next, they may have cheered too soon.
Immediately after his return, Khomeini challenged the interim government, which was headed by the shahâs former prime minister. Much of the army defected and joined Khomeini, and when he ordered a jihad against soldiers remaining loyal to the old regime resistance collapsed. Then he ordered a referendum to be held in which the people would choose between the old monarchy of the shah or an Islamic republic. With the endorsement of 98 percent for the latter, he rewrote the constitution basing it on rule by clerics. After some dubious electoral practices this constitution was approved and he became the Supreme Leader with a Council of Guardians to veto non-Islamic
laws and candidates. The many secular and moderate religious groups who had taken to the streets on his behalf, providing the critical support needed for his rise to power, found they were left out, excluded from running the new regime.
Khomeini became leader because he provided a focal point for opposition to the shahâs regime, and because the army did not stop the people from rising up against the monarchy. Once the shah was gone, Khomeini quickly asserted that it was he, not an interim government or a council representing all interests, who was in charge. Although the masses brought down the old regime in hopes of obtaining a more democratic government, Khomeini ensured that real power was retained by a small group of clerics. The parliament, while popularly elected, could only contain politicians who would support and be supported by the Council of Guardians.
There is nothing special or unique about Khomeiniâs success. That millions wanted the shahâs regime overturned is unsurprising. The shah ran a brutal, oppressive government under which thousands disappeared. Imprisonment, torture, and death were commonplace. But that was equally true fourteen years earlier when Khomeini went into exile and the shahâs government seemed invulnerable. The key to Khomeiniâs success at the end of the 1970s was that the army refused to stop the unhappy millions from taking to the streets. They had not allowed such protests before. What had changed? The army was no longer willing to fight to preserve the regime because they knew that the shah was dying. The New York Times 3 published accounts of the farce of a sick leader desperate to hide the progression of his cancer. A dead shah couldnât guarantee rewards. Neither could his successor. The incumbency advantage unraveled. Faced with the unpleasant task of suppressing the people with only a modest prospect of continuing to enjoy the lavish rewards of coalition membership, the army sat on its hands, smoothing the way for revolution.
The story of the rise of democracy in the Philippines is not much different. Benigno Aquino Jr. was an outstanding man. At the age of eighteen he was awarded the Philippine Legion of Honor for his journalism during the Korean War. He then negotiated the surrender of a rebel group. He was mayor of Concepcion by age twenty-two, governor
of Tarlac Province at twenty-nine, and a senator by thirty-four. In a dangerous move, he became an outspoken critic of President Ferdinand Marcos. In 1983, Benigno returned from exile in the United States. On the flight back to Manila he warned journalists that it might all be over in minutes. And it was. He was immediately taken from the plane and assassinated on the tarmac. He should have followed Khomeiniâs example and bided his time.
His wife, Corazon, did not have his political skills or experience, but she had one critical advantage: She was alive! In late 1985 Ferdinand Marcos announced snap elections a year earlier than scheduled. Corazon Aquino stepped in as her late husbandâs surrogate and ran as the main opposition candidate. There was widespread fraud at the elections on February 7, 1986, so it was of little surprise when just over a week later the electoral commission declared
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