Wanted 02/01/2007

ON THE face of it, our circumstances today do look desperate.

We have, as the Catholic Bishops' Conference of the Philippines (CBCP) has just pointed out -- thank God we now have someone heaven-sent guiding it, who is Angel Lagdameo; the previous one smelled of sulfur -- murder and mayhem rioting like hoodlums, with government unable or unwilling to do a thing about it. Hell, with government aiding and abetting it at every turn. We have, as the CBCP has also just pointed out, an impending election with all the machinery for cheating in place, the Commission on Elections, the electoral body that doesn’t know how to count votes, at the heart of it.

We have, as the CBCP has further pointed out, a President who is not the president at all. Or in its more churchly language, one shrouded in much controversy, the “Hello Garci” scandal being one of the “unresolved” issues of the 2004 elections.

We have, as sundry commentators have pointed out, or as our own senses warn us, an ironfisted ruler who is universally loathed but who has been able to do what she pleases with this country; an opposition in shambles with no political or moral authority to commend it to the public; no political figure in sight to pose a serious challenge to the usurper; a military that sets dishonesty up for emulation and nobility down for incarceration; duly elected local officials booted out by a President who never won a presidential election; a people losing all hope things will get better.

On the face of it, our circumstances today do look desperate. But that was the same face of this country two-and-a-half decades ago. We had pretty much the same circumstances then.

In the early 1980s, we had a dictatorship headed by an ironfisted ruler who was universally hated but who was able to do what he pleased with this country. Though assailed by lupus and an increasingly hostile US Congress, Ferdinand Marcos seemed destined to last forever: On the very twilight of his rule, the Reagan government was still talking about him being part of the solution. The military was in total control, a military that rewarded evil (also called mindless obedience), and punished good (also called mindful dissent).

There wasn’t much of an opposition, all challenges by way of the vote being thwarted by barefaced cheating. Which made boycott the only sane response to offers of elections periodically dangled by the dictatorship. Murder and mayhem were rife, quite apart from internment in the camps for harboring political beliefs contrary to the fascistic ones of the New Society, the forerunner of today’s Strong Republic. And we were a people that had given up hope things could be better.

Then from out of the blue came a Cory Aquino. Or probably more accurately from out of the red, which was the blood her husband spilled on the tarmac in August 1983. The murder of Ninoy Aquino, of course, harnessed the nation’s anger. But it does not explain how Cory became the hope of her country.

Indeed, Cory seemed to have everything stacked against her from the start. She was not a politician, or savvy in political affairs. While Ninoy lived, she had stayed in the background, content to be -- as Marcos would later tag her deprecatingly -- a housewife. She was not charismatic, she spoke in a quiet and unobtrusive way, her detractors having less polite words for quiet and unobtrusive. And to top it all, she belonged to what Marcos had been reviling as the “oligarchy.” Cory would later be called a modern-day Joan of Arc, but Joan was the daughter of a poor peasant driven to serve God and country from ecstatic visions. Cory was the daughter of a rich landowner, driven to serve God and country by a traumatic experience.

But she conjured a vision that had all the power in the world, and that has all the bearing on our present circumstances. She stoked up the image of being the opposite of Marcos. In the end, it did not matter what her personal circumstances were. All that mattered was what she represented. Marcos was corrupt, she was innocent. Marcos was death, she was life. Marcos was tyranny, she was freedom. Marcos was repression, she was liberation. Marcos was a liar, she told the truth. Marcos was despair, she was hope. Marcos was a devious politician, she was an honest citizen. Marcos was a nation-wrecker, she was a house-maker. Marcos was evil, she was good. The list went on and on.

Which brings me to my question: Why can’t someone like that emerge from the loins of today’s despair? Someone who can be the opposite of Gloria Macapagal-Arroyo? The thing to give voice to the nation’s anger is already there -- the “Hello Garci” tape. Why can’t someone who is the opposite of Arroyo arise from those ashes?

The mistake is for us to look for someone like that from the ranks of the usual suspects, who are the politicians. Why should it be a politician? Cory was not, but she compelled the politicians to rally around her by the force of what she represented. Enough to compel even Doy Laurel, who imagined himself (completely wrongly) to be Marcos’ able-bodied challenger, if not replacement, to give way to her came the snap elections. Don’t look for the opposite of Arroyo from the ranks of the politicians, look for him or her from the ranks of the artists, the teachers, the youth, the poets, the innocent.

The issue is not political, it is moral. The solution is not political, it is moral. Or the first will follow the second.

Don’t worry about the organization or the resources or the manpower. If you build it, they will come -- said that line in “Field of Dreams.” Which is just another way of saying that an idea whose time has come will demand to be fulfilled, will bend everything -- even the will of a tyrant -- to its will.

Think of this as a full-page ad. Wanted: The Opposite of Gloria.

http://opinion.inquirer.net/inquireropinion/columns/view_article.php?article_id=46809

Psychic twins 01/31/2007

THAT was a breathtaking piece of demagoguery George W. Bush unleashed upon the Filipinos, if not the world, last weekend. He called up his equally miserable and alienated counterpart in that miserable and alienated part of the world called the Philippines to thank her for her support in fighting terrorism.

We know at least that that phone call really took place. We know that not because Gloria Macapagal-Arroyo’s voice, if not Bush’s, is unmistakable, something we heard in another phone conversation some time ago. We know that because an American official confirmed the fact. This government being what it is, it is not beyond inventing it (certainly it has not been loath to embellish it). Bush called up Arroyo in Davos at 4 p.m. last Friday to congratulate her for her “fantastic leadership” in fighting the Abu Sayyaf.

That is all very nice, except for one thing: Nobody believes Bush is fighting terrorism. Indeed, nobody believes Bush, period. Still, indeed, nobody believes Arroyo, either.

Of course, Bush will praise Arroyo for being at his corner at this time. Nobody else is. Not the United Nations, and not the usual suspects, which are America’s traditional allies, except the Philippines, probably not even the government he installed in Iraq after invading it on the basis of an outright and outrageous lie. Bush’s latest decision to escalate US troop deployment in Iraq has met only worldwide condemnation, even from timid Japan. Japan’s foreign minister said invading Iraq on the notion that it had weapons of mass destruction was a fatal mistake, and sending more troops to Iraq on the notion it will improve the situation there is an even bigger mistake.

There is, in fact, a precedent for Bush calling up Arroyo to congratulate her for being a passionate crusader against terror. That was George Bush Sr., who was still Ronald Reagan’s vice president at the time, while on a visit here toasting Ferdinand Marcos for the latter’s passionate adherence to democracy. Like father, like son.

But what can one say at that spectacle of Bush Jr. coddling Arroyo, or the other way around? They deserve each other!

They do quite incidentally in more ways than one. Bush’s congratulatory phone call last Friday drove home one awesome point to me with the force of Zen enlightenment. That is, that they are uncanny political psychic twins.

Both are the scions of presidents who did not particularly distinguish themselves and ended up being battered by flamboyant rivals in elections. Bush the elder lost to Bill Clinton, who sneered at him with the line, “It’s the economy, stupid.” Diosdado Macapagal lost to Ferdinand Marcos who sneered at him with the line, “Alis d’yan” [“Get out of there”]. Both scions carried a huge chip on their shoulders. Both got to have the hots for absolute power.

Both cheated in elections to become president. Bush ripped off Al Gore in Florida, with no small aid from his brother Jeb, who orchestrated the cheating, not least by wrongly listing large numbers of blacks and Democrats as “felons” who were ineligible to vote. Jeb also fought off a recount that would have shown Gore ahead.

Arroyo, well, ask Garci, though all you will get are lies. But ask him anyway if only to elevate his blood pressure to lethal levels.

America lost more, of course, not just in having a thug in the White House but in not having an enlightened being in the form of Gore in it. But, well, FPJ doesn’t loom badly from hindsight: He seemed at least to have been possessed of epic decency in contrast to the epic indecency of the one currently occupying Malacañang.

Both Arroyo and Bush are breathtakingly mediocre individuals whose capacity for evil their respective constituents completely underestimated. Bush was -- and is -- a bumbling idiot who bumblingly idiotically turned the world into a quagmire, trashing the UN, trashing age-old protocols about international relationships, and trashing the foundations of peace his predecessors spent their lives to build. Arroyo was just hanging on by the coattails of Corazon Aquino and Jaime Cardinal Sin until she was thrust to power. And then she screwed them, too, turning this country into a quagmire, trashing the presidency, trashing democracy and trashing every hallowed tradition of freedom her predecessors spent their lives to build.

Both are God’s -- or the devil’s -- gift to lying. Bush invaded Iraq claiming it had weapons of mass destruction. Arroyo invaded the presidency claiming votes of massive invention. Well, she said she would not run to begin with.

Both have completely terrorized their countries -- in Bush’s case apart from the world. Bush unleashed a new McCarthyism upon the United States, witch-hunting terrorists who were people who looked suspiciously like Arabs or wore beards, luxurious or otherwise, demanding levels of patriotism known previously only to Joseph McCarthy and sundry jingoists. “You are either for me or against me,” he said after 9/11, which, like I said earlier, made the choice extremely easy. Later, one magnificent philosopher-cum-sage-cum-student of glorious cultural learnings would come to show him up. His name was Borat.

Arroyo, well, look at the characters around her: Ronnie Puno, Raul Gonzalez, the Garci generals, the Prosperos and Katzenjammer Kids from Bicol of Congress, and Mr. Libel Suit himself. And count the number of dead over the last couple of years.

Both have become the most hated persons on the planet. Both, like Medusa, have caused people to die simply by gazing at them, which in these media-fed times is virtually inescapable. Both have become the Number One (and Two) recruiters of al-Qaeda.

Ah, but there’s the rub. The Americans have already rejected Bush, turning him into a Barely Smoldering, Never Mind Burning, Bush for the remainder of his second term. When will we do the same for someone who never won it?

http://opinion.inquirer.net/inquireropinion/columns/view_article.php?article_id=46559

Conspirator 01/30/2007

MANILA, Philippines -- I remember that there was much debate among the Conspiracy Café people about whether to charge entrance fee at the gate or only at the “Music Room.” The place has a garden outside, where people who just want to talk hang around; and a small room inside, to where people who want to listen to the performers perform amble.

Eventually, proponents of the latter won out. The speakers aimed at the garden to enable the patrons there to hear the performances as well were taken out, and only the music room charged an entrance fee. It stood to reason: Only those patrons who chose to bathe in the waters of the musical, and magical, springs inside needed to pay for it. Listening to those glorious sounds was a privilege, and one that came at so small a price.

I recall this now with no small amusement. Because these concerns, which elicited much passionate discourse, were clearly lost on one of Conspiracy’s neighbors out back. Conspiracy is located on Visayas Avenue in Quezon City, a commercial area. But the neighborhood at the back of Visayas Avenue is residential. Unfortunately for Conspiracy, it happened to be in proximity with a resident, or residents -- a middle-aged couple -- who did not share its view about the fabulous worth of its musical offerings. Indeed a couple that believed that people shouldn’t have to pay to listen to these things, they have to be paid to do so. Despite Conspiracy’s heroic efforts to insulate its sound, some of it apparently continued to escape through to their ears.

That was the reason that patrons found a huge sign at Conspiracy last Tuesday night announcing that the place was being closed by order of City Hall. The neighbor, who apparently had some connections with City Hall, lodged a complaint, and City Hall ordered Conspiracy to cease and desist from spewing “noise pollution” (its term) into this planet. I am seriously suggesting that as the title for the next album of any of the artists involved with Conspiracy -- “Noise Pollution.” Isn’t it a grand (or as Gary Granada says, "gara") album title? Or title of a song?

Unfortunately, a couple of things were lined up for last Tuesday at Conspiracy. They were the book launching of Charlson Ong’s novel, “Banyaga: A Song of War,” published by Anvil; and a session with Session Road. City Hall, with its tremendous talent for making life miserable for taxpayers, issued the closure order at 4:45 p.m. with an almost gleeful view to making an appeal next to impossible. Petty tyrants may be petty, but they are, oh, so tyrannical. Happily, the Conspiracy people -- by dint of cajoling, badgering and pleading -- were able to make the next-to-impossible possible, and were able to bargain at least for the continuation of the book launching. Happily, too, Karina Bolasco, by dint of racking up a minor fortune in cell phone bills, managed to assure all and sundry the event was pushing through. A crowd of the usual suspects, writers, artists and poseurs came through. They came late, but they came -- and were game, singing themselves hoarse afterward. Now that, I grant, Conspiracy has to pay people to listen to.

The reason I am writing about all this is that for the strangest reason, the thing got blown out of proportion and landed on TV, radio and newspapers. I got to be interviewed a couple of times because my name kept cropping up as the owner of, or one of the partners in, Conspiracy. I’ve had to explain that though I am proud to be a “Conspirator,” I am nowhere near to owning it. Nobody is. Conspiracy is the brainchild of Gary Granada who conspired with fellow singers Noel Cabangon, Bayang Barrios, Cynthia Alexander, Joey Ayala and Cooky Chua to put it up. They invited other people to join the conspiracy, and last I looked, some 150 people had done so -- artists, NGO people, and plain lovers of music, however some might dispute the term. You can’t own more than five shares, at P15,000 per. I claim the princely sum of two shares. The place itself is rich only in goodwill, creativity and talent.

I’ve had to explain two other things as well. One, it is not true that the place was shut down for political reasons. Surprisingly, that one rumor flew off faster than a speeding bullet, Conspiracy’s attempt at mischievous humor finally catching up with itself. No, Gloria Macapagal-Arroyo had nothing to do with it, Conspiracy being engaged only in dark plots to ensnare more patrons to survive the horrible business climate today under her. Two, it is not true that the place has been operating without a business permit. The only reason it does not have one physically in its hands is that City Hall refuses to release it in light of its neighbor’s complaint. But Conspiracy has been paying for that permit faithfully and on time.

In truth and in sum, the only reason Conspiracy was shut down last Tuesday was that a couple found the lush sounds Conspiracy was denying its garden patrons -- sounds that were seeping in their direction -- a diabolical distraction designed to disturb their disposition, and they lodged a protest against it. Happily, that has been settled, the closure lasting only 24 hours. An inspector from City Hall found the place to have reasonably complied with demands to mute its sound. Quite unhappily though, it may now offer only “acoustic music,” effectively ruling out explorations in jazz and ethnic music, which are heavily percussive. But you never know, maybe, some music lover-cum-philanthropist out there might want to offer to soundproof the place completely (which is costly) and make everybody happy.

I have my own reason to be happy at the tempest in the teacup, for which I must thank its raiser, or the complainant, profusely. It’s that I’ve just gotten all the ethical excuse I need to advertise Conspiracy shamelessly.

http://opinion.inquirer.net/inquireropinion/columns/view_article.php?article_id=46356

Absolute terror 01/29/2007

MANILA, Philippines--Don’t look now, but we could wake up tomorrow in absolute fear for our lives. Courtesy of a government that likes springing nasty surprises on us while we sleep.

That’s what’s going to happen to us if we allow the current anti-terror bill to pass. It won’t stop terror, it will unleash terror. The people standing in its way in the Senate are few, though quite formidable in the strength of their convictions. They include Nene Pimentel and Jamby Madrigal, both of whom have been raising shrill warnings about the new iniquity. As both point out, the anti-terror bill will mount full-blown martial law in this country.

The new terror bill ups the ante on the terrorist methods of fighting terror. Pimentel points out the exceptionally fascistic ones: One, it authorizes the surveillance, interception and recording of messages of suspected terrorists. Two, it allows the arrest without warrant and imprisonment of suspects on the basis of the say-so of anonymous informants and assets. Three, it allows the ironically named law enforcers access to the bank deposits and other property records of suspects. And four, it allows the same ironically named law enforcers to seize those same deposits and assets.

As Pimentel points out, the arrest without warrant of people on the say-so of hooded figures brings us straight back into the days of the Makapili. Well, what can you expect from a Macabebe? Metaphorically that is, she is a daughter of Lubao. But the comparison with the Japanese Occupation is accurate: We are living in similar times, under another Occupation, and with much the same results.

That such an obscenity has no place in a country that pretends to be sane—never mind democratic—is patent. But what makes it even more obscene from where I stand are three things.

First off, all that anti-terror posturing is no better or worse than all the gaya-gaya—from Elvis to basketball, from anti-communism to anti-terrorism—we’ve done with things American. Until George W. Bush took it upon his head to pose as God’s avenging sword after 9/11, Gloria Macapagal-Arroyo couldn’t even spell the word terrorist, she was busy just trying to survive with Erap’s loyalists making life miserable for her. Well, the very premises of Bush’s anti-terror campaign, which GMA merely imported wholesale along with flour, are now being questioned not just by the world but by America itself. Certainly the American voters have rejected the idiot who spawned it, the one who said idiotically, “You are with me or against me,” making the choice an easy one—would anyone in his right mind be for him? Americans have since rediscovered their right minds and turned him into a lame duck in the last elections—as Filipinos will do to GMA this coming May. But the point is clear: This is not fighting terror, this is mounting terror. This is not defending democracy, this is pulverizing democracy.

More than that, the way things are today, we need the kind of anti-terror bill being loosed by GMA and one Ponce Enrile, who shares with GMA a talent for lying—he mounted a fake assassination attempt on himself to justify Marcos’ martial law—like a hole in the head. We already have most of the elements of martial law, as it is. We have political activists and journalists being slaughtered with impunity. We have elected local officials being ousted from office on one pretext or another, while the father of all liars, that fellow named Hello Garci, continues to thrive, and will probably become an elected official after May, “elected” in the same way his boss, GMA, got “elected” in 2004. We have dissent and protest being silenced by law and lokohan, by corruption and coercion, by madness and murder. Do we want a legal instrument that justifies all that, too?

But still even more than that, look at the utter stupidity, if not monstrosity of it all. Under the new anti-terrorism law, suspected terrorists will have themselves surveilled, will have their conversations tapped, will have their property confiscated, and will languish in jail after being deemed to have committed, or plotted to commit, or being capable of committing acts of terrorism against the citizens of this country.

Well, by God, by Allah, and by your leave, we have someone who has committed an act of breathtaking terrorism against the good citizens of this country, whose guilt has been proven beyond a shadow of doubt by a serendipitous act of official Isafp monitoring (never mind surveillance), but who has not had her property confiscated, who has not had her name entered in the list of the world’s most wanted criminals, who is not rotting in the wilds of Muntinlupa, the key to her cell delivered somewhere in the bottom of the Philippine Deep. She is in fact the self-appointed president of this country.

What can be a more terroristic act committed against the citizens of this country than planting a bomb at the heart of their vote? Planting a bomb in a church or schoolhouse doesn’t come close to it. What could be more ironclad proof of it than the self-appointed winner of the elections caught on tape, in all the glory or terror of her distinctive, inimitable, DNA-imprinted voice, plotting with a Comelec commissioner not just to steal the vote but also to steal a public school teacher-cum-poll watcher, and to hold up the truth she carries in her heart for ransom? Better to admit as evidence the word of characters with bayongs on their faces?

We want to push back terror in this country? We want to stop terror in this country? We want to obliterate terror in this country? Easy.

Just throw the one person guilty as hell of it to the bottom of the Philippine Deep.

The rest is just fomenting terror. Pure, venomous, and absolute terror.

http://opinion.inquirer.net/inquireropinion/columns/view_article.php?article_id=46155