In 1987, the framers of our Constitution, preferring idealism over practicality, decided we would have a multiparty democracy. This was supposed to be better than the two-party system we had prior to the dictatorship, which, according to its critics, wasn’t much of a party system in the first place. As it turned out, neither was the multiparty system put in its place—which I’ve argued for years—is actually a one-party state.

That’s because in decreeing a multiparty system, the framers of our Constitution retained the presidency, while denying it the political foundation needed by any presidency, which is a clear majority mandate. Instead, we’ve had insecure administrations buying stability by means of bribery: call it pork barrel, call it patronage, call it whatever you want. Elected by a minority, able to depend on essentially fly-by-night temporary party vehicles, presidents look to the senators, congressmen, and governors and offer them a chance to feed at the trough in exchange for their support.

There’s no other way. Also in their wisdom, the framers of the Constitution decreed that the basic unit of government—the barangay—would be nonpolitical. So the grassroots are off-limits to the parties; they have evolved to be political manananggal: political torsos floating above the basic political units, and it’s no wonder they are essentially parasites because they are incapable of being organic.

Back in 2009, an Indonesian once told me the reason they go through the added trouble and expense of a runoff election is precisely related to the Philippines. Only five years earlier, in 2004, Indonesians had directly elected their president for the first time, or 69 years after Filipinos first directly elected their own chief executive.

According to the Indonesian, after they restored democracy, they looked at our country as an example to study. First, they assumed, as most Filipinos do, that the presidential system is the best suited, historically and culturally, to their population and ours; but also, they believed the Philippines’ lack of a majority president since 1987 has caused too many problems—which a runoff could reduce.

I have been a strong believer in instituting runoff elections if, in the future, we decide to retain the multiparty system instead of returning to the two-party system (but I think we are inclined to two parties, basically defined as the one in power and the one that wants to be in power, and so is forced to propose an alternative). The recent example of Brazil’s Lula snatching victory from the jaws of defeat is instructive.

Let’s not forget that when he sought a fourth term, Lula lost. By 2.2 million votes. It was a loss that had been expected: he was old, tired, and had accumulated his fair share of scandals and thus, caused disappointment. What was unexpected was that Lula turned that loss into a victory in the second round of voting. The New York Times reported how Lula gained 10 million more votes in round two than he obtained in round one: first, he got most of the 9 million votes that had gone to conservative candidates other than his main opponent: apparently they preferred the Lula they disliked to the wildcard Bolsonaro Jr.; second, 3 million who’d stayed home for Round 1 came out to vote in Round 2. Third, a strong showing by the ultra-right in legislative elections inspired a segment of voters to ensure that not the whole government would be captured by the far right. Fourth, Lula representing the Catholic majority, a broad trend comprising Catholic social teaching with an ecumenical openness in contrast to the offensive Pentecostalism of some of Bolsonaro’s base.

What galvanized matters, by all accounts, wasn’t Lula but a clever supporter who also happened to be a politician, André Janones, who launched an insurgency on WhatsApp where he had 53,000 followers. Renaming it “Lula’s Army,” in five days it grew to 3.4 million, eventually reaching 10 million—with Lula finally joining a few days before the poll, using his first-ever smartphone. Reading the Times report on its methodology, it struck me as utterly familiar.

In 2020, I’d summarized the methodology in this space: “A former colleague who looked into it once sketched out how marvelously the AlDub fandom works on Twitter … like this: At a certain time, key accounts will tweet the message or hashtag for the day, and it will then be taken on and tweeted in turn by a cascading series of fan clubs, all looking to the big accounts for their cue. In the meantime, other accounts are surveying the scene to see if the various clubs are tweeting with enough enthusiasm and volume; if not, they report to others who then urge on a renewed push by encouraging messages to prominent and small accounts alike, including gentle corrections if people go off message. The result is the communications juggernaut that AlDub became, particularly around 2015-2017.”

But it remains to be seen if the specific charisma of Lula is the last hurrah of an Old Brazil described as “coastal, Catholic, cordial, collectivist,” in contrast to what won but not by enough to prevent a runoff: Americanized, “evangelical, defensive, precarious, individualistic.”