IN THE aftermath of heated presidential, congressional and local elections on May 10th, the Philippines basked in the glow of international commendation of its use of computer technology to produce, for the first time, seemingly indisputable results. But then a mysterious masked figure dubbed Koala Boy dropped out of the foliage to shatter the national daydream about stable governments untroubled by accusations of electoral fraud.

In a widely disseminated video-recording, a so-far unidentified man said he was a witness to wholesale electronic fraud during the elections. He is known as Koala Boy because the peculiar mask that he wore to disguise himself gave him a marsupial look. He said people, whom he did not name, short-circuited the computerised vote-counting system, selling blocks of fraudulent votes to candidates—in one case charging a vice-presidential candidate 1.4 billion pesos ($30m) for 7m votes. There were 50m registered voters.

Both the election commission and the supplier of the vote-counting system scoffed at his allegations, as did the vice-presidential candidate. Koala Boy's tale lacks evidence, but plenty of politicians found it plausible. Several defeated candidates for congressional or local positions testified at a hearing in Congress that they had been approached by people (again, unidentified) offering to sell electronically generated fake votes. The candidates said they had declined the offers, with the implication that their victorious opponents were less scrupulous and had accepted.

It is possible that such offers were made by confidence tricksters who had no means of rigging the counting. It is also possible that Koala Boy's tale is a fiction concocted by persons unknown to shake faith in the elections, and so undermine the authority of the incoming national and local governments.

But whether or not there was actual fraud, Koala Boy has given a jolt to confidence in the computerised system. The system is meant to reinforce stability by removing doubt about the legitimacy of elected governments.

The immediate worry for the incoming president, Senator Benigno “Noynoy” Aquino, son of a former president, the late Corazon Aquino, is that Koala Boy's allegations will delay his official proclamation as the winner of the election. Mr Aquino has an unassailable plurality of the votes. But under the constitution it is Congress's job to make the final tally, before June 30th, when the outgoing president, Gloria Macapagal Arroyo, must step down. If arguments about the credibility of the election count prevent Congress from meeting the deadline, there is the risk of a dangerous power vacuum.

Nobody has suggested that Mr Aquino cheated. But even if he is proclaimed president on time, the legitimacy of the new national and local governments will be overshadowed by doubt, until Koala Boy's allegations are properly debunked.

For generations, Filipinos have quipped that there are no losers in their elections—only winners and those cheated of victory. As long as such cynicism persists, the new election technology will be judged to have failed in its purpose of returning governments with incontestable mandates; and governments will remain weak.