MANILA -- Just months before the COVID pandemic drew the curtain over our 'normal' lives, I received an intriguing phone call.

It was from no less than former president Benigno Aquino III, affectionately known as "Noynoy." Aquino, who died from kidney disease last Thursday at the age of 61, was apparently intent on responding to a piece I had written for The Philippine Daily Inquirer, "Five myths of Dutertismo."

At first, the call seemed a tad strange. My column was a critique of authoritarian populism under Aquino's successor, Rodrigo Duterte, and had little to do with his own presidency. And yet there was something about what I wrote, perhaps my emphasis on the eerily dark power of demagogues, that picked his interest.

Curiously, up until that point, I had never managed to talk to Aqunio directly, although I had attended many of his events, especially ahead of the 2010 elections, the year when I became eligible to vote. Over the years, I had managed to interview or meet other presidents from Fidel Ramos to Gloria Macapagal-Arroyo as well as Duterte himself.

Throughout Aquino's term in office, I worked inside the Philippine legislature, occasionally advising members of his cabinet on national security and foreign policy issues. In my writing at the time, I was generally critical of the administration, sincerely believing he could always have done better.

Aquino indeed oversaw an unprecedented period of economic stability, transforming the so-called "sick man of Asia" into what the World Bank would describe as Asia's "rising tiger" economy in 2013. Yet growth, no matter how rapid, remained woefully concentrated, with the country's 40 richest families gobbling up three-fourths of the newly-created wealth. Nor did Aquino have clear industrial and trade policies to boost inclusive development.

Aquino oversaw an unprecedented series of anti-corruption initiatives to his credit, which targeted no less than a sitting Supreme Court chief justice and several senior lawmakers. Still, the good governance reforms remained deeply lopsided, primarily targeting opposition members and past administration holdovers, but curiously skipped the president's big-tent ruling coalition composed of loyalists and opportunists, including then Davao City Mayor Rodrigo Duterte.

And while I welcomed Aquino's historic peace negotiations with Islamist insurgents in Mindanao, his reluctance to accept responsibility for the botched Mamasapano counterterror operation in 2015, which led to the death of 44 police commandos, was deeply disappointing.

Grappling with Manila's suffocating traffic daily, I also could not help but despair over the scandalously slow pace of public infrastructure development under Aquino's watch.

Bundled together, these shortcomings set the stage for Duterte's populist revolt in 2016, which turned into a protest vote against the deficiencies of Aquino's administration.

So, admittedly, I was a bit anxious about where Aquino's phone call might lead. Was he angry at me? Had I offended him in some way? Why was he reaching out to me after all these years? But what began as a supposedly routine attempt to clarify some of the points I had raised in a single article, quickly evolved into an almost hourlong conversation -- one of the most lucid, passionate, and purposeful conversations I have ever had.

Immediately apparent was how articulate the former president sounded, especially in contrast to his blabbering successor, cogently making his case on every point of criticism I raised. For a moment, I even forgot that I was talking to a former politician. It felt more like a tete-a-tete with an academic colleague.

His command of operational details, all the while switching from English to Tagalog and back, deftly relying on elegantly simple sentences rather than the highfalutin balderdash that characterized his predecessor's addresses, was impressive. Not to mention his effortless humor.

Military honor guards stand next to an urn holding the ashes of former President Benigno Aquino III during a public viewing at the Church of Gesu, Ateneo de Manila University, in Quezon City, Manila.   © EPA/Jiji

Arguing over his legacy, Philippine political culture, and the direction of the country we both desperately loved, it soon became clear to me what a crestfallen figure he was. Struggling to soothe a wounded heart, Aquino wrestled with the torrent of calumny and ignorance associated with his family's legacy in recent years.

He clearly felt the burden of responsibility. His father, former Sen. Benigno "Ninoy" Aquino Jr., and his mother, former president Corazon "Cory" Aquino, played a decisive role in the restoration of democracy.

But now, all of a sudden, Duterte and his legions of supporters were constantly blaming the Aquino family for all the country's ills. The critics, amplified by online troll farms, conveniently overlooked the disastrous terms of years of dictator Ferdinand Marcos, or president Joseph Estrada, both of whom were booted out of office on the back of popular protests.

The presidency, Aquino knew, was a thankless job. But having left office with high approval ratings, he was surprised by the backlash. Agreeing to meet me in person, first the pandemic intervened, then his failing health.

Throughout his illness, which included kidney dialysis and heart surgery, Aquino maintained a dignified silence as Duterte made a bonfire of his democratic reforms, or as Duterte's minions threatened to file criminal charges on a litany of politically motivated charges.

His death, however, has sparked a spontaneous outburst of public sympathy, including from top members of the Duterte administration. Staunch Dutertista -- Foreign Affairs Secretary Teodoro Locsin Jr -- Cory Aquino's speechwriter back in the days -- was uncharacteristically sentimental, praising Noynoy as "sea-green incorruptible, brave under armed attack, wounded in the crossfire, [and] indifferent to power and its trappings."

Even staunch critics, after all, couldn't deny that the Aquinos have been among few leaders in Philippine history who remained untainted by corruption. They were among the few "disente," or decent ones, who made it to the Malacanang.

Noynoy Aquino's legacy goes well beyond that moral rectitude, or what I called "Moralpolitik", that Duterte constantly dismisses as nothing but sanctimony. Not only was Aquino the first Asian leader to dare to take China to an international court over its South China Sea grab -- which ruled in favor of the Philippines -- Aquino also made the fight against corruption a centerpiece of Philippine politics.

Expending considerable political capital to bring peace to Mindanao, Aquino bravely acknowledged historical injustices against Filipino Muslims. And despite widespread prejudice, Aquino steadfastly oversaw the finalization of a historic peace agreement with the Moro Islamic Liberation Front, paving the way for an autonomous Bangsamoro region for millions of marginalized Filipino Muslims.

Confined to a single, six-year term -- a constitutional provision that his mother oversaw to avoid another Marcos dictatorship -- Aquino never had sufficient time to become a truly transformational leader. Despite his limitations, history will judge him as the best transitional leader Filipinos could wish for, leaving the country more stable, prosperous and democratic. Alas, people voted for the antithesis in 2016.

But Philippine politics can swing back in the opposite direction. It was Cory Aquino's death in 2009 that paved the way for her son's presidency as the public clamored for a morally upright savior after years of corrupt leadership.

Noynoy Aquino's passing almost exactly a year before the 2022 elections could once again spark a groundswell of support for progressive politics. History may not repeat itself, but in the Philippines, it tends to rhyme.