marcos political groups.

Amity Talks II

In June, Cojuangco wrote to the joint canvassing committee seeking precinct-level scrutiny of the election returns in Cebu, Iloilo, Pangasinan and Pampanga—four vote-rich provinces that NPC spokesman Salvador Escudero III said were riddled with “reports of rampant poll-rigging.” Next, Cojuangco alleged that Malacañang officials had released two billion pesos on the eve of the election. “The money was clearly used to finance massive vote-buying and ballot-switching,” he claimed.

This was the delicate political atmosphere when de Venecia made his initial approach to set up a Ramos-Cojuangco parley. De Venecia turned to Representative Jose Zubiri of Bukidnon, an NPC pillar, seeking his help to arrange this meeting. Although Cojuangco’s party had forty-seven seats in the House, far less than the eighty-plus of the LDP, which gained the plurality, NPC packed a political wallop because its members were united in their goals and direction. About this time, De Venecia had already offered a coalition between Lakas and NPC, drawn to Cojuangco’s party by its demonstrated coherence and strength of commitment. The power-sharing and burden-sharing arrangement eventually would translate into sixteen NPC committee chairmanships in the House; more significantly de Venecia strengthened the political coalition that Ramos needed to secure his proclamation. He also boosted his own chances in the upcoming battle for Speaker.

This was the situation as de Venecia sat in the receiving room of Cojuangco’s residence in New Manila, Quezon City. He and Cojuangco had been in the same Congress in 1970 that was shuttered by martial law. “When I shook his hand, I knew that I was welcome to talk with him as if it were the old days,” de Venecia recalled fifteen years later. “I invited him to confer with Ramos at my residence in Makati. He agreed, stressing the need for utmost secrecy from the media until the meeting had been concluded.”

On the night of June 14, Cojuangco arrived for the meeting accompanied by his wife, Gretchen, son Mark and daughter-in-law Kimi. They were welcomed by the de Venecia couple, and within minutes the NPC chief—looking slimmer from the campaign ordeal—went right down to business. He and Ramos repaired to a second-floor function room where they conferred, with only their closest strategists allowed to stay at a discreet distance. The initial mood was tense but bore little trace of the bitter electoral contest being waged in Congress. The two rivals understood that the stakes were high; they were aware that a post-election crisis might engulf the country and they both agreed to avert it. For four hours they hashed things out, two political combatants who knew the uses of power but were open to compromise if dictated by the higher demands of national unity. Earlier in the week, Cojuangco had let the word out that he would respect the final fiat of Congress on the election, whatever its outcome. He reiterated this now. Ramos and de Venecia, the latter of whom joined the talks during their most crucial part, persuaded him to concede defeat. Ramos asked for his “cooperation at this particular time leading to a higher level of unity, solidarity and teamwork.” He also sought Cojuangco’s help to “bring about economic recovery and political stability in the country.”

Cojuangco, an intent listener, pondered every point. His response to most of Ramos’s requests was positive, and he gave his support without setting any condition. A successful billionaire agro-industrialist, Cojuangco agreed to Ramos’s initiative for him to provide Ramos with “economic counsel” from time to time. The one thing Cojuangco showed interest in was the resolution of the court cases filed against him arising from his long and close association with President Marcos. The lawsuits had weighed on him for years, and he said he wanted due process, not favored treatment, but he needed Ramos’s assurance that the next administration would not interfere in the resolution of the lawsuits. Ramos gave his word. With this, the meeting ended. It was a real man-to-man talk, perhaps the most crucial of all the parleys.

The Grace of the Iron Butterfly

At this juncture, although he had not yet secured Mrs. Marcos’s commitment to the amity talks, de Venecia and a few other Ramos emissaries were within days of achieving a breakthrough. One of them was Mrs. Marichu Vera-Perez Maceda, de Venecia’s sister-in-law and the perfect political wife who, in another era, once moved in Imelda’s elite circle of “blue ladies” at Malacañang Palace.

The de Venecias’ Dasmariñas residence in Makati was ready to welcome her. It was a pleasant evening in June. Gina de Venecia and Manay Ichu fetched her by car, their way secured by de Venecia’s security escorts. So used to the pomp of power, Mrs. Marcos came to the small, intimate dinner wearing a formal black-and-white gown paired with a gold scarf. She arrived with her children, Ferdinand Jr. (Bongbong) and Imee, accompanied by her now estranged husband, Tommy Manotoc, and their youngest son Matthew. Her entourage also included two additional relatives, sister-in-law Fortuna Barba and Alita Martel. Ramos came with his wife Ming and their daughter Chula, escorted by her husband Alex Sembrano. Senator Shahani [Ramos’ sister] completed the cast.

Gina de Venecia took care of the smallest details.

This dinner was the first reunion of the Marcos and Ramos families since the EDSA Revolution, but the years of strain and animosity did not show. There was banter and talk was cordial. Of course, hot-button topics were prudently avoided. One name dominated the early conversation: that of Fabian Marcos, the common great-grandfather of Ferdinand Marcos and Fidel Ramos.

Imelda Marcos’s chief concern was the proper burial in the Philippines, with full state honors, of her husband, the former president. Ramos agreed to the return of Marcos’s body. A caretaker mutually acceptable to both families would be named to work out the details of the homecoming for the great Ilocano leader. It was a dramatic, emotional night. On this controversial matter, the dinner soon ended.

De Venecia’s efforts to arrange a meeting with Miriam Santiago fell through. The only remaining holdout continued to blast the credibility of the elections. He argued that unless she changed her mind and softened her public edge, it would be pointless and a waste of time to continue to seek her support.