Philippine Mainstream Media has this rather absurd habit of reporting about the State of the Nation Address, in that they count the number of times the President is applauded during a speech.  I like to think of blinking “Applause” signs hanging under the rafters of Batasang Pambansa, where on cue, the audience will clap.  I think of it as a rather Pavlovian reaction: the gallery applauds the lies and incompetence of the President’s nationwide PowerPoint presentation.

There’s nothing about a SONA that (to use a favorite phrase) strikes me as strange.  In an ideal world, the SONA is supposed to be a truthful, transparent presentation of the ills and the problems of the Philippines, and what The Present Government is doing about it.  A SONA by Gloria Arroyo, surprisingly, does not depart too much from that ideal: a SONA is a truthful, transparent presentation of the ills and the problems caused by The Government that’s running the Philippines, and what The Present Government is not doing about it.

Truthful… by virtue of implication.

I have to disagree that the SONA is the rhetorical device used by the incumbent Regime to placate the Filipino people; that distinction goes to relief goods and crisp P500 bills you get at Landbank as a “subsidy” if you’re poor.  The SONA is a forum where, once a year, we celebrate lies with the intent to dupe the Filipino people into thinking that we have a functional government and a “Strong Republic,” that we feel the progress.  We don’t have to experience or acknowledge progress, ladies and gentlemen: we only need to feel it.  Besides, rhetoric requires that you know what’s going on.

I’ll be counting applause.

Leave it to Executive Secretary Eduardo Ermita to make the “impassioned defense” for the belaguered President (Inquirer.net report, 7/20/08).  The defense comes following the Social Weather Stations survey where Gloria Arroyo was the most unpopular President since Ferdinand Marcos.  The Executive Secretary, who strikes me as a fanciful name for the Presidential stooge, says:

“We must always do what is right, we must act … in a way that will address the problems of our countrymen, and not what is necessarily popular because one can be popular but it does not necessarily mean that what one is doing is right.”

Pardon my ignorance and my impertinence, but I always had this idea that the Presidency is supposed to be a popularity contest.  We live in a popular democracy where the President is the one who gets the most votes.  Last I checked, it was the fact that Arroyo probably did not get the most votes in the 2004 national elections that became the continuing question to her mandate.  I know it’s an old issue, but it’s an old issue that begs answers; one of the reasons why we find it so difficult to oust GMA is because there is reason to believe that she is not actually the President.

I have to agree with Sec. Ermita that the people, not surveys, judge the President’s worth.  Again, pardon my ignorance and my impertinence, but the last time I checked, the Social Weather Stations (or any survey company for that matter) does not ask questions to galunggong swimming around in a bucket, asking politically-inclined fish about their opinion of the President.  The survey is a tool to gauge the impression people get about the President.  It makes for a good social experiment: someone has to go to the queues for NFA rice, the MRT, or to those banks that release P500 subsidies to the poor and, well, ask them.

Come to think of it, you can turn Ermita’s defense on its head.  While one’s popularity does not necessarily lead to right decisions, the right decisions actually make for a popular President.  It’s easy to explain why Arroyo is not popular: she hasn’t exactly been the poster girl for making the right political and economic decisions, which makes her not the poster girl for popularity.

She does make for a poster girl for everything else, in the literal sense of the term.

I just turned 23 yesterday to the tune of beer and a sore back. What better time to start my year off by talking about politics. Again.

* * *

I don’t see why The Government should be in denial right now. Whether there was a coup plot or not, the mere fact that there is talk of a coup should be enough for The Government to heed the warning: it is unstable. The legitimacy of the administration has long rested on quicksand, so much so that thunderbolts and lightning - of the political sort - bode well to be heeded. History lessons.

I’m not talking about an Antonio Trillanes IV who would hostage five-star hotels for the lauriat buffet catering. I’m talking about 1605: the Gunpowder Plot. We’re not talking about ranking officers in the Army making a barracks out of a hotel. We’re talking about ordinary people disgruntled enough to consider the unthinkable; to store gunpowder underneath the House of Parliament and blow it up. Guy Fawkes got arrested, and we all watched V for Vendetta.

This is, of course, not a prescription for our ills. Yet this is the formula of a coup. People forget about tanks and rallies and blog entries. People do not forget ideas.

* * *

Following the “investigation” surrounding the recent “coup plot” by Atty. Homobono Adaza - which begs me to ask what the frock was that all about and why he’s worth arresting - I myself would take a less-than-optimistic view of what will happen in the next few years. After all, AFP Chief of Staff Alexander Yano said it himself. Consider these quotes:

“Coup d’etat or no coup d’etat, what was clearly manifested in the arrest of Attorney Adaza, et al, is the collaborative vigilance of security forces, both the AFP and the PNP, against possible destabilizers.”

“Destabilization may be carried out in different ways, not only thru a coup d’etat.”

There’s a danger to all of this, if I may say so myself. Everyone’s a possible destabilizer, including myself. You don’t have to blow up anything these days to be a destabilizer, as long as you have an innate capacity to become one, that it is possible for you to become one. One man’s terrorist is another man’s freedom fighter… and a government’s destabilizer.

“Destabilization” is a catch-all catchphrase for just about everything these days, which is a serious problem. When you lump up the discontented with wretched criminals and terrorists, that itself is instability. That itself is unthinkable. To do so is to destabilize the very foundation of democracy: the dissenting opinion.

So you do not have to destabilize anything to be a destabilizer. All you need is the possibility of becoming a destabilizer, with the possible intent to challenge the order, to change things for the better, to have the gall to stand up to the political powers-that-be and say, “Hey! There’s something really wrong here.” Destabilization can be carried out by having an opinion, by having an idea, or in the case of Adaza, being at the wrong place at the wrong time.

“Collaborative vigilance?” Institutionalized fear, as I read it. Although you really can’t destabilize something that’s already unstable to begin with.

So if you’re all for change, if you’re all for the improvement of your lot, if you’re all for making your voice heard, if you have that one idea that will change things for the better, consider yourself a possible destabilizer.

WTF moments: I had an early birthday present from a thoughtful post by Ronin AnimeLover, who writes:

The youth are now proactive, not only in the streets but also in cyberspace as well. People are now taking their outrage from police-controlled environments to the untrekked world of digital information, a.k.a. the Internet.

And with their struggle supported by the launching of the blogs of Jun Lozada and Among Ed, respectively, and joining the ranks of the respectable political blogs of MLQ, Lester Cavestany, and Marck Ronald Rimorin, to name a few, it won’t be too long before the cloud of the Philippine political blogosphere gathers like water drops condensing into a massive thundercloud.

I like the idea of the youth being socially proactive through the Internet and all, and I like the ring of “water drops condensing into a massive thundercloud.”  All of a sudden, political meteorology sounds like such a good prospect.  But what really got me squirming - both with flattery and shame - is that the blogger lumped me up with Manolo Quezon and Lester Cavestany.  These are two people who deserve everything about being “respectable political bloggers.”  I, on the other hand, translate songs by Aegis.

Who?  Me?  Respectable political blogger?

I think it will please the likes of Arbet and Jester-in-Exile if I lifted my self-imposed political blogging moratorium and wrote more about politics, and if I postpone my post on the possibility of Renz Verano singing a Tagalized version of “Always Be My Baby” (I have it in my Drafts).  Which means I’ll end up doing two things: post the translation anyway (I still have to check if the measure matches) and lift my political blogging moratorium.

To be honest, even I can’t stand it.

Here’s the deal: for now, I’m making a self-imposed moratorium on political entries here in The Marocharim Experiment.  Granted that I’ll still be blogging about political matters over at Filipino Voices, but for now, I am making a political statement by not blogging about politics for as long as I can stand it.

For one, I’m getting tired of ranting about politics whenever I get the chance to blog.  I’m just a writer: I AM NOT A POLITICAL COMMENTATOR.  I cannot stress this enough.  It’s not because I’m in any kind of trouble from people because of my political views, it’s more like more and more people are making politically-charged entries (some even becoming political “commenters” in the process) without having a single idea about what exactly is so “political” about something political.

A case in point would be the thread of comments in Jun Lozada’s blog, especially in one of his entries, which has me all but thinking if these “commentaries” can pass off as legitimate arguments in a court (much less “rule”) of law.

Second reason why I’m imposing a political blogging moratorium in this blog: I seem to keep on repeating my political views over and over again, to the point that I’m sounding like a broken record.  The bottom line is resistance.  If you don’t believe that, then I hope that we can meet halfway by respecting each other’s views.  Now if you can’t understand that, I can’t help you.

Third, there are a lot of things I like to write about more than politics.  To be honest, politics is my least favorite topic to write about as a blogger.

Fourth, and perhaps the most important reason, is something I take from the cue of stuart-santiago: once a political person is given a political avenue to make a political viewpoint, everything becomes politicized to the point that you become nothing but political, that you may so come close to crapping and pissing politics.  I’m a very imbalanced writing personality: I really can’t commit myself to writing on a single niche because, among other things, I like writing about the inane.

So will I still participate in political blogging trout-slapping and (heaven forbid) piss-contests?  Well, only time will tell before I start addressing This Government through unflattering remarks that will probably have me going all paranoid again.

For now, Marocharim the Political Commentator is taking a brief break from this dizzying hurly-burly of political commentary.

Mainly because I really, really suck at it.

(DISCLAIMER: This is going to hurt.) 

I am not a big fan of Jun Lozada, I am not an avid reader of his blog, yet I feel a need - call it a messianic urge - to step up, cast away some of my aspersions against the guy, and to come to his defense.  There are things I will respectfully disagree with, as far his claims on the NBN-ZTE deal go.  There are things I will respectfully disagree with, especially for his “blog launch.”  Make no mistake about it, there are a lot of things I do not like about Jun Lozada.  I am not a card-carrying member of the Jun Lozada fan club.  To pose with him and to post pictures on a Multiply account is completely beneath me.  So there.

Yet even for every disagreement that I have against what Lozada said, and for every disagreement I will have for what Lozada will say in the future, I’m giving him the benefit of the doubt.  Jun Lozada stood up for causes like “truth,” “accountability,” “transparency…” causes that very few Filipinos these days will stand for.  I may not necessarily like Lozada’s interpretations of those causes.  Hell, I may not even like Lozada because he gets more comments in five entries than I do in 500, to be perfectly honest.  But again, I’m giving him the benefit of the doubt.

This is not a “Mabuhay ka” defense of Jun Lozada.  Instead, this is an attack on every single lemming - you heard me right, I said “lemming” - who casts stones and aspersions against Jun Lozada, yet do absolutely nothing to act upon the crises and problems of this nation.

You demand nothing more than silence, consent, blind obedience, passivity, apathy.  We could debate on perspectives, if you had some.  We could debate on issues, if indeed you are truly affected.  I myself would rather have a better, more credible whistleblower than Lozada, but he blew the whistle way before you lemmings ever did.  Make sure you heed these words: you have no more stake on the very future of this nation than that very moment you surrendered - no, castrated - yourselves of the very demands and responsibilities of being a citizen.  Pardon my crooked Filipino: tinanggal ninyo sa sarili ninyo ang karapatan na makinabang sa kinabukasan ng bansang ito nang inyong isinuko ang inyong mga responsibilidad bilang mga mamamayan.

The hell with planting camote on your backyards to “help alleviate the food crisis,” to vote for “lesser evils,” and to cross pedestrian lanes.  Every problem and every crisis you confront today is anything but the fault of Jun Lozada.  It’s painfully obvious it’s not my fault, either.  Not only are you barking on the wrong tree, you’re pissing on the wrong one.

Let me ask you this: what exactly have you done to help this country get out of the mess that it is in?  What?  Speak up because I want to know.  I want you to show me how you - in all your bravado of representation, in all your claims of speaking for others, in all the infinite wisdom that comes from the passage of time - are taking steps to spare the Filipino youth of the indignity of living in the shadow of this political mess.  More than that, I want to know what you have done.

I’m 22 years old.  I’m just a kid.  I have plenty of time left to change this society for the better by the time I die.  And I believe I have already done my share.  I’ve wrote, I’ve blogged, and I’ve rallied.  I admit, it’s still not enough.  Not enough to “do something about it,” but it’s more than what you lemmings do on weekdays that you watch brain-dead game shows allowing yourselves to smile when you have absolutely no reason to.  And you are freaking twice my age!  And you have the gall, the balls, and the stomach to put the very responsibility of making a better nation while you engage in a witch-hunt against Jun Lozada?

And you can actually stomach calling yourselves Filipinos?  Taxpayers?  Citizens?  Taong bayan?  And you can actually stomach giving me a dramatic excuse that you did this all for me?  What in the blue hell did the youth ever do to you that you have saddled them with a future bordering on hopelessness, and expect them to make a shining beacon out of this country?

That’s why as much as I don’t like - fine, as much as I loathe - Jun Lozada, I have to give him the benefit of the doubt.  But unlike Lozada - unlike you - I will not wait until I have a family to feed until I start worrying about the future of this country, and doing something about it.  Like you, this country is all I have.

The only difference is that I want to make this country better, and I’m doing more than my own fair share to compensate for your inactions.  You lemmings, on the other hand, are proof that hope is indeed wasted on the hopeless.

More from Jun Lozada’s blog: a message for the youth.

I have my doubts - well, “doubt” is a nice way to put it - on Lozada, and I’m not exactly his biggest fan.  The day I have dinner with Lozada is the day I get invited, which is not going to happen anytime soon.  What I do have a problem with is that far too many people twice my age send me messages; messages that seem to be exhortations of the ought-to-be, what was supposed to be done.  If anything, the adult mea culpa would be a lot like a Cat Stevens song.

We, “the youth,” are the “future.”

I’d like to take off from that perspective: we, “the youth,” as the “apologists” of history.  It is possible to excuse yourself from history if you’re too old to make things right, to depend upon the mistakes of the past to build upon an edifice.  It seems that adults are wont to make mistakes, and pass them on to the next generation as “lessons.”  Yet it is impossible for the youth to excuse themselves from history: it’s either you’re idealistic or naïve.  After all, time heals all wounds.

I can’t help but be recalcitrant and impertinent, but I don’t see any reason why the youth should be challenged to “make something” out of a political impasse.  For once, it behooves grown-ups - yes, myself included in this case - to face the jury before the bar of history, and pay for the consequences of making that history.  What is inexcusable is for grown-ups to depend upon the youth for the redemption of the nation.

I do agree that the youth are the hope of the Motherland.  Yet to echo Aristophanes: “Youth ages.  Immaturity is outgrown.  Ignorance can be educated and drunkenness can be sobered, but stupid lasts forever.”  If grown-up Filipinos continue to excuse themselves from political action on the grounds of pragmatism and practicality, yet continue to chastise the socially-aware youth for their naïve idealism and courage to stand up for ideals that “would not feed them,” then there is truth in the words of Aristophanes.  Stupid lasts forever.

For once, after his rather outlandish and unbelievable stories, there is some merit in what Jun Lozada talked about.  The youth are next in line before the bar of history, and we will be judged for our actions in due time.  Yet, we are next in line.  The generations before me will be judged by history way before we, the youth, get our chance, our verdict, and our sentence.

I don’t know what exactly Lozada is fighting for, but I sure as hell know that the youth today are fighting for exactly those things that roll off the tongues of old men: justice, truth, freedom.  I think that it behooves Mr. Lozada not to speak to the youth, much less to “represent” the youth.  He should speak for his generation - those who are twice my age - who regard with suspicion even the most purest and the most sincere of virtues and actions.

To that generation I, a 22-year-old not-a-boy-not-yet-a-middle-aged-man-with-a-prostate-problem, pass a message: fix your mess.  Take responsibility.  Act with the same idealism that you expect of us.  Soon, your generation will pass before the bar of history, and it is your inaction, your selfishness, and your disregard for justice, that will be the better judge of the future you have already passed on to us.

Lozada may not be a hero, but he did something about it.

I just put in 11 hours today.  I’m either a workaholic, or I’m addicted to writing…

Or maybe I’m just pissed off.

As a twenty-something, I belong to that generation that lacks a name. Only two years separate us from Generation X and the generation after Ferdinand Marcos. What exactly are we? There’s no other way to put it: we’re the Call Center Generation. Almost everyone my age is employed by the outsourcing industry. We are the generation that saturates Ortigas Center, Makati CBD, and Eastwood. Beyond the bars, the skyscrapers, and the perceived glamor of Metro Manila’s three biggest financial districts is a world of headsets, lights turned on for 24 hours a day, the ocassional ampethamine, and proxy servers.

Yes, there is something definitely wrong with this picture.

Anyone who works in a BPO will definitely lose an edge when it comes to politics. I should know: these days, I think I have the political edge of a rubber prop knife. And I’m not even a call center agent.

I think the politically-passionate are right to condemn us, the Call Center Generation, for being party animals drinking buckets of San Mig Light every payday. Yet to understand the seeming apathy of my generation, you have to put yourself in our shoes. “Shutting yourself off from the realities of life” is a very poignant rhetorical device: a computer, a headset, and Skype is the absolute “reality of life.”

Emo? Say what you will about skin-tight jeans that prevent circulation to your genitalia, but it’s so effin’ true.

Karl Marx’s favorite metaphor, “chains,” takes a whole new meaning for my generation: electrical wires are chains connected to a computer network (which is a chain in itself) connected to a chain an entire ocean away. You are chained to your job because you’re lucky to have one; you don’t have to walk around wearing your best clothes carrying a brown envelope staving off your hunger with Hong Kong Style Noodle. You don’t know what to protect: your wallet, your cellphone, your reputation, or your resumé.

When people ask you about Meralco, Jun Lozada, or the rice crisis, you either don’t know, or you don’t care. Who reads the papers when your payslip is enough to depress you? Who cares about Meralco bids when your building has a backup generator? Who cares about Jun Lozada’s foibles when there’s the proxy server to get to know more about Jennifer Lopez? What rice crisis are you talking about, when there’s always McDonald’s or ala carte (the sosyalin version of street food) to eat?

Besides, we are cogs in the wheel of what? What is our contribution to history? What do we have a stake on when there’s a newly-opened BPO a few blocks away? What identity do we, the Call Center Generation, hold on to, when it is but normal to us to converse to faceless people on another continent using a faceless name just given to us out of standard practice?

We are no more departed from the self-deprecation that was Generation X, and the self-glorification that characterized the generation that became teenagers with Beyoncé. We are no more politically-passionate than Martial Law alumni, and no more politically-immune than people who were made aware that Fidel Ramos’ cigar was the Vice President of the land. We are a generation caught in between history. We are products of history. We are cogs in the wheel of absolutely nothing.

Emo? Say what you will about side-swept hair made stable by a dollop of Gatsby hair wax, but it’s so effin’ true.

A friend of mine has a rather strange, if not extremely accurate, phrase for it: “Life then is but a tormenting inferno of pain masked behind a fictitious smile in a quasi-state of reality.” Indeed, life for this generation is nothing more than a tormenting firewall behind that assumed smile that you assure some irate customer that you’re making a difference with a brand-new Panasonic DVD player that can play Blu-Ray… if you can place the order.

That - not “apathy” - is the damning thing.

The only time I met Rep. Crispin “Ka Bel” Beltran was three years ago at UP Diliman, when he was a speaker at a University-wide student leader’s conference.  There I was: the idealistic, militant, vocal, arrogant, aloof, metaphor-spewing young student leader.  And then there was Ka Bel: in his twilight years, he was the first to offer his hand to me for a friendly handshake, complimenting me on a question that I can no longer recall.

Today, I have grown - I hope for the better - in terms of what I stand for, and how fight for what I stand for.  And then there was Ka Bel, who has just passed away today, at 75 years young.

To call this a “fitting tribute” to the memory and legacy of Crispin Beltran is to aim for the stars.  I only met Ka Bel once, back in the days where I found myself aligned with the militant street parliamentarians, of which he was the truest example.  Over the years, I found myself moving away from the streets and putting down my banners and streamers in favor of a crusade I can live with, on my own terms.

Yet even with that divergence, I believe that any young activist today should learn their lessons well from someone like Crispin Beltran.  There are many things that I will definitely disagree with, but I will definitely not oppose any argument made that Ka Bel is an activist, a street parliamentarian of the truest sense.  Ka Bel stood up for his beliefs so much so that he went to prison for what he believed in and what he stood for.

For everything that a politically-minded and politically-aware person will say about Crispin Beltran, I think we can agree on one thing: he is a man of principle.  Some will whine, moan, and bitch out on a pat with a truncheon or a half-hour in jail.  Not someone like Ka Bel, who has seen it all, went through it all, and still had his ideals intact at the end of it all.

The activists have their heroes: Rolando Olalia, Lean Alejandro, Eman Lacaba, and today, Crispin Beltran.  Personally, I think that the only thing fitting about this short tribute to Ka Bel is this: unlike three years ago, I have done so first.

I’m not a lawyer, nor do I consider myself an expert in governance or politics.  I like to consider myself as a 22-year-old kid who meddles in political affairs not only because I care genuinely for the Philippines, but because my future as a young man who will benefit from - or even pay for - the consequences of today.

Which is why as I was reading the Inquirer article forming the Judicial Executive Legislative Advisory and Consultative Council (JELAC) today, I was rather concerned.

I think it was Montesquieu who propounded the “Trias Politica,” what most of us know as the doctrine of separation of powers.  While people would debate on the matter of whether or not Gloria Arroyo has read - perhaps even understood - something as elementary as Montesquieu (to be honest, even I was confused), she has this to say:

“Separation does not mean isolation. Rather, among our co-equal branches, there should be consultation and cooperation to advance shared priorities in the national interest and welfare of all Filipinos.”

So to anyone who still thinks that Arroyo is bent on Charter Change to shift from Presidential to Parliamentary, there you have it.

I’m not the kind of “radical” who would spout out rants and raves about how the JELAC would be used to prosecute “political enemies,” but I am rather concerned with why Arroyo would do this at such a crucial moment.  If it’s any consolation, it is Arroyo who precisely benefits from separation of powers as applied here.  Without separation of powers, Arroyo would have been impeached a long time ago.  It is the check-and-balance benefit of separation of powers that keeps Arroyo in Malacañang.  Without that check-and-balance (read: bickering) that has our honorable political branches in a quandary for definitions, surely the supposed inevitable would have happened.

Deep breath…

Separation of powers exists to do three things: check-and-balance, distribution of power, and public accountability.  Each division or branch of government has a limited means and a limited ends: one should not encroach upon the other.  Not only are branches of government accountable to where their powers begin and end, but are also accountable to the public in terms of what they can do and what they are supposed to do.  This prevents government from unfairly encroaching upon the rights - civil and political - of the people, because each branch is not only accountable to another, it is accountable to the populace.  Thus there is a clear understanding of what people in power can do, and what people in power can’t do.

Exhale… a-ha!

Yet it is not impeachment that we are concerned about here.  More from the Inquirer article:

“The council will be composed of nine members, with the President sitting as chairperson and the following as members: Vice President, Senate President, Speaker, Chief Justice, one member of the Cabinet to be designated by the President, one member of the Senate to be designated by the Senate President, one member of the House of Representatives to be designated by the Speaker, and one member of the Supreme Court to be designated by the Chief Justice.”

Excuse me for being a soothsaying paranoiac, but it all makes sense to me now.  In 2011, Arroyo would probably be a victim of her own “rule of law:” that she will answer for a few things herself.  With an independent judiciary sans a “cooperation” between our separated branches of government, Arroyo would definitely be at the other end of the proverbial stick.  JELAC makes it possible to circumvent the etched-in-stone rule of law for Arroyo to make it through without a hitch.  To put it bluntly, JELAC expands the proverbial “butas ng karayom.”

Yet what concerns me most is that as the JELAC seeks to “unify,” it also seeks to nullify the ought-to-be that makes our political system.  That conveniently circumvented ought-to-be is the Constitution, the theory behind it, and the will of the people that make a Constitution what it is.  For someone whose entire “legitimacy” rested on tooting the Constitutional horn, this move by Arroyo is odd, to say the least (and certainly not the worst).  The “primacy of the rule of law” does not refer to this rule of law.

I leave debates on the Constitutionality of the JELAC to knowledgeable lawyers.  After all, I’m just one of them meddling kids.