Image Courtesy of the Malacang Tumblr

There is little doubt that Rizal casts a shadow over our understanding of the 19th century and the Philippine Revolution. We often see him less the inheritor, the flowering so to speak, of previous Philippine intellectual thought and movements, and more the Great Creator of Filipinas, never equaled prior or after. From a certain perspective, that of the need for heroes and heroism, its wholly appropriate; even necessary. But from another, that of nation-building and connectivity, Rizal becomes even more…compelling and resonant.

This leads me to wonder: Why should heroes remain historically static? That’s one of the issues that pervades our popular understanding of the past. We have a tendency to enforce artificially constructed dichotomies. This is a trap, one that I readily admit I fall into at times. In the case of Rizal, we argue in binary simplicities: Reformist vs Revolutionary or, perversely, Bonifacio vs Rizal. Even something as inane as Hero vs Villain. We seem to want to (erroneously) compartmentalize our Heroic Pantheon. History operates in the margins, the shades of grey (to use an expression that has unfortunately become salacious). History is not stark, like those old black and white photographs we love to admire. It’s full of shading and mysteries; little possibilities that tease the imagination and make us wonder: What more? What happened? What does it mean?

For students of history, that is the allure of its study. The idea that in the past we can find explanations and answers to the present condition. That is also its inherent trap: This demand to apply the current condition to the past leads us to often times erroneous conclusions. Methodology and evidence are the fundamental foundation of any historical conclusions; unfortunately those are sometimes substitutes for ideology and preconceived notions of right and wrong. One idea worth considering is that every generation must re-engage with the past; it has to look at our shared history with new eyes and draw new conclusions that help retain and maintain relevance.

For me, one of the more compelling, even beautiful, aspects of Rizal’s works is his idea, his fervent belief, that there are connections and relationships between all Filipinos. Even as he satirized our society, he was pointing us towards a future where we worked together, bled and lived together, all to construct something new and hopeful and wonderful. It is an idea that crosses socio-economic boundaries and even nation-states. In a way, I think Rizal was a wide-eyed optimist; underneath the sarcasm and much needed critical nature beat the heart of a man who dreamed of better and brighter tomorrows. He knew he would never live to see them, but I firmly believe he knew one day those who came after would. With all of the intricacies and complexities of the modern world, that relatively untapped resonance in Rizal’s works becomes vitally important. It seems that we are constantly fighting a battle between a perceived need for insularity (driven by pseudo-nationalism) and a desire to connect more deeply with the rest of the world. Within that tension though there exists an intersection between defining the self and nation and connecting to the global community. Rizal was driven by a need to construct a new vision of the Philippines grounded in a reconsideration of our historical past. An intriguing idea still today.

Despite our fascination with Rizal, there is so much of him and his ideas left unengaged. There are a many different interpretations of Rizal, all worthy in their own way: Rizal the Humanist, the Historian, the Social Critic, or the Political Philosopher. That is part of his brilliance, these undiscovered countries hidden within his writings. That is why he and his works, even after over a century and a half after his death, remain so fresh and intriguing. And while he will continue to be important far into the future.

In his time, Rizal was noted for his proficient use of any medium at hand to disseminate his writings. Last year, Anvil Publishing and the Philippine Daily Inquirer asked the question:  ”If Rizal were a blogger, what would he have blogged about?” (Read the winning essay here).

Knowing Rizal’s history, there is little doubt that no only would Rizal have been a blogger, he would have taken advantage of all the various platforms available in social media. He did during his day, penning essays, novels, articles, poetry, speeches, and scholarly essays to promote his critiques of and hopes for the Philippines. He took advantage of the various mediums at hand to spread his message far and wide, to touch on every possible audience in at home and abroad. And yes, his polemics were banned, labeled as seditious and fomenting rebellion against a ‘lawful’ imperial power. His memory, and writings, were so powerful the United States chose to corrupt his image and legacy, instead of actively trying to stamp it out.

The insidious nature of the Cybercrime Prevention Act of 2012 has been dissected and demonstrated elsewhere; most cohesively and cogently by Father Bernas. One of his more critical points refers to the powers of the executive arm of government:

“The chilling part is the empowerment of the executive arm “to effectively prevent and combat [cyber] offenses by facilitating their detection, investigation and prosecution at both the domestic and international levels, and by providing arrangements for fast and reliable international cooperation.”

As we have already noted, there are serious concerns with regards to the Cybercrime Law and the upholding and protection of essential universal human rights. In some ways, as Father Bernas also hints, basic protection of human rights and the creation of a human resource development oriented society and portions of the Cybercrime Law are incompatible. Additionally, as Father Bernas points out:

“Libel has been decriminalized in other civilized jurisdictions. Our legislature, instead, will throw us back to the dark ages by imposing a higher penalty for libel. In effect, the advance in communication technology is being treated not as a boon but as a bane.”

Rizal’s writings are easily classified as seditious and revolutionary. In fact, portions of his work rigorously defended the protection of human rights under an increasingly inhumane imperial order. He repeatedly attacked, insulted, and memorialized the idiocy of those in power through his use of satire. His works reject tyranny, reject fiat from on high, reject debasement by an over-reaching government structure, and affirms human dignity and development through the protection of universal human rights. We know he attacked leadership, civil and religious, in the hopes of sparking outraged sentiment among Filipinos:

“I have tried to do what no one has been willing to do; I have had to reply to the calumnies which for centuries have been heaped upon us and our country; I have described the state of our society, our life, our beliefs, our hopes, our desires, our laments, and our grievances…”

Intellectually honest and well-founded dissent and criticism is required, a requisite, for a functioning democracy. History is very clear on this point. Although freedoms and rights are not absolute, the protection of them, in many ways, must be. Else, we find ourselves teetering yet again on the brink of totalitarianism.

Rizal was pointed and scathing in many of his social and political critiques. His anger, in works like the Fili, is still palpable today:

“Stupider still then, when, knowing it to be bad, he does not give it up, but goes on wasting time. Not only is he stupid, but is a cheat and a robber, because he knows that his work is useless, yet continues to draw his salary. Not only is he stupid and a thief, he is a villain in that he prevents any other workmen from trying his skill to see if he might not produce something worth while? The deadly jealousy of the incompetent!”

Despite assertions to the contrary, vilification does not live on in perpetuity in cyberspace alone. Rizal’s derogations remain, and in many ways continue (erroneously or not) to color our view of power and the Church. His denunciations were inflammatory, his polemics incisive, and his exhortations inflamed the latent passions of a developing nation. In the 19th century, he so angered those in power, and made them fear the influence of what he was saying, that he was arrested, jailed, tried, and ultimately executed.

The world of Jose Rizal and today are far different. Despite serious flaws in our socio-political framework, we do enjoy things like due process, warrants, and fundamental protection of human rights under the Constitution. Despite my reservations on the Cybercrime Law, I do not believe that the Aquino administration would exert power to prevent either its repeal, amendment, or the excising of especially controversial provisions. I still retain that hope and belief that this measure will be successfully contested and those in power, even if they tacitly agreed to it either through vote, ignorance, or signature, will come to their senses. However, what if the political milieu was far different? What if someone like Ferdinand Marcos or Arroyo had this law and its power at their disposal? Vigilance then is always required to protect our rights and freedoms. Just three decades ago we lived in a world not so far removed from Rizal’s. That should give anyone pause.

To be frank, it is not historically or scholarly appropriate to try and figure a historical figure into a modern milieu and attempt to attribute actions and words to him. That is the hallmark of bad history. Despite that, some adaption must be undertaken to make sure that their legacy remains resonant. In all of the talk about the Cybercrime Act I have heard no one draw on our past in defense of civic values, freedoms, and human rights that we perceive as under attack. What did Rizal stand for? What did Bonifacio stand for? What did was Aguinaldo, Mabini, Jacinto, and del Pilar fighting for? And are those values protected and defended?

If we can imagine Rizal the Blogger, we have to think of Rizal as the Social Critic in the modern age. Imagine Rizal publishing his works through social media today. Now whether his words are applicable or not today (again far different contexts), would his use of social media to disseminate his particular brand of anti-state and anti-imperial power have brought him to the attention of the government? Could his polemics have been considered criminally libelous today? Could he be arrested on the strength of what he wrote in the past?

Which brings us to the questions at hand:

If Rizal were writing today as a blogger, or on Twitter, or through Facebook, could his freedoms be threatened and his property confiscated? Could he be charged under the Cybercrime Prevention Act?

More importantly, would Rizal be found guilty?

Could Jose Rizal, National Hero of the Philippines by general acclaim, be branded a criminal?

fabafter40:

My friend Janine was having an interesting discussion on her Facebook wall yesterday about a question that Charice’s manager asked on Twitter. It was a valid question, but her follow-up statements pissed quite a few of my fellow Filipinos off.

Now before I write anything else, I…

Seal of approval.

(via francisacero)

One of the oddest moments of Martial Law, though completely indicative of Marcos’ totalitarian, paranoid, and wayward thinking, was when he banned the final five episodes of the anime Voltes V. Courtesy, of @copyeditor:

In the interview, Senator Marcos said he understood that a cartoon like Voltes V would have been something important to kids “but it was actually the parents that worried about the violence that they were afraid might influence their children in a negative way.”

“There was a lot of private lobbying by all kinds of groups, parents-groups, and so I guess my father saw it prudent to acquiesce to their demands on an issue that was and still is not well understood,” he said.

Marcos said that up to this day, the effect of violence “as experienced vicariously by children through TV or video games is still a subject that remains contentious not only here but in other countries as well.”

Bongbong - Why Marcos Banned Voltes V

The truth is a little quirkier than that. The finale of Voltes V saw the heroes rising up and overthrowing an oppressive government. Hmmmmm…a little too close for comfort there methinks?

Of course, this got me thinking. For kids today who erroneously think that Martial Law was all sunshine and flowers, just imagine Marcos breaking out the ban-stick on your favorite tv shows and movies. All for ‘questionable content’:

• The Star Wars Trilogy - This is almost self-explanatory. Young kid harnessing his inner self, joining the underground to overthrow a doddering old fool of an Emperor, who is ultimately betrayed by his right hand man? Yeah. (Though lets be honest, I wouldn’t have minded if he banned the new trilogy.)
• Braveheart -  A passionate and well-spoken charismatic leader sacrifices himself for the good of everyone and ultimately incites a people to rebellion? A dictator’s worse nightmare
• The Lord of the Rings - Placid and unassuming little people, find heroism within themselves and topple a dark power, even in the face of superior might and forces.
• Transformers - Marcos hated robots. Nuff said.
• Fuck da Police - N.W.A - Crazy subversive new fangled hip-hop music demanding impressionable youth fight the Man? Not something you’d hear in the hallowed halls of Malacanang that’s for sure.
• I Kissed a Girl by Katy Perry - A song celebrating ‘non-traditional’ family values? I can just imagine Marcos completely aghast, all the while secretly singing along. Though, you can just imagine Imelda singing “I kissed Qaddafi and I liked it”
• Avatar - Impoverished natives armed with primitive weapons rise up against almost overwhelming military might and win. I’m sure Enrile and Ramos would have been first in line to get this banned.
• Batman Begins, The Dark Knight, and The Dark Knight Rises - Vigilantism? Really? Do we even need to explain this?

And the list goes on and on.

But wait, the fun doesn’t stop there! You can just imagine what Marcos would have thought of video games. The unapologetic viciousness of Super Mario Brother, beating up on poor Bowser. The sheer violence of Call of Duty, the anarchy of GTA or Red Dead Redemption, would have probably sent him into fits.

That’s the face of Martial Law. Where choices are made for you and entertainment is state-sanctioned. Can’t have anything too subversive and revolutionary, might give people the wrong ideas.

Now excuse me, I’m going to go blow up some dragons in Skyrim and fuck the police in GTA.

Just because I can.

Martial Law in History

Context is key in understanding any historical event. The whys and the hows, those questions that provide a firm grasp of the times, are paramount. We know that forty years ago, on September 23, 1972, Ferdinand Marcos declared Martial Law through Proclamation No. 1081. We know that what followed was fourteen years of systematic dismantling of Philippine culture, society, and economy. It was an unrelenting barrage of cronyism, self-interest, and overwhelming ego that brought the Philippines to its knees. The quantity and quality of what was done to the Philippines and the Filipino is almost difficult to grasp in its enormity. In a sense, the argument could be made this is why so many of our young fail to comprehend Martial Law: There is just too much to explain, so much for them to understand. And unless it’s presented properly and competently, the excesses of Martial Law almost becomes satirical, a bad joke that is being played on the unsuspecting. Three thousand pairs of shoes? Tens of millions of dollars worth of jewelry? Mansions in Europe, secret Swiss bank accounts, decadent parties in the United States, mistresses in Australia, multi-million dollar condominium units in New York and London, and so on and so on. Ha! That sounds more like an over-the-top book or film than reality. Even a royal decree from Marcos naming Imelda as his heir and successor smacks of overkill. Yet, it is all there. It happened.

Then there are the dark notes of Martial Law. The salvagings, the kidnappings, the state-sanctioned executions, tortures, and intimidation. The fear that an unsuspecting country soon found itself living in. The sheer impunity of it all. Curfews and beheadings. Beatings and thieving. That was part of Martial Law. Thousands of men and women found themselves jailed, tortured, and murdered. Left by the street side were dead bodies masquerading as unremarked refuse. Those bloody reminders of Martial Law are almost completely forgotten today. There are too many deluded among the youth and old guard alike who celebrate the excesses of Martial Law, they like to point to the dream of a strong man who controlled their lives and harnessed a nation to service his, his wife’s, and their cronies’ perverse desires. I have little doubt that Jose Rizal would find absolutely appalling the continued existence of the Cult of Marcos. This subrosa, barely remarked upon fervent dream for a strong man to come and unburden us of our social and civic responsibility. To lead and guide to the promised land. What else underlies that frequently stated request for a ‘strong leader’ to fix the country, but a lack of personal conviction and desire to assume social and civic responsibility? Rizal called people who believe like that slaves. Ideological slaves with little heart for proudly proclaiming themselves Filipino and contributing to the success of their country. Rizal pointed out that slaves allow tyrants to maintain power, and little men become even smaller men when they find power. Slaves become tyrants: Petty and self-interested. Deluded in their grandeur of squalor.

Even the so-called bright spots of Martial Law that we like to hail in the public discourse are tainted once we dig deeper. For example, Imelda Marcos’ contributions to arts and culture communities fall apart when critically analyzed. Yes, she left an institutional legacy that remains. But, the potency of those institutions has less to do with her and more to do with the men and women who re-imagined their potential. Imelda basically engineered cultural and art institutions into altars for the Cult of Imelda. Her tastes, her demands, her desires, and quirks dominated the cultural landscape. Art, in its essence, is the mirror through which society views itself. Art provides a voice for the people, and often times it is the only outlet for social unrest. That is why there is such a long history of literature, sculpture, cinema, and paintings as vehicles for social subversion and even revolution. Rizal’s Noli and Fili and Paine’s Common Sense helped spark revolutions. Works of art like Picasso’s Guernica are pointed social critique that resonate today. Art, at its best, helps weave national narratives and demands a reassessment of prevailing social standards. Art, in any form, is critical analysis of a subject, a belief, a place, or a time. By muzzling the art community, Imelda eliminated one of the key vehicles through which social commentary can be made. Her husband’s desire to rewrite Philippine history to support and defend his one-man rule is one and the same. Controlling the understanding of history provides the ability to rewrite the context of the present, and even guide the future.

Heinriche Heine famously pointed out “That was but a prelude; where they burn books, they will ultimately burn people.” In a sense, a critical evaluation of art and culture institutions during Martial Law gives us a pointed insight into the mind of Imelda Marcos: She was paramount. She came, she saw, she controlled. It was art by fiat, and Imelda was the grand patroness.

In general we at least grasp the almost overwhelming economic failures of Martial Law; failures driven by cronyism, nepotism, and institutionalized and state-sanctioned graft and corruption. But, in looking at its entirety, it is awe-inspiring. Crony capitalism became the norm. Infrastructure projects were handed out like candy as favors. Projects were developed and implemented for the sole purpose of providing vehicles for corruption. Yes, roads were built, institutions developed, but at what cost? How many languished in poverty while roads were paved to nowhere? While medical institutions that catered to a select few were constructed with public dollars? Yes, we may have a kidney or heart center now. But back then? What was more important, a basic primary healthcare facility serving the hundreds of thousands who did not have access to basic medical care, or a medical facility catering to wealthy Filipinos and foreigners? That is one of the tragedies of Martial Law: The misguided sense of nationalism. It was nationalism turned egoism; a country and its institutions geared specifically to the demands of a Conjugal Dictatorship and their coterie of bandits and sycophants. The result, by 1986, was a crippling external debt amounting to the billions of dollars, where twenty years prior it was only in the millions. Poverty was rampant and new policies of state-sanctioned export of labor were in place.

Context is key. Martial Law came into being because of the context of the period. It survived for fourteen long years because of the context of the time. Fears were preyed upon, information twisted and manipulated to fit pre-determined narratives. That is why the press had to be muzzled, that is why artistic freedom had to disappear, that is even why history had to be rewritten. Without public intellectuals railing visibly against a rapacious dictatorship, without voices offering dissenting views to combat institutional propaganda, the status quo (no matter how oppressive) remains. Martial Law endured.

Despite its continued pervasive and subversive influence, Martial Law is barely understood. It has become more akin to bedtime story used to scare children: If you misbehave, watch out, Martial Law is going to get us! Impeachment? Martial Law! *insert undesired policy*? Martial Law! In its almost consistent deployment, martial law has become less a socio-political state antithetical to democracy and more a running joke. Less something to fear and more a child’s monster under the bed: Something that only exists in our heads. Without a critical understanding of the underlying reasons for Martial Law, we will remain wholly reactive to political changes and developments; consistently weaving fantastical theories of creeping dictatorships and stealthy martial law declarations, all the while the benefactors of Martial Law prosper in their little fiefdoms and maintain their power base. That much needed understanding is only found in the study of history.

Improperly used, history can be deployed to defend almost any excess. Marcos proved this to be true. Proper histories, those that are well-researched and evidentiary based, provide lessons in understanding. More importantly, history gives the present an opportunity to reflect on themselves. Art and history offer the opportunity to question prevailing beliefs and systems; they demand we question commonly held narratives and the actions of our leaders past and present. They give us the chance for critical analysis. John Carey put it this way: “One of history’s most useful tasks is to bring home to us how keenly, honestly and painfully, past generations pursued aims that now seem to us wrong or disgraceful.” Our public historical amnesia robs of that opportunity. Look no further than our popular understanding of Martial Law.

Maybe subconsciously we are scared to fully face Martial Law; to come to grips with what happened, and why it happened. Our present is reflected in our past. Maybe we shove Martial Law to the back of our collective unconscious because we do not want to remember. Maybe it will show us things about ourselves we do not want to face. But, it is there and someday it must be reckoned with.

Painting: Guernica by Pablo Picasso

Archaeologists have unearthed remnants of what they believe is a 1,000-year-old village on a jungle-covered mountaintop in the Philippines with limestone coffins of a type never before found in this Southeast Asian nation, officials said Thursday….

The discovery of the rectangular tombs, which were carved into limestone outcrops jutting from the forest ground, is important because it is the first indication that Filipinos at that time practiced a more advanced burial ritual than previously thought and that they used metal tools to carve the coffins.

 - Philippine Tomb Discovery At 1,000-Year-Old Village Show Unexpected Advances

This is some heady archaeological stuff. I mean, just absolutely amazing. I hope this gets a lot of play in our media, this needs to be prominently touted.

Discoveries like this basically rewrite what we understand about our archipelagic history. They are important in uncovering who we are and where we came from. The fact that there were hitherto unknown techniques in use is astonishing. Looking forward to the published study of the find.

The exciting part is, there is much more to be find throughout the country. We are an archaeological treasure trove, we just need the institutional support to explore.

The sad part of the story is the mention that most of our discovered archaeological sites are being destroyed by grave robbers and looters. These sites form an integral part of our national patrimony, they belong to every Filipino and help deepen our understanding of our heritage.

And it’s just fucking cool.

ellobofilipino:

“If the martial law veterans want the next generation to remember, they should produce more history books, short stories, novels and documentaries on that dark period. The kids’ brains today are wired differently. The oldies did propaganda work in black-and-white via Gestetner stencils and mimeographing machines. The kids today need videos, with music and vivid color, posted instantaneously on the web. The oldies thought in terms of competing dogma. The kids start with reality, raw and undigested - they prefer to do the digesting themselves.”

—

Raul C. Pangalangan, Forgetting Martial Law, The Philippine Daily Inquirer

I do agree with the good Dean. We certainly need narratives from that period as things are now fast slipping from memory. Sad though that it is those favored in those dark days who are now adapting to current technology (e.g. Youtube videos, websites, etc), than those who suffered much.

A few years ago I had a discussion with a prominent writer who now resides abroad about this very subject. He had an excellent point. Simply that the fault for our Martial Law amnesia is in large part because many of the academe and intelligensia, who are still in positions of influence, collaborated vigorously with Marcos. They helped write his manufactured ‘histories’, they wrote his speeches, they helped lay the intellectual foundation for his so called New Society.

Now, at the fall of Martial Law these people remained in position and, he argued, purposefully tried to ignore the ML period because of their role. For every Anding Roces or Chino Roces, or Teddy Locsin Sr you had a collaborator. For every F Sionil Jose or Nick Joaquin or Pete Lacaba you had an academic ghostwriting his speeches, or questionable histories.

So, it filters down. These so-called nationalisms in the academe and intelligensia not only agreed with Marcos, they collaborated with him to build that great and wonderful New Society. They now teach our students, the youth of the nation, and they learned nothing from their dalliance with the dark side. If anything, men of that ilk still maintain that we need a strong leader. They sit in their ivory towers, railing against a culture and society they loathe and detest; they look down on the Filipino and his history. Thus, the ‘defenders’ of Pinoy culture and the preservers of our historical memory, inevitably eviscerate our collective memory in favor of their preferred narrative.

Nationalists? Please.

It is with only a very slight trace of irony that I can proclaim with a straight face that popular culture in the Philippines is dead. Naturally, I am not referring to the classic anthropological definition of culture; as in the ways and means in which we as a people do things. Nor am I am referring to the fractured fairytale meanderings of someone like James Fallows who erroneously proclaimed that the Philippine culture is flawed. As if any culture in the world is homogenous in nature anyway.

No, I am instead proclaiming that intellectual and artistic culture, in other words art, music, and literature, is essentially dead.

With only a slight nod to satire and sarcasm, it is far to easy to write the obituary of Philippine cultural communities. In the place of innovators like Botong Francisco, Solomon Saprid, and Nick Joaquin who mined Philippine high and low culture for inspiration, we are left with reactive and navel-gazing obsessed self-proclaimed auteurs who mine modern society for sources of material to bludgeon an unsuspecting and unprepared population into a state of fatalism and defeatism. And that is being charitable. Where once we had an explosion of innovation and perspectives, Philippine pop culture is left almost…bereft of excitement.

When I refer to the death of culture, I am in truth referring to our inability as a society to discourse. Tony Judt, prior to his passing, noted that the inherent failing in the modern world is our inability to talk anymore. Instead we find ourselves banding together against new ideas, railing against those who dare raise a critical word or different idea, and instead of listening and discussing, attempt to bury their ideas under an avalanche of nay-saying.

It is the wretched state of cultural discourse that has left us in this unenviable position of putting national narratives to bed. If culture and art is supposed to be dedicated to higher purpose, then our purpose has been to wholly defeat the Filipino spirit. Our sense of artistic community has been trampled in favor of almost incestuous self-flagellation, where anyone who dares criticize the commonly acceptable understanding and themes in Philippine culture (and history) is taken out behind the woodshed and flogged for daring to raise a new idea, or dismissed out of hand using a number of choice phrases. There is a prevailing sense of ennui in Philippine culture. A creeping almost haunting perception that we have become static; and in that state are collapsing in on ourselves. A culture that lacks vibrancy, that is absent artistic conflict and joy, chaotic exploration and intellectual combativeness, is stuck and unchanging. What else is death, but a state of never changing?

In some sense, this post is a defense of Don Jaucian and his article on “The Life and Death of OPM.” and Leloy Claudio’s “OPM is dead, so sue me.”. OPM while, admittedly not in my cultural wheelhouse, shares the same stage as art, literature, and history. They are part in parcel with national cultural narratives and discourse. The reactions to those two pieces, thus, share similarities to the misguided reactions you see to writers who attempt to offer different perspectives on our shared history, or on the nature of art today, or on the life and times of Andres Bonifacio. In other words, anything that attempts to prick the standard prevailing opinion is seen as an attack on “Pinoyness” and as a result shouted down from on high (or from down low) and summarily dismissed. In essence, Jaucian is arguing that ‘popular’ music in the Philippine has become static; absent of innovation and reduced to regurgitating the sounds of the past and maintaining an auditory status quo. Since when has the status quo become enviable and defensible?

Vibrant arts and cultural communities are founded on a sense of open-ended discourse that is supported through various institutions. If anything, artists, writers, singers, directors, now share the same space as Edward Said’s public intellectual: They exist to challenge the status quo, no matter what it may be, and attempt to offer new perspectives on the social condition. But to be truly effective, there must be a cultural affinity for fostering discourse. That naturally leads to the idea that reflection is paramount. Critics exist, they must exist, to ignite intellectual discourse and challenge prevailing attitudes; whatever they may be.

When it comes to culture and arts communities intellectual discourse and accepted differences can only be fostered when there are clear institutional mechanisms that allow different perspectives to reach the mainstream. In the United States there are a number of clear structural examples, such as the National Endowment for the Arts and National Public Radio. Museums as well fulfill this role, as do private institutions and foundations that are dedicated to supporting arts and artists. For a variety of reasons, we lack many of those structures. But these structures not only shine a light on worthy art and artists, they help arm the general population with the tools necessary to critically engage with cultural attitudes and ideas. The vacuum left by the disappearance of innovation enhancing structures (see FEU in the 1950s for example) has instead been filled by corporate machines dedicated to churning out mass-market, pre-packaged, focus-group supported singing, dancing, and acting automatons that squarely aim to be as unchallenging and uninteresting as possible. Popular has become pop, which has in turn become fluff.

There are a number of levels of culture, hence the concepts of ‘high’ and ‘low’ culture, or mainstream and independent arts. In the Philippines the difference between the two is stark, almost depressingly so. The innovation that is taking place outside of the mainstream rarely, if ever, filters into popular consciousness. This is no more obvious than in how we collectively view our national culture and society. Philippine pop culture has become little more than an opiate for the masses; a tool that keeps Filipinos shackled by antiquated ideas and a disturbing lack of innovation in terms of art, music, and literature. With the absence of that innovation, we need more critical voices challenging the status quo and questioning why isn’t popular culture evolving? Why are we ‘stuck’? And how the hell do we get ‘un-stuck’?

Honest critics fulfill the role of Said’s public intellectuals, they stand within and outside of the system, poking, prodding, and moving it along. We need that. We need to move.

And come on, aren’t we all getting just a little bored with the status quo?