(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.

Yesterday, I attended the 4th Philippine Blogging Summit - iBlog 4 - even with a bout of rage-induced depression.  One of the highlights of iBlog, on a more personal note, was exchanging small-talk with Mr. Manuel Quezon III, who was rather surprised to meet me in person for the first time.

(If you were in iBlog 4, I was the guy in the t-shirt with a fiery skull design who doesn’t talk to anybody.  I have issues with crowds.  No, I’m not emo.  And yes, I sound like Satan whenever I talk through a microphone.)

An important insight I learned from iBlog 4 is the growing importance of blogging as a means towards genuine social change.  As Luz Rimban, Manolo Quezon, and Jeanette Toral pointed out in their talks at iBlog 4, there are few political bloggers in the Philippines.  The few political bloggers that we have, given the number of blogs - or “blogs” - that there are in the Philippines would mean that the “growing importance” of blogging is still on the embryonic stage.

Please disagree with me on this one: I think - and this is a completely subjective and personal observation - that most bloggers do not utilize their blogs enough as a vehicle to (at the very least) exact a political influence among their peers.  It’s not that people don’t see the importance of political blogging, it’s just that people do not exercise their political views and commit them to a blog entry.

I’m not saying that this practice is wrong, it’s just that blogging can mean so much more than a healthy dose of emo or psychological prostitution.  We, as bloggers, need to speak out more on issues.  Not personal ones, but social ones.  Or maybe social ones that we find personal affinities and empathies with.

I can personally vouch for the dangers and consequences of having a disagreeable view or an opinion.  I’m not talking about people who disagree with me online, but people who disagree with me offline.  I don’t have time to check spam messages or Google my own name to look for people who want to kill me.  Yet realities sink in all too often when you have to delete a threatening comment or an e-mail (thankfully, they are few-and-far-between), or hear about real-world slander.

Yet in effect, this is what resistance is all about.  Blogging is not about resistance, it is resistance.  Even in the embryonic stage of political and social blogging, The Media look upon us as, well, threats.  I myself am quite dissatisfied with the way The Media treats blogging, focusing more on the irrelevant non-issue that is Brian Gorrell vs. DJ Montano, instead of the growing social and political resistance in the blogosphere…

But that’s for another entry.

On blogging news: you can catch me every weekend at FilipinoVoices.com, a collaborative blog about Philippine politics, news, and social commentary.  I am joined by Nick Tingog, Lester Cavestany, The Jester-In-Exile, Manuel Buencamino, Rom Sedona, and many other bloggers.  Please link to the site, and please visit the site frequently.   It’s a labor of love of country.

The Big Question for friends and family: am I risking the possibility of actually getting shot for having strong words to say about The Government?

Hmmm… it is tempting to say “I don’t,” but I am kind of getting a bit paranoid with the “accidental exposure” from Thursday’s incident.  I have not gotten into trouble - yet - but I must be very quick to point out than in a 13-year writing odyssey, I have gotten into a lot of trouble.  My still-standing feud with a few people in the college paper is the stuff that they’ll probably exchange during bull sessions in the future.  I won’t be a teary-eyed Jun Lozada, but I will say that it’s often worth taking a risk for your country… sans the sponsored Masses and the tours and the speaking engagements.

So if ever I get shot or arrested, you now know why.

Before anything else, I would like to thank Mr. Manuel Quezon III for quoting my blog entry, “Resistance, Now,” in his column in today’s issue of the Philippine Daily Inquirer.  I am both honored and humbled that my little call for resistance has been picked up by one of the eminent critics, historians, and bloggers of our time.  Thank you, MLQ3.

More of MLQ3’s thoughts in his latest entry.

All this talk of “resistance” and “justice” has also been picked up back home, and suffice to say, I have been getting mixed reactions.  My family, friends, and loved ones are expressing concern that I may have gotten myself in a little bit of trouble.  I console myself in thinking that I am not worth the plastic twist-ties The Government will handcuff me with if ever they think I’m worthy of time in jail.  After all, I’m not exactly a Jonas Burgos, a Sherilyn Cadapan, or a Karen Empeño.

Prudence and tact are not my strongest suits.  I know that any other blogger out there could put whatever I think of The Government in a nicer, more diplomatic way.  In three years, I have had nothing nice to say about This Government, and come 2010, I probably will still be at a loss for words.  I’m sure that if The President is reading today’s paper, or as luck would have it she may be reading what I have to write right now, she probably would feel the same way.  I don’t know The President, The President does not know me, and let’s leave it at that; it’s not like we’ll meet each other one day and drink some Quickly shakes at a bench in SM Megamall talking about life.

The term “hinanakit” - grudge - lends itself well.  Over the years, many people have asked me: “What exactly do you have against The Government that you’re trying to bring It down?”  I could rant about it again: questions of legitimacy, a moral and political ascendancy to govern, the prevalence of hunger, systemic corruption, widespread poverty, and so on.  These are legitimate reasons why I have every hinanakit against This Government.  The expected retort: “Let the rule of law take its course.”

And you’re telling me that I’m liable to get shot for what I’m doing?

Rule of law, huh?  To be honest, there are some things about the rule of law that I myself cannot understand, but there are definitely things about the rule of law that I cannot stand for.  Take Sec. Romulo Neri: the rule of law has upheld executive privilege, so all investigations on the NBN-ZTE deal has stopped.  The rule of law, in this case, has taken its course.  The rule of law has forgiven Erap, and the rule of law has forgotten the “Hello Garci” scandal.  The rule of law is also responsible for allowing public funds to be used for the completely lawful practice of Congressman So-and-So to rename a school building Don Such-and-Such Memorial High School, all the while forgetting that there’s a village out there whose only road needs a paving.

The rule of law, to echo a thought by Mr. Quezon, does not automatically make things right.  We are surrounded by every kind of wrong that there is courtesy of The Government’s inactions and inadequacies.  All of these things - including the rule of law - should contribute to the growing hinanakit that we (I hope) have against The Government.  Hinanakit is sufficient reason to engage in resistance.  The biggest hinanakit of them all is right on our dinner tables, or to be more accurate, what is not on our dinner tables.  We’ve all been denied the rule of law before, and now we have been denied the rule of rice?

The other day, I overheard a couple talk about how bad times are that they’d rather be shot than queue up on the NFA delivery trucks for nothing for another day.  Now that’s a hinanakit: yet another perfectly good reason for resistance.

10:41 AM 4/2/2008

I once took a Political Science class where I made a comment that an activist friend took offense to: “Let’s just go on and plant camote.”  I said that in jest, but now that I come to think about it, camote is a very offensive thing indeed.

No, it’s not because it causes flatulence.

In today’s issue of the Philippine Daily Inquirer, the Catholic bishops are saying that one the solutions to the purported “rice crisis” is for us, a nation of rice-eaters, to eat the humble camote as a replacement for rice.  On an interview in Radio Veritas, Archbishop Angel Lagdameo says:

“I’ve heard and read that some people mix corn with rice, which is naturally more satisfying.”

I don’t know how prudent it is to argue with a servant of the Lord and the steward of His flock over the matter of “satisfaction.”  With all due respect to Father Lagdameo, I don’t see anything satisfying about mixing corn and rice, or eating camote instead of rice.  “Instead,” when translated to the Filipino term “imbes,” means “to substitute.”  Is there really a substitute for rice in a nation that revolves around eating it?

Me and my friend Dette talked about this over the weekend, and she made a pretty good case for eating less rice.  She’s a nutritionist: from what I heard, the nutritive value of rice is less compared to other starch sources like camote, corn, and bread.  So yes, from that point of view, eating less rice must make a lot of sense.  I could vouch for the claim that because I’m eating less than a cup of rice in a meal nowadays, I’m actually losing excess pounds.

Still, it’s necessity above vanity.  If all you have to eat is rice and salt, then surely the government would exempt you from its sweeping admonition to “eat less rice.”  Remember: this is the same government that told you that all a Filipino family needs to survive is P35, and all the nutrition you’ll ever need is to be found in a pack of instant noodles.

Like I said earlier, I don’t think it’s prudent to argue over a bishop on the matter of “satisfaction.”  Jesus fed hundreds of people with five loaves of bread and two fish; so I guess I have no business disagreeing with the pious sacrifice we all must make in eating less rice.  This whole starch-substitution thing is different: it’s not evoking Jesus finding a way to feed hundreds of people.  It evokes a different sort of story, like that famous “Let them eat cake!” misquote by Marie Antoinette.

Camote is dreaded not because it’s funny, but because it’s not funny.  When you start eating camote every day, you no longer find anything remotely funny about farting noises at the dead of night.  You no longer wonder if you can propel a rocket with camote, cabbages, red eggs, and boiled beans.  Camote represents humiliation: it’s something you eat with boiled bananas because you can’t afford to eat anything anymore.  It’s all right to not be able to afford a book or a holiday trip: it’s not all right to be denied something you’re entitled to.

I don’t know if we Filipinos are naturally tolerant of things that, at least from my own limited perspective of things, already constitute economic abuse.  If you can’t afford the bottle of fish sauce or the block of lard, you can always have those store-repackaged two-peso sachets.  What satisfaction comes from being denied of the basic necessities of life?

Not satisfaction, Father Lagdameo, but resistance.

I never asked you for anything before.  I’m not asking you to do anything that will get you into trouble, or send you to jail.  All I am asking you is to resist.

Before anything else, an apology is in order.  I have to apologize for my rather caustic and violent statements over the past few days, here in my site and at Patriots4Truth.  There are a lot of things I should learn, both as a writer and as a person.  I believe in open communication, but there are a lot of things I myself should learn about respect.  I apologize for anyone I may have hurt in my tirades over the past few days.  I hold myself personally responsible for whatever damage this brief altercation may have caused.  It behooves me - not as an act of conscience, but as an act of respect - to apologize for the tone of my statements.

However, I do not - and I cannot - retract the meaning I intended for my statements.  I will stand by the essence of those statements: that President Gloria Macapagal-Arroyo should be held accountable not only for the NBN-ZTE controversy, but for the “Hello Garci” scandal of the 2004 national elections.

This is why I call upon you to resist.  I do not care how you do it.  Just resist.

If you remain blind to the crimes, the shortcomings, and the betrayals of this government, you do nothing but to concede and to consent and to tolerate what we have now.  In this “free country,” we do not have the right to information: the Supreme Court of the Philippines has just ruled in favor of Sec. Romulo Neri invoking “executive privilege” on the NBN-ZTE deal, paralyzing our common search for truth.  In this “booming economy,” there are many of us who do not reap the rewards of what is supposed to be a stronger peso.  In this country “governed by the rule of law,” the President circumvents it by passing executive orders against dissent and criticism.

Which basically means that we are not free.  Our economy is not booming.  Our country is governed not by law, certainly not by justice, but by a disregard for the law and a disavowal of justice.

I am not here to explain or excuse an outburst of anger.  But I ask you this: are you not angry?  Are you not enraged?  The rich get richer and the poor get poorer, the powerful become ever more powerful and the powerless go ever more powerless than they are before.  When do we act?

“Revolution” is often spoken of in this country: moral revolutions, intellectual revolutions, economic revolutions, armed revolutions.  We can all disagree with what constitutes a revolution, but ladies and gentlemen, this country was founded on revolution.  It is revolution that this country needs more than ever.  This revolution may not need arms, it may not need weapons, and it may not need violence.  This revolution may not be in the mountains, and it may not need to be held in the streets.  This revolution needs two things: a cause for resistance, and people who will resist.

If you will settle for this government, if you will tolerate the lapses in judgment that this government has symbolized for the past seven years, and if you will concede and consent to the injustices and intolerable mistakes of this Administration, the change you will ask for will not materialize.  Change will not be served to you on a silver platter: you will have to fight for that change.  You will resist against those forces that deny change, and leading those forces will be the government that will do everything in its power to stay in power.

It is not going to be easy.  There will be people who will go against you.  You will exchange heated words, you will draw swords, and you may even resort to drawing a gun.  You will not like it at times.  You will grow tired of it one day.  You who read this would probably blame me for it in the future.  But as long as you do not resist, and if at any moment you cease to resist, you will one day cease to exist.

If you value your freedom, if you value your country, if you value the next generation, you will resist now.  The next generation cannot - and it will not - wait for you to expect them to do something about it.

I do not know how you will do it.  But I know how I’m going to do it: as long as I write here, as long as my wrists do not give way, as long as I can, I will resist.

All I’m asking you to do is to resist.