Awake in the interregnum

Hindi siguro inakala ng mga taga-midya, na malamang noon ay bumubuwelo pa lamang sa pagkokober ng isa na namang taon ng mga sakuna at kontrobersiya, na magiging bahagi sila ng unang malaking eksena ng 2008. Isang advisory na inilabas ng Department of Justice ang nagbabala: ituturing na kriminal ang sinumang miyembro ng midya na susuway sa utos ng pulisya o militar sa panahon ng emergency. Ang sitwasyong-krisis sa mga rebeldeng sundalong Magdalo sa Manila Pen noong Nobyembre 29 at ang papel ng midya na nanatili sa loob ng otel nang sinalakay ito ng mga awtoridad ang pinaghalawan ng babala. Agad umalma ang mga grupo ng mga mamamahayag at lahat ng mga naniniwalang hindi dapat ikriminalisa ang trabahong ihatid sa mga mamamayan ang balita.

Makaraan ang ilang araw, marahil dahil na-presyur si DOJ Sek. Raul Gonzalez na ipaliwanag ang kautusang lubos na kinamumuhian lalo ng mga naniniwala sa liberal na demokrasya, isang destabilization plot o planong patalsikin sa poder si Arroyo ang inilahad na dahilan ng pagbababala sa midya. Ang petsa: Enero 22, ika-21 anibersaryo ng Mendiola Massacre. Huling araw ito ng Lakbayan o Martsa para sa Lupa, Pagkain, at Hustisyang Sosyal ng mga magsasaka mula pa sa malalayong rehiyon ng Timog Katagalugan, Bikol, Gitnang Luzon, Cagayan Valley, at Hilagang Luzon. Puntirya ng libu-libong mga magsasaka ang Mendiola, oo, pero hindi sila nahihibang isipin na mapapatalsik nila sa pagkilos na iyon ang isang pangulong, sa tuso at dahas, ay walang dadaig sa pagkapit sa kapangyarihang nakaw. Nais lamang nilang idaing kay Arroyo, tulad ng mga magsasaka noong 1987 kay dating pangulong Aquino, ang gutom at kawalang-hustisya na patuloy na namamayani sa kanayunang di pagmamay-ari nilang mga naglilinang ng lupa.

Pero heto na’t may tangkang busalan ang midya. Heto na’t inaresto ang limang sundalo na binansagang kasamahan ng mga rebeldeng Magdalo at diumano’y nasa akto ng paghahatid ng mga armas (Ang nabawing tatlong riple laban sa 10,000 pulis na ipapakalat sa Mendiola?) Ginagawa ng gobyerno ang lahat para mag-anyong destabilization plot ang isang lehitimong protestang kinakatawan ang nag-uumapaw na diskuntento ng mga mamamayan sa pang-ekonomiya at pampulitikang lagay ng bansa. Paulit-ulit na ang tugon ng mga lider ng oposisyon na ilan beses nang pilit idinawit sa parehong mga balak diumano. Ayon kay Anakpawis Rep. Crispin Beltran: “Anong gagawin namin sa gobyernong na-destabilize na ang sarili niya?”

Walang simpatiyang makukuha si Arroyo mula sa publikong sawa na, hindi sa mga protestang kung tutuusin maliliit at kakaunti pa, kundi sa gobyernong baon na sa leeg sa sariling kawalanghiyaan, mahilig pang mag-imbento ng mga multong nagsasawira lamang sa alaala ng pinakamarurumi nitong krimen. Marami na ang humihiling noon pa man ng pagpapatalsik sa pangulo, bakit sila susuporta sa praning na mga hakbang para pigilan ang isang pinagbibintangang plano?

Sa kabuuan, at pinatutunayan ng kasalukuyang pagtrato sa Lakbayan, wala nang pagbabalatkayo ang pagmamalupit ng gobyernong Arroyo sa mga magsasaka, na mayorya ng mga Pilipino. Tuwing sila’y nagsasama-sama sa lansangan, tinatawag silang mga destabilizer at binabalewala ang panawagan para sa tunay na reporma sa lupa. Tuwing sila’y nagsasama-sama sila sa kanayunan, tinatawag silang mga NPA, tinotortyur, at pinapatay (Ang pinakahuli ay si Teldo Rebamonte, dinukot ng Regional Mobile Group sa Masbate at natagpuan ang bangkay noong Enero 12).

Pero noong Disyembre lamang, ginamit ang mga magsasaka ng Sumilao, Bukidnon, para ibida ang Comprehensive Agrarian Reform Program at muling magmukhang maka-magsasaka (Huli niyang tinangka ito nang maglabas ng mga campaign poster na nag-aani siyang kuno, kumpleto ng kamisa-de-chino at sombrero). Nagdeklarang ibabalik ang lupaing kinamkam ng San Miguel Foods Inc. sa kanilang mga nagmartsa ng 1,700 kilometro makarating lamang ng Malakanyang. Ngayon, nasa Maynila muli ang 12 sa mga magsasaka para ireklamong di itinigil ng kompanya ang konstruksiyon sa kanilang lupa sa kabila ng utos ng pangulo.

Hindi mga destabilizer sa mata ng DOJ ang 55 magsasaka ng Sumilao, na may pareho namang karaingan sa 5,000 magsasakang naglakbay din at magpoprotesta sa Enero 22. Tulad ng mga bata sa Payatas at iba pang mukha ng karalitaan na pana-panahong niyayakag sa tabi ng pangulo, kinailangan ang mga magsasaka para likhain ang imahe ng pagka-mesiya ni Arroyo, na sa puntong ito ng kanyang pamumuno (isaisip na lamang ang P728-M Fertilizer Fund Scam) ay lalong nagiging kasuklam-suklam makita sa telebisyon o dyaryo. Kinailangan din ni Arroyo ang midya. Bagkus, hindi mga kriminal kung ituring ang mga mamamahayag na nagkober sa pagkawala ng hapis ng mga magsasakang pinaunlakan at pinangakuan ng pangulo, kahit di ito totoong balita (ang Manila Pen takeover ay kaganapang aktuwal, ang land takeover ay di maitaga sa bato maging ng Department of Agrarian Reform). Ito ang istabilidad sa pamamagitan ng panlilinlang—mabilis at mapayapa, bagaman pansamantala.

Ang istabilidad sa pamamagitan ng pananakot at dahas naman ay inirereserba para sa mga ayaw magpalinlang—tulad ng mga taga-midyang piniling maging saksi sa isang mahalagang pambansang krisis, tulad ng mga magsasakang tinraydor ng CARP at piniling iasa sa sariling lakas ang paggiit sa karapatan sa lupa’t pagkain. Parami nang parami ang mga tulad nila, kaya di nakapagtataka na ang eksenang sumalubong sa 2008 ay karugtong lamang ng maiigting na eksena ng tunggalian ng nakaraang mga taon.

Bilang mamamahayag, umaasa akong ikokober ko ang isang taon di lamang ng mga sakuna at kontrobersiya, kundi ng tagumpay ng mga di nagpapaloko at naghahanap ng istabilidad sa pamamagitan ng hustisya, na siyang tanging nagtatagal at para sa lahat.

I had been puzzling over it for the past few days. That’s why I was extremely glad that my friend and favorite Philippine Daily Inquirer reporter TJ Burgonio did the story on the bastardization of mural of the Neo-Angono Artists Collective commissioned by the National Press Club. It shed light on why the NPC did in what would be the last nail in the coffin on its stature as the “bastion of press freedom.” Of course, as everyone already knows, the NPC has long lost such a stature, if it ever genuinely had one, considering that it was bestowed not by the nature of its creation as a professional body of a basically reactionary press during the 1950s, but by individual officers (such as Satur Ocampo, Antonio Zumel, Tony Nieva) who eschewed the industry’s neutrality formula and committed themselves to journalism for social change during martial law. To put it mildly, the NPC is an elite organization that has little to do with upholding journalists’ welfare, professional standards, and freedom of the press. But why it would defile a piece of art despite the risk akin to altering a copy, was a mystery until it was reported that it was done for Gloria Macapagal-Arroyo, who was guest of honor at its unveiling. Of course. I should have known that it was only the queen of censorship who thinks that an artwork is as malleable as the headline of an administration newspaper.

The Arroyo regime brands and kills people it terms as “leftists” all over the country. So I guess the Presidential Security Group was acting in the name of counter-insurgency when it hunted the mural for “leftist” signs and had them painted over—obliterated or maimed. In this sense the artists’ creations are similar to the victims of extrajudicial killings, enforced disappearances, and torture. The “bastardization” of the artwork is horrifying on two levels. First is the act itself, a personal and professional affront to the artists and what they call their intellectual property rights. But because their work is on the overtly social theme of press freedom, its defacement is made more ironic and the affront more public. It is a public affront to see Arroyo admiring a mural on the History of Press Freedom devoid of signs that the press is as under seige today as it was during martial law. That she resisted immortalization of “minor” details that would remind of her own present tyranny—the name of the National Union of Journalists of the Philippines on a banner (actively opposed to the killings of journalists under the Arroyo regime), the news of Jonas Burgos’ abduction this year, an editorial of the International Federation of Journalists on the chilling effect of the anti-terrorism law—is a major censorship issue. I imagine that the artists must feel like how journalists who have their stories killed do. Both their creative labors are towards the projection of a certain truth, and denying this truth is not just about denying recognition or respect for their labors, it is about impoverishing public memory.

Yet it must be noted that unlike that of the mass media, the power of a painting nowadays to imprint itself on public memory is highly limited. Physically, the NPC mural is situated at a sad old building hardly anyone but a small mix of journalists, hao-siaos, businessmen, and politicians visit. It speaks not to the masses, although it tries to speak to journalists whose job it is to speak to the masses. Its defilement was meant to satisfy one person and her sycophants. That is perhaps why the NPC officers tried to justify the changes as “minor”. In reality they were trying to downplay the significance of such changes by downplaying the significance of the painting as a whole: exposing it as their private property of select spectators. But the artists, proud of a work that depicts how “press freedom is not only the concern of journalists and writers but of the common people as well,” reproduced it in their website. They know that it carries a message useful to the public in these trying times and which must therefore be popularized.

It is interesting that this popularization that the artists envision took place when the message was destroyed. Or at least on the surface it was destroyed. Because the message was about government censorship and resistance to it—the government censoring this message and the artists resisting it only reinforced it. I guess it was this underlying drama that compelled the PDI to make the story its banner.

Generally speaking, it is ticklish for any news organization to publish stories that would shed bad light on fellow journalists. TJ had asked me, concerned, if I thought that the story was balanced enough (it was). Here the dual tendencies of the mass media emerge. On one hand, you have the NPC becoming complicit in the government’s reactionary moves to tinker with public memory. On the other, you have the PDI exposing this complicity. So what the PSG had claimed they were trying to do—affirming the neutrality of the media by purging both “leftist” and “rightist” elements (although it still evades me why the saloon touch-ups of Randy David and Juan Mercado would make a painting less radical)—is impossible. The press is not and will never be neutral. Although TJ’s story was perfectly fair (it got the side of everyone concerned with the issue), the fact of its writing and landing on the front page was an exercise of a political choice to uphold what shameful industry colleagues preach about but ultimately fail to understand, much less assert: press freedom.

Press freedom, really, is the freedom of journalists and artists to make a choice to either preserve or change the status quo. It is the freedom to be revolutionary like the Katipunan symbol painted on Andres Bonifacio’s arm, or reactionary like the sappy arrow-pierced heart the NPC replaced it with. Historically, the nature of the mass media has been that of the latter. But those with good tastes and good principles know where to stand. That is, like the NPC mural in its original state shows, with the masses.

When the Arroyo regime first became an ally of the United States government’s “war on terrorism” and “terrorist” bombings in the country started to occur, only progressive groups had enough acumen and daring to float it.  That the U.S., Philippine government and military could be complicit in raising a bogey was initially treated by the public as mere speculation almost insulting to their worry and shock at novel images of such carnage. 

When Antonio Trillanes and the rest of the Oakwood mutineers in 2003 blurted out a state secret that made their insides coil—that the military ordered the bombings in the Davao airport, Sassa Wharf, and mosques in Mindanao—speculation grew heavy with the tinge of truth. By then, the military had blundered and been implicated in collusion in its operations against the Abu Sayyaf. By then, the “terrorist” crackdown had victimized thousands of innocent Muslims nationwide.

Yesterday, Glorietta was bombed, leaving 10 dead and more than a hundred wounded. Once more, Trillanes spoke up. He called it a repeat of Oplan Greenbase, the government’s pretext “to justify repressive actions against the people to clamp down on peaceful protests and subdue the rising public clamor for her to resign” and “to divert public attention away from the controversies hounding GMA.” By now, the rebel soldier has a more legitimate mandate as a senator than Arroyo has as a President. By now, the regime has shown itself to be capable of far more worse things, such that the idea that it must have orchestrated this latest ”terrorist” attack has lodged itself into the minds of many Filipinos. It has, finally, graduated from airy speculation to firm belief.

(The Philippine Daily Inquirer, in its banner story the next day, didn’t even bother to attribute the speculation before quoting Norberto Gonzales’ ironic “What kind of minds are these?” In journalism, this either means they deliberately left out Trillanes’ statement or recognized it as a widely accepted notion.)

The timing, after all, is not just suspect, it is outrageously so. The past few weeks the regime has been displaying unparalleled shamelessness through acts of unparalleled shamefulness. There are few images more repulsive than bundles of money in paper bags or brown envelopes being distributed inside the Palace to congressmen and local government officials. As it is when you are caught with your pants down, no explanation, deadpan or red-faced, will conceal the truth: that the whole lot of them was bribed get rid of an impeachment complaint against Arroyo resting on an anomalous $329M National Broadband Network deal. That the whole lot of them conspired to preserve in power someone who has cheated, lied, plundered, broke the Constitution, sold our sovereignty, and lest anyone forget, killed more than 800 civilians and is reponsible for the disappearance of almost 200. It provokes anger, propels action, and inspires change. Bishops have started the “Resign Gloria” refrain. 

Indeed, there are few images more repulsive than the one evoked by this latest political scandal on the brink of snowball; a “terrorist” bombing in a highly popular place in the Metro is one of them. It creates confusion, breeds immobilization, and compels people to rally behind the authorities. Or at least that’s what it used to do.  Although perhaps unarticulated as such, many Filipinos now believe in the “state terrorism” that progressive groups and Trillanes have been decrying for ages. It is not just the use of military-exclusive C4 in the Glorietta bombing that has been so crude, after all. 

It is no longer accurate to say that they are simply a team
out on a search
seemingly,
and often truthfully,
interminable.

Sharing desaparecido, the name of loved ones,
common are they in tears—
sparkling,
trickling,
gushing forth—
to finally evaporate-solidify in
a fury immortal as justice.

Common are they in hope as a shadow heartbeat.

And they troop
to streets camps courts fields,
like hounds sniffing out a trail left by fascists,
careless or careful in obeying
the state machinery’s most carefree of deadly missions.
Let it be known that it is not the nature
of a mother
brother
son sister
father
to be attracted to the smell
of blood on cement, wire, or gun-butts.
This morbid endurance
to chase after traces of
stale cigarette smoke and engine exhaust,
sweat on abandoned plastics and blindfolds,
ashes of incinerated flesh,
rotting bodies in mud graves shallow
and other horrors
evocative
of that smile, that voice, that imprint of a soul,
is a symptom of something gone terribly wrong.

So they shake placard faces in faces.
The former is a fixed expression of an absence so deep
it burrowed back in time
and nestled right at the heart
of the continuing struggle:
between
oppression and self-might
between
ignorance and possession
between
capitulation and dying
between
reaction and liberation.

It is no longer accurate to say that they are simply a search team
that holds hands
and lights a candle
for the nation’s disappeared.

They, too, have found their memory.

***

Desaparecidos under the Arroyo regime (as of October 9, 2007): 184

I came to the protest action on the 35^th anniversary of martial law last September 21 camera-less. My favorite reportage weapon was unwittingly locked inside the office that day. It was just as well. It was kind of fun just being there, observing the conduct of things, not having to be on the lookout for every snap-worthy piece of action. In short, just truly being part of a highly righteous and symbolic act of people’s indignation against the obstinate Gloria Macapagal-Arroyo regime.

Even the most veteran martial law activists who lived through the worst of the Marcos dictatorship agree that there is nothing that happened then that is not being repeated today. Of killings, massacres, disappearances, torture, illegal arrests and detention of ordinary civilians and activists, the Arroyo regime has a mounting toll and openly barbaric generals under its wing to shock the international community. Of harassment and suppression of the legal opposition, it has left the Supreme Court balking and chasing after executive decisions with an increasingly inutile sword called the Philippine Consitution. Of First Family corruption, it has inclined the public to think that convicted plunderer Joseph Estrada is a saint (vis-à-vis Gloria) and Imelda Marcos at least having the wit to appear merely delusional and not totally crass, unlike thug-like Mike. Of illegitimate mandate, well, with the still unraveling saga of the Hello Garci tapes and of the highest election commissioner figuring in a most anomalous million-dollar government contract, it really takes the cake.

That is why none of us who were babies during martial law can say that the horror of that period is past. It is our present, has been for quite a while now. Perhaps, the only difference is that fewer are aware of it as acutely as when the dark curtain then fell so dramatically, with the grim-faced proclamation, the curfew, the media takeover, the mass arrests. Nowadays, the state has learned to finesse its ways. Why arrest a hundred people at the same time when, one by one, they could be silenced forever? Why impose a curfew when you can just unleash soldiers unto communities with orders to be extra active at night? The state has also been aided in a big way by the debilitated functions of the mainstream mass media. Why rob television stations of their franchise when they produce exactly the kind of fluff that distorts, masks, and distracts from the realities at hand?

Of course, many times under the Arroyo regime, journalists act valiantly and are harassed and killed as are activists. Still on the extreme end of the spectrum of tyrannical response to media, a newspaper office was raided last year. And a day before the 35^th anniversary of martial law last week, a film was banned.  

The Movie and Television Review and Classification Board’s X-rating of Rights, a series of public service announcements on the human rights situation, is yet another ghost of the dictatorship come alive. (Read Lisa Ito’s Cut the Censorship, Shatter the Silence and Francis Joseph Cruz’s Censoring the Censors) The MTRCB’s chosen words of justification this time: “Scenes in the film are presented unfairly, one-sided and undermines the faith and confidence [in] the government and duly constituted authorities.” Obviously, not within what the Supreme Court, in Gonzalez vs. Katigbak, defined as limits to the constitutional right to freedom of expression: that censorship is allowable “only under the clearest proof of a clear and present danger of a substantive evil to public morals, public health or any other legitimate public interest.”

Citing such a doctrine is of course unnecessary to ascertain that the MTRCB does not have at heart the public interest, but that of the ruling regime which Rights—in several brilliant and thought-provoking ways— exposes and opposes. It is only necessary to cite as a challenge to anyone who is saddened, as I am, that the protesters last September 21 was a fiery crowd of thousands but was not big enough to barrel their way through a police barricade and into Mendiola. To anyone who wishes that more would see the iron fist clenched around the necks of their countrymen, feel the one constricting their own, and rage like the first quarter stormers of old.

For people to snap out of this craftily manufactured 21^st century stupor, we would need films and all kinds of creative and grassroots-based endeavour with the sole purpose of undermining “faith and confidence in the government and duly constituted authorities.” Because the Arroyo regime does not have nor deserve the faith and confidence of a people ruled through treachery and fascism. Precisely, the challenge is to become, as best as one can, a “clear and present danger” to a dictatorship that only defiance and uprising can stop from killing, from plundering, from basically making a nation relive martial law, the kind more terrible because undeclared.