Prelude: A Theater of Leadership and Destiny

No ritual in the calendar of JCI Manila has matched the fervor, anticipation, and theater of its elections. Beyond the social events, beyond the storied projects, beyond the international acclaim that Asia’s First Jaycee Chapter has accumulated, it is the elections that capture both the imagination and the anxiety of members. It is here — in the crucible of ballots and campaigns — that reputations are tested, friendships strained, and leadership destinies either confirmed or dashed.

With the Filipino’s deep cultural penchant for elections, it is unsurprising that the Manila Jaycees would transform their annual polls into nothing less than a festival of ambition and persuasion. Candidates, once distant figures, suddenly became attentive callers, gracious hosts, and relentless advocates. In those weeks leading to Election Day, even inactive members found themselves courted and cajoled — their votes carrying a weight disproportionate to their previous silence.

Yet beneath the noise, the pomp, and sometimes the bitterness of rivalry lies something nobler: a sacred democratic exercise that has shaped the very character of JCI Manila. The history of these elections — spanning more than seven decades — is not merely about who won or lost; it is about how Asia’s premier leadership laboratory refined its crucible of leadership, instilled lessons that outlasted campaigns, and evolved traditions that became cornerstones of its culture.

The First Ballots: Simplicity and Selection (1948–1950s)

The inaugural election of January 7, 1948, at the Manila Hotel was a modest affair. Eleven directors were chosen, then officers were elected from among them. The presidency was contested by Ramon V. del Rosario and Eugenio J. Puyat. Del Rosario’s tactful suggestion of a secret ballot and the impartiality of canvassers gave legitimacy to the outcome: six votes for Del Rosario, four for Puyat. Thus, in gentlemanly fashion, the first president of JCI Manila emerged.

For much of the 1950s, elections were not battles but orderly selections. The presidency rotated among founders and early stalwarts. Seniority, willingness, and involvement — not financial might — were the principal qualifications. Elections were often uncontested, sealed in advance by tacit agreements. As one past president described, his term was “one fund-raiser after another,” but the burden was borne collectively, not personally.

Yet even then, glimmers of contest appeared. In 1956, the TRIED AND TRUE (TNT) party and the WELL-PLANNED PROGRAM OF ACTION (WPPOA) party clashed, though results were preordained: TNT’s seasoned Jaycees secured the majority. The decade’s stability was soon to give way to fiercer rivalries.

The Periquet Factor: Awakening Competition (1960s)

The turning point arrived in 1960 with Aurelio O. Periquet Jr. — a young, ambitious, and restless executive. Brash and impatient, he broke the cycle of uncontested successions. Though defeated by Wilfrido C. Tecson in 1960 and Russell Swartley in 1961, Periquet embodied a new breed of candidate: assertive, unafraid of open campaigning, willing to bend traditions. He distributed printed materials, courted defections, and built a movement. Though initially rebuffed, he triumphed in 1962, vindicated by leading the chapter to its first Most Outstanding LOM of the World Award in 1963.

Periquet’s rise marked a shift: elections were no longer merely selections; they were contests of vision, style, and ambition. Campaigning became an art. Members began to expect persuasion, not just seniority.

The 1960s also saw constitutional experimentation. Amendments in 1969 mandated direct popular voting for the president, replacing the parliamentary system where directors chose among themselves. This democratization energized campaigns, producing memorable duels — Escobar vs. Dans (1964), Belmonte vs. Camus (1970), Bengzon vs. Enriquez (1971). Voter turnout soared, peaking at 80%. Elections became spectacles, as much entertainment as governance.

But the risks of direct elections soon became clear. Minority presidents — elected without majority boards — found themselves hamstrung. Paulino Dionisio (1974) endured such paralysis, his plans constantly overruled. By 1975, the system reverted to its earlier form, balancing excitement with governability.

From Calm to Storm: The 1970s and 1980s

The 1970s oscillated between bitter contests and uneasy truces. Jose Halili-Co’s repeated attempts, Firmo O. Liwanag’s flamboyant spending, and Salvador M. Enriquez Jr.’s surprise victory over Bengzon illustrated the unpredictability of the decade. By the late 1970s, accusations of COMELEC bias, ballot disposal scandals, and even temporary “impeachments” marred the process.

In the 1980s, however, a curious calm descended. The SIGLA Party established near-hegemonic control, fielding predetermined candidates. Elections became rubber stamps — predictable and uninspired. While this secured stability, it dulled enthusiasm. Members went through the motions, and contests devolved into ceremonial confirmations.

Yet complacency bred discontent. Seeds of revolt germinated among ambitious newcomers.

The 1990s: Excess, Division, and the Bitter Lesson of 1994

The 1990 elections detonated the quiet. TAG-ALIVE, led by Andrew S. Ong, challenged BIGKIS under Benjamin L. Yam. For the first time, campaigns mimicked national elections: phone brigades, sorties, cocktails, paraphernalia. Spending soared into hundreds of thousands. Votes were courted like prized commodities. Manila Jaycees had entered the era of extravagance.

But the climax — and nadir — was 1994. Mark Vincent S. Dayrit, breaking from BIGKIS, formed ACTIVE. Franco Y. Lim carried BIGKIS’s standard. The contest became ethnicized: Binondo vs. Makati. Both camps flooded members with parties, posters, and personal calls. When BIGKIS won 11–4, defeat turned acrid. ACTIVE sympathizers filed cases before the SEC, alleging irregularities. Though dismissed, the wounds festered. Thirty members walked out to form a new group. The chapter bled manpower, morale, and unity.

The lessons of 1994 remain etched:

1. Popularity is not enough; numbers decide. Dayrit’s charisma could not overcome BIGKIS’s disciplined slate.

2. Personal campaigning is decisive. Members responded not to slogans but to personal calls and visits.

3. Block voting is rare. Members exercised independence, splitting tickets.

4. Compromise is preferable to confrontation. Backroom deals often prevented catastrophe.

5. Above all, this is Jaycees. The elections are training grounds, not battlefields for enmity. To burn bridges is to wound the very chapter one seeks to lead.

The scars of 1994 haunted JCI Manila for years. Membership shrank, resources dissipated, and leaders inherited fractured boards. Yet from pain emerged wisdom: never again would elections be allowed to rip the chapter apart.

The New Millennium: Coalitions, Maverick Campaigns, and Recalibration

By 2000, BIGKIS dissolved, ceding space for new parties: TANGLAW, LETS GO MJC, and a maverick candidate, Gerard L. Azada. Coalitions were forged — such as TANGO 2000 — to prevent fragmentation. Yet turbulence persisted. Jason L. Ong’s quixotic campaigns in 2001 and 2002, marked by overbearing tactics and eventual humiliations, revealed the perils of untempered ambition.

At the same time, spending reached unprecedented levels. Pre-nomination and pre-election parties cost upwards of ₱100,000. Campaign bills could soar between ₱200,000 and ₱700,000. Candidates funded paraphernalia, luncheons, cocktails, and mailings. Elections became showcases of opulence as much as leadership.

Yet even amid excess, the underlying principle endured: elections were leadership training. Candidates learned persuasion, coalition-building, humility in defeat, and magnanimity in victory.

The SULONG Decade: Managed Stability (2012–2021)

After the turbulence of the 2000s, Manila Jaycees entered a long plateau of stability under the SULONG Party, formed in 2012 when the veteran LETSGO stalwarts decided to retire. SULONG was designed less as a party of contention than of continuity. Its very name evoked motion forward, yet its mission was to preserve equilibrium. For nearly a decade, it oversaw uncontested elections — installing presidents without rancor, quietly tending to the traditions of the Chamber, and preventing the trauma of earlier schisms.

The result was predictability. On occasion, lone wolves dared to defy the dominant party’s anointed slate — Gilbert O. Go in 2013 and Ryan Chua Co Kiong in 2020 — but they were remembered more as passing spectacles than genuine threats. Year after year, a standard bearer was chosen, endorsed, and swept into office by acclamation. The democratic theater dimmed; the art of persuasion dulled. Yet stability had its virtues: projects thrived, leadership pipelines held firm, and friendships endured. For a time, Manila Jaycees drifted through what could be called its “era of calm waters,” when elections became less a storm of contest and more a ritual of ceremony.

The Breaking Point: SULONG vs. Richard Tamayo (2020)

But calm seldom lasts forever. By 2020, ambitions once more stirred beneath the surface. That year, the SULONG Party officially endorsed Walter L. Uy as its standard bearer. Yet in the wings stood Richard Antonio M. Tamayo, whose group also aspired for the presidency. Both leaders faced the same ticking clock: each was nearing the age limitation of 40 — their final chance to ascend. Neither could easily surrender.

Behind the scenes, delicate negotiations played out under mounting strain. Richard was persuaded — some would say pressured — into pledging not to challenge SULONG with a separate slate. Yet fate intervened in an unexpected turn. Walter, recognizing that pressing on with his bid risked pushing the chapter down a slippery slope, chose to withdraw. In a twist few anticipated, the party stalwarts themselves opened the door for Richard’s team to run under the SULONG banner, defusing what could have been a bitter clash. The result was a fragile compromise — one that preserved unity for the moment, but exposed the first visible cracks in the party’s once-solid machinery.

 

The Fall of SINAG, the Rise of LFG (2022)

The following year, 2022, would shatter all illusions of unity. A new set of elders and past presidents rallied to form a rejuvenated SINAG, fielding Jaime Jose B. Barlizo as standard bearer. They believed continuity could still command loyalty if backed by the imprimatur of tradition.

But the membership thought otherwise. The rank-and-file found inspiration in the charismatic Eric C. Ke, whose youthful vigor and expansive circle of supporters galvanized energy unseen in years. Backed by strong financial support and buoyed by a populist appeal, Eric Ke’s group launched LFG — a fresh party with the audacity to challenge the old guard.

The campaign was fierce, tinged with negative campaigning, but its outcome was a rout. LFG captured all 15 directorships, an unprecedented sweep. SINAG — despite endorsements from key Senators and respected past presidents — crumbled before the tide of youthful momentum. The party that once embodied continuity died a natural death in the wake of LFG’s triumph. For Manila Jaycees, 2022 was another watershed: the membership had spoken resoundingly, privileging renewal over tradition.

 

The New Order: ALAB and the Unified Banner (2024–Present)

In the aftermath of SINAG’s collapse, 2024 brought forth another reinvention: the ALAB Party, a banner forged to unify rather than divide. Its name — meaning “flame” — captured the spirit of passion, resolve, and collective fire. Under the leadership of Charles Matthew E. Gosingtian, ALAB became the chapter’s unified party, consolidating energies once fragmented by factionalism.

ALAB symbolized not just a rebranding of electoral machinery but a resetting of values. It promised to balance continuity with inclusivity — to fuse the lessons of SULONG’s stability, SINAG’s cautionary tale, and LFG’s populist surge. For the moment, it appeared that JCI Manila had once again recalibrated its electoral compass, reminded that the genius of its elections lay not in endless conflict but in their capacity to adapt, to renew, and to reconcile.

The Party System: Culture, Traditions, and Contradictions

Unlike national politics, JCI Manila’s parties were never ideological. TNT, WPPOA, SIGLA, BIGKIS, ACTIVE, TANGLAW, LETS GO MJC, SAMASAMA, SULONG, SINAG, ALAB — all were less about platforms than about personalities, loyalties, and organizational styles. They were temporary vessels, dissolved and reborn with the tides of ambition.

Yet the party system cultivated valuable skills: coordination, messaging, team discipline. Campaigns became laboratories where members learned to negotiate, compromise, and communicate. Even defeats enriched the chapter, producing seasoned leaders who later excelled in business, politics, or civic service.

Traditions crystallized:

• Personal calls and visits. A candidate who failed to reach out personally was doomed.

• Pre-nomination parties. Ritualized spectacles of loyalty and enthusiasm.

• COMELEC stewardship. From Robert Trent (1948) to Joel Nuñez (2003), impartial arbiters were expected, though not always delivered.

• Post-election unity. However bruising campaigns were, members were expected to dissolve rivalries the morning after, rallying around the president-elect.

The Deeper Lessons: Beyond Victory and Defeat

Looking across seven decades, certain truths emerge:

1. Leadership is destiny. The biography of the president often determined the chapter’s trajectory. Competence, character, and vision mattered more than slogans.

2. Elections are crucibles, not coronations. The process, with its tests of persuasion and resilience, mattered as much as the outcome.

3. Democracy requires restraint. When ambition overreached — as in 1994 — the chapter suffered. The electoral arena must remain a training ground, not a battlefield.

4. Tradition tempers turbulence. Rituals, from COMELEC oversight to post-election unity, prevented chaos from becoming collapse.

5. Every defeat is preparation. Many who lost elections went on to greater achievements within JCI and beyond. Periquet, defeated twice, later became JCI Asia-Pacific Vice President. Enriquez, once an underdog, rose to prominence.

Conclusion: Keeping the Idealism Alive

The elections of JCI Manila are more than periodic contests; they are mirrors reflecting the chapter’s evolving culture — its penchant for spectacle, its love of democracy, its weaknesses for extravagance, its strengths in resilience. They are stages upon which ambition, humility, conflict, and reconciliation play out.

From Del Rosario’s tactful victory in 1948 to Eric Ke’s sweeping rout in 2022, from the controlled stability of SULONG to the fiery unity of ALAB, the elections of JCI Manila have traced an arc of democracy unique in the annals of civic organizations. They have veered from calm to chaos, from excess to prudence, from elite endorsement to populist surge.

Yet through it all, the essential truth remains: the election is not about a year’s presidency but about the chapter’s enduring culture of leadership. Each cycle — victory or defeat, uncontested or hotly fought — teaches lessons that echo far beyond the ballots.

Ultimately, the JCI Manila election is not about who occupies the presidency for one fleeting year; it is about how each generation of JCI members learns to contest with vigor yet reconcile with grace, to campaign with passion yet serve with humility, to aspire for power yet remember that leadership is always for service.

Let every JCI Manila member, therefore, enter elections not with fear or rancor, but with reverence for tradition and openness to renewal. For in every campaign — whether under TNT or SIGLA, BIGKIS or ACTIVE, SULONG or ALAB — lies the eternal campaign of JCI Manila: a campaign not merely for office, but for the perpetuation of leadership itself.