Tiny Dancer Hero

There is this idea that heroes inevitably reflect their country. When you think about it historical heroes exist as receptacles of a nation’s hopes and dreams. They are the guiding lights, the individuals who helped shape the nature of a people. Heroes are, in other words, can be considered the soul and conscience of a country. Their philosophies, ideals, and examples acting as the benchmarks for right collective action. That, as well, is why each generation must recast their nation’s heroes in new forms and view them in new perspectives. Heroes and their actions, much like all of history, are consistently up for reinterpretation. Without that process they will never be relevant. A disturbing question to ask is if our heroes are really relevant today.

As a result, studying how our heroes are approached and constructed in the public sphere gives a country an understanding of who they are as a people. Heroes are a reflection of the values of a people. And if that is the case, as I strongly suspect it is, then the way we currently construct Jose Rizal (the way we approach him and his legacy) does not speak too well of us.

There is something faintly disturbing about the fact that more is written, and known, in popular society (and pop history) about how many languages Rizal spoke (and how many women he supposedly bedded) than the importance of his annotated Morga. Or even that there is this pervasive sense of Rizal the Reformer, without understanding that his reforms were designed to lead to a successful revolution. Oh yes, with Jose Rizal we have turned one of our greatest heroes, one of the great men in history, into a small man; composed of tiny insignificant details that does little to deepen, challenge, or broaden our understanding of Rizal in his (and our) milieu.

If our heroes our a reflection of our society, then how we approach Rizal is all the more damning for how small it makes us look. Maybe Nick Joaquin was right, maybe we have become a nation of minutia.

Personalizing Rizal

There is an interesting ancillary thought when it comes to heroes. More often than not, their importance rests on how an individual approaches and engages with their legacy. We often like to think of heroes in how they changed a society, or how they rebelled against the circumstances of their day. But, the importance of those events and actions lies in how they resonate with the individual. How someone like Rizal, through his words and deeds, will inspire a young Filipino to lead a life dedicated to service, or to benefit their fellow man, or to help the less fortunate. Or even to fight for a collective ideal.

My experience with Rizal, in many ways, I think differs from the norm. I did not actually learn that much about Rizal in a formal educational setting (a by-product of where I went to school). Instead, my discovery of Rizal was shepherded by three of out greatest Rizalistas. So, instead of learning about Rizal through the interpretations (misguided in many cases) of writers like Agoncillo, or Constantino, or Zaide, I read Rizal. I read his essays, his novels, his poems, and his speeches. This began when I was a kid. You could say I was brainwashed to adore Rizal. And quite frankly, I would not disagree.

It goes without saying that I was singularly lucky in how I learned about Rizal. And I do not say this to ‘brag’ or ‘boast’ about the experience. But, when I read some of the more flagrantly disturbing interpretations of Rizal it is shocking. For example, Constantino and his reformist trope. The fact that Constantino had to stoop to carefully editing Rizal’s words so they would fit his preconceptions is practically scandalous. Yet, in many ways, Constantino’s vision of Rizal is broadly accepted.

One of the problems, and this I feel strongly, with our current approach to Rizal is that it removes him from our ability to relate. Yes, it’s fantastic and all that Rizal learned 23 languages (yeah…whatever). But to continue to hold that up as a reason why he should be admired is kind of ridiculous. It’s the aggrandizement of minutia. Of little pieces of flotsam and jetsam that basically add up to something ephemeral.

Because of how we approach Rizal, with all these misguided attempts at humanizing him, we (individually and collectively) fail to approach him as he would have wanted: Through his ideas. His dreams. His hopes. His understanding of the Philippines. Its his words that should inspire. His real words, not those carefully edited and culled by colonially deficient pseudo-historians. Not the number of women he supposedly slept with. And most definitely not in the number of languages he spoke.

Yes, Rizal’s words. How novel.

The Three Parts of Rizal’s Writings

One of the saddest parts of how we have let Rizal down is with regards to his three great works: Noli Me Tangere, El Filibusterismo, and his annotated Morga. We all know the Noli and the Fili, few know the Morga. Which is sad, because while the Noli and Fili reflected his criticisms and worries about the present and future, the Morga is where his passion for the Filipino comes shining through.

The story of the Morga is almost romantic: Rizal sitting in the vastness of a library in London, painstakingly hand copying Antonio de Morga’s Sucesos de las Islas Filipinas. Rizal went on to review and read every historical account of the Philippines he could get his hands on. Using those materials, he combed through the entire Morga line by line, offering up pointed criticisms of Morga’s history of the Philippines. In those notations we discover Rizal’s unwavering belief in the goodness and nobility of the Filipino; even if the scholarship upon which those notations were made was questionable at best. Rizal firmly believed that the study of history must be in service of the needs of the present. This was history as pure propaganda. Rizal’s purpose was to ignite the spirit of the Filipino by ‘showing’ them what was lost. In terms of the scholarly study of history, this type of myth-building is unacceptable. But, for a man who was fighting to preserve the soul of his country, it is perfectly acceptable and understandable. Sometimes you need collective myths to inspire a slumbering people.

Father John Schumacher makes the point that the Noli, Fili, and Morga offer up Rizal’s pathway to nationalism for the Philippines. The Morga was the historical foundation upon which the new Philippine nation was to be built; the Noli a searing criticism of the current ills of colonial society; while the Fili was a warning against certain actions that had no hope (at that time) of proving to be successful.

Last year, as we all well remember, was Jose Rizal’s 150th birth anniversary. There was the expected pomp and circumstance necessary for such an august occasion. And this year is the 151st celebration of his birthday. I wonder…do we know him any better? For all that has gone on in the last year, are we any closer to understanding what he hoped and dreamed of for the Philippines?

The answer is easily found actually. Just take a look at how his popular image is used and abused. It is almost disturbing how many people seem to speak on behalf of Rizal nowadays.

Broadly, we lack critical engagement with Jose Rizal’s actual words. Too much of his writings are filtered through almost perversely erroneous ideology. It is…unfortunate. And it seems that as the years pass by we are leaving Rizal further and further behind.

There were two ways I was considering approaching a post on the 114th anniversary of the founding of the Philippine Republic, neither were inherently “positive” (so to speak). The first was to look at how little the Republic matters in domestic affairs. Oh sure the idea that it was the first Asian constitutional democracy is something we all know. Or at least should know. And sure we talk about how wonderful it was that Filipinos revolted against a collapsing Spanish empire. But beyond those superficial little details, the names and some dates and places, we know very little about the Philippine Republic. Its foundations, trials and tribulations. The hopes and fears and dreams of the men and women who sacrificed so much to try and build a better country.

The other was to approach how flawed our public, and even scholarly, histories are in how they approach that era. Most material is filtered through the lens of the American Imperial Era. American historians and translators culled our Spanish era documentary history to create a self-serving interpretation of the Filipino people’s past. They downplayed the Republic, for good reason. The Republic was still extant, the men and women still fighting against the burgeoning American hegemony. They co-opted our history, they co-opted some of our dead heroes, and they systematically defiled and degraded the heroism of members of the Philippine Revolution and Republic. They re-interpreted the Philippine Revolution in support of American interests. That insidious colonialism is still found in much of our histories. The battle to remove much of it has barely begun.

Upon reflection, these two approaches are intertwined. Our public perception of the revolution and republic are fatally flawed, precisely because of the nature of our public histories. There are a number of scholars, men who have plumbed the depths of the philosophical, political, social, and economic nature of the 19th century, to compile complex and challenging understandings of Filipinos and their fight for independence. But those insights rarely filter into public histories. Instead, our popular histories play along the insignificant edge of the margins of Philippine history. They revel in pop gossip, luxuriating in miscellany; proffering it up as deep insights into the heroes of our past. Instead of deepening our understanding of our history, it turns our history into nothing more than insubstantial fluff.

Among the writers who have tried to reconstruct our history as a risen people are Father John Schumacher, O.D Corpuz, Resil Mojares, Floro Quibuyen, Vicente L. Rafael, and others. Then there are the brilliantly insightful writers, like Nick Joaquin and Felice Sta. Maria, and Anding Roces, who would never call themselves historians, but bring (brought) new insights and connections to the study of our history. Yet, among those names just listed the only one who may have any such broad resonance would be Joaquin. And in his case only as a fiction writer.

Bringing up a scholarly point, the root of history is the Latin word historia, which means inquiry. The basis for the study of history is simple: It’s about asking questions, inquiring into our past. That, I truly believe, is something that our historians have forgotten. History is not about ideology or politics, its not about reworking it to fit a pre-determined narrative; in the process losing the cumulative narrative thread of our history. The broad understanding of the Philippine Republic is a prime example of that. The 19th century is more about the Cult of Personality, more about the importance of a few select individuals, and far less about the struggle of the Filipino people throughout the archipelago to not only defeat the Spanish, but establish a Philippine Republic. We fixate on the struggle, we forget about what came after the struggle. I doubt many know that the Philippine Republic had a police force, that it raised taxes and sold war bonds, that it maintained a postal service and established a university. These are all integral components of the Philippine revolutionary experience, yet they are ignored. Even fewer know that there was an American military report that detailed how there was a functioning Filipino led government. Of course that report was buried, forgotten, so that American leaders could build the case for invading our country.

With so much of our history left by the wayside, it is little wonder that the importance of that history is broadly unappreciated. Felice Sta. Maria purposefully called her epic book on the Philippine Republic Visions of the Possible. O.D Corpuz titled his book on the military nature of the Philippine Revolution Saga and Triumph. While Father Schumacher named his compilation of essays on the 19th century propaganda movement The Making of a Nation. Floro Quibuyen, as well, titled his book about Rizal and the Revolution A Nation Aborted. 

See, that is the forgotten component of the Revolution and Republic. It was not just about defeating the Spanish and later the Americans, it was about building a Filipino nation; and everything that entailed. The question for us is: Do we even know what our heroes believed that nation entailed? Oh the answers are there for us to find. They are writ large in their actions and words. That is one of the great things about our revolutionary history, so much of its meaning is preserved. Yet, we barely look at it, rarely delving deep to construct the vision of the Philippines that our heroes were trying to create. It was far deeper and far more resonant than just independence from colonialism.

After all, without understanding what our heroes were fighting for, and what the Philippine Republic was supposed to represent, how can we even begin to fathom who we are as a people and nation today? That is a continuing struggle, one that is visible every single day. And an issue that will continue to haunt us, unless really begin to inquire about our past. 

That understanding will not only set us free, it will help us fulfill a 114 year old promise of true independence.

Thanks to @ninaterol for sending this my way.

A fascinating 3D walkthrough of the Spoliarium by Juan Luna. The work was accomplished by ‘karlgustav’ (according to the Vimeo page) of UST.

Nicely done.

lopeziana:

Postscript to La Pepa and A Painting by Francisco de Goya y Lucientes: La Junta de Filipinas

“In 1815, Goya was commissioned to commemorate a meeting of the junta of the Royal Company of the Philippines, then a Spanish colony. The result was one of the most subtly devastating comments ever made by an artist on officialdom, on the pompous gathering of authorities to determine the fate of others. In the dead center of the canvas, whose vast dimensions (more than thirteen feet wide) and sweeping one-point perspective suggest virtual extension of the spectator’s space into the council room, we see Ferdinand VII himself, a tiny figure seated haughtily against a round-back chair a trifle larger than those that fan out around him. But this foreboding image of power is so remote that it becomes a phantom of judicial authority. Moreover, the simple box space, evocative of the most stable and rational order, is invaded by engulfing shadows that contrast strangely with the disintegrating glare of sunlight from what seems an alien world outside. Inside, all is darkness and inertia. The figures on the two sides have barely the energy left to shift their legs as they squirm with boredom, and those on the dais look as if they may soon be absorbed into their chairs.”

Quote from 19th-Century Art by Robert Rosenblum and H.W. Janson

To know more about the painting

Fantastic painting.

The power of well-written and researched history, by professional historians aware of their vast responsibilities, is that it provides the tools needed craft a better future for all. In Margaret MacMillan’s conclusion in The Uses and Abuses of History she wrote “…a citizenry that cannot begin to put the present into context, that has so little knowledge of the past, can too easily be fed stories by those who claim to speak with the knowledge of history and its lessons.”  That is the situation extant in the country today. It is a situation that fuels many of the social, cultural, and political problems that we still face. One of the things that history teaches is to challenge dogmatic and sweeping generalizations, especially those that purport to have all the answers, to be the one true interpretation of the past.  History provides us with the tools necessary to question and question some more, while bad history (and its application) does little more than mislead and obscure; usually for purely political or selfish interests.

A little self-serving is allowed now and then right? Please click through to read my little essay on bad history and how it is affecting our understanding of EDSA 1.

In the beginning, my primary hope for the new DOT slogan was that it resonates with international audiences. Now, it may be my hopes are a bit higher, and broader, than before.

Looking back a bit, the fundamental flaw with regards to WoW Philippines was precisely that it did not resonate internationally. The gaudiness of the advertisements, the inherent lack of message in the tagline (you think #itsmorefuninthePhilippines is bad now, imagine how much fun netizens would have had with WoW Philippines), spelled its doom internationally.

Let’s face it, while there are serious flaws in our tourism policies and products (what products?), our inability to create internationally resonant branding also spelled doom for our tourism community. I still believe this is why our government began the whole domestic tourism campaign (and movable holidays): We were failing to attract inbound tourists, so we had to promote internal tourism.

Of course, the rarely spoken point is that we ignored culturally and historically significant tourism product development. Now, one critique I have heard is that heritage tourism is flawed because it focuses on international audiences. I think that ignores the broader importance of heritage conservation rooted in the surrounding environment. As well, other countries have demonstrated that historical preservation and conservation, far from creating pockets of cultural affluence, redound positively throughout and environment. It connects the denizens of that area to their history, it creates communities. And economically speaking, preservation and the leveraging of those artifacts positively impacts the development of localities. It attracts tourists, it encourages capital infusions and development; properly harnessed it can be a boon for social entrepreneurship endeavors. Urban renewal does not require new structures, it can happen with the proper preservation and restoration of old built heritage. Tourism, whether domestic or international, is not just about attracting visitors; properly harnessed, it can be about social, cultural, and economic development. Tourism is just like any other industry, it has its issues and possibilities. But in a country like ours, it can be a major force for positive growth and development. What it comes down to is how we go about promoting that development, not only in how we package it. Because, and this cannot be said enough, our heritage is amazing, it’s gorgeous, and it’s compelling.

On a broader social note, some of the brouhaha surrounding the tagline seems to be grounded in non-constructive wellsprings. For example, the prevalence of binary thinking in our society; the idea that because there are social ills extant the entirety of the Philippines is disreputable. The negative portions of the country should not, should never, obscure the positives. Just because we have poverty does not mean we lack in natural beauty. Just because there are cultural flaws, does not mean we aren’t a vibrant and attractive country. Culture is not an either or proposition; yet in many ways our modes of thinking are rooted in precisely that.

As well, it seems that we have a tendency to demand change, and yet refuse to accept change; arguing that (amorphously I might add) it’s not the change we want. Well, what exactly is it we want to change then? Moving forward as a country is not an instantaneous event. Projects, programs, changes, whatever should be evaluated on their own merits, within their own context, and whether or not they will positively impact the country over time (not just now). Our continuing desire to demand socio-economic reforms, or anti-corruption measures, or new tourism campaigns, then reject them out of hand when presented is a flaw that contributes to stymying the evolution of the nation. There is a distinct difference between taking a principled, intellectual, and critical stand on an issue (whether for or against) and continuing to reject or accept any all attempts immediately. The idea of oppositional politics and modes of thinking (again going back to the binary) is so deeply embedded in our public discourse that it is difficult to distinguish between constructive criticism and just plain bitching. We have this both romanticized and simplified idea of what a public intellectual is: Essentially, it has become someone who just denigrates, no matter the issues or position. Even if it might contradict a position that person took in the past, or be incompatible with their ‘political and social philosophy’ (if they have one that is). We admire the contradictory, without even questioning the fundamentals in terms of philosophy or thought behind the opposition. Take a stand; be principled, critical, and incisive. That, I truly believe, will be a boon to the country. It very well may be that the latest campaign does fail. But at the very least, we should try and make sure that it does succeed. Failure is an option, but it should only be an option. It only becomes an eventuality when we as a country prefer to endlessly chase our tails rather than try and contribute to shared success.

As I said earlier, my initial reaction to the latest tourism slogan was negative. I thought it trite and more than a little superficial. But after my early trepidation, I saw what they were trying to say and how they were trying to say it. And I must say I have had a slight change of heart. Yes, I still think there are serious shortfalls in our tourism product development plans and policies; yes, I think it might leave itself open to ridicule (Sex Tourism. #itsmorefuninthephilippines), but I appreciate what they are trying to do. I can see the possibilities. That does not mean I am a dyed-in-the-wool evangelical convert. It does mean that I can see the possibilities and how it can actually be of benefit to the Philippines. And at least optimistically believe that we might finally have a quality, internationally resonant campaign.

Somewhat surprisingly, this campaign indirectly touches on something that remains unaddressed in public discourse. One of the continuing issues in the Philippines has nothing to do with our culture, our economy, our geography, or politics; it’s about how we view ourselves. It’s about our identity. The idea of ‘fun’ in the Philippines speaks to that issue, it’s about changing mindsets and allowing the Filipino to have a stake in how our country is viewed and appreciated. Not only that, in doing so, in offering new ways to see our country, it offers Filipinos the opportunity to see their country in a new light. Yes, it is fun in the Philippines, and because of who we are and what we are blessed with, it can be more fun in the Philippines.

Lurking beneath the initially apparent superficiality, that is quite a powerful message indeed. One that strikes at the very heart of who we are as a people, and what we might become. I always go back to it, but I truly believe that James Fallows was wrong. Our culture is not flawed or broken. What needs to be addressed is how we see, how we appreciate, our culture and country. It’s our identity and how it is constructed that needs remedying. I don’t think it necessarily begins with thinking of ourselves as ‘fun’, but maybe it can. Sometimes it takes little steps in the right direction.

I think I am going to be contrary: I do believe it is much more fun in the Philippines.

I had an interesting conversation with a sociologist and a historian yesterday. In part we touched on the idea of self-assessed poverty, and how it intersected with Nick Joaquin’s A Heritage of Smallness. 

It is difficult to question when someone rates themselves as poor. But I think it is an important question to ask. By what standard of living can we self-differentiate between poverty and middle class in the Philippines?

In the course of a research project, and doing some outreach work, one of the people I talked to brought up the fact that some people who aren’t necessarily poor according to Philippine economic and social standards rate themselves as poor. For example, one subject is a driver for a company. He owns a piece of land in an urban area (bought legitimately), he built a home on it. His wife works as an accountant in a major accounting firm, they have two children both going to a decent private school. Yet, when asked if he is poor, he still says yes. By most social standards, owning land, having a home, putting children through private school, and owning a motorcycle would qualify nebulously as middle class. Yet here that standard of living it seems is still self-rated as being ‘poor.’

In this discussion a differentiation between extreme poverty, those who live under the international standard of $1.25 a day, has to be made. I am not referring to those who live in abject poverty. It is very difficult to bring up whether someone is poor or not, so may be the better social question is what do we see as not poor.

I wonder if our understanding of what it means to be middle class is still colored by our colonial history. We have been indoctrinated with wholly western standards of wealth and affluence. In a way, I wonder if we only consider those who live in the golden ghettos of Greenhills and Makati as being not poor; or being affluent.

Poverty and economic standing require social context. What might be poor in one country is not necessarily poor in another. We can look at the raw numbers (average income and so on) and say, yes the Philippines is poor vis-a-vis our neighbors and other nations in the world. And yes, that would be accurate. Just as an American of average means would likely be considered ‘poor’ according to the Basques or Norwegians. But within our social and economic context what necessarily makes someone see themselves poor and what will allow them to see themselves as middle class? Beyond the raw numbers that is.

This brings in Joaquin’s idea in his A Heritage of Smallness essay. He was arguing that the way we construct our identity becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy of sorts. We see ourselves as a poor nation, so we are a poor nation. We see ourselves as corrupt, so corruption flourishes. We see ourselves as downtrodden, so we become doormats.

Going back to my original question: By what standard is middle class in the Philippines? Is someone who can own land, own a house, and send their children to a decent private school objectively poor?

It is a thorny question, one that is difficult to even ask without inciting recriminations of the person asking the question. There is little doubt that our country is ‘poor’ right now. Yet I do wonder: Is our perception of ourselves as a poor people coloring our perception of individual circumstances?

panchodelaluna:

(Noam Chomsky)

A good friend of mine, iwriteasiwrite, rightfully observes that “there is a distinct lack of public intellectuals in the Philippines; men and women who not only challenge the system, but seeks redemptive national paths.,” and that this “lack” is “deeply…

This is an amazing essay and well worth the time to read.

My friend @panchodelaluna (with his inimitable style and grace) has pointed out a serious shortfall in Philippine public discourse, well actually the major shortfall in Philippine public discourse: The complete lack of worthy public intellectuals. His fundamental basis for that argument utilizes the definitions and discourse of Edward Said; a man who should be far more popular and well known among the limited ‘intelligensia’ in this country. Sadly, I truly cannot say he is even that known, outside of a few people who have studied abroad. Said’s notes on intellectuals and their role in society are incredibly important in the Philippines today. Without individuals taking on that public intellectual leadership role I fear our social and intellectual progress (set aside economic) will remain stillborn.

The very obvious problem is, the intellectuals have abandoned this task of speaking the truth and exposing lies, that the emperor has no clothes indeed, by associating themselves with power systems and upholding their meritorious profession in disregard of its attendant responsibilities.

To be regarded as a public intellectual implies undertaking tasks outside his or her own specialized field; which entails, as Edward Said noted and exemplified, “passionate engagement, risk, exposure, commitment to principles, vulnerability and being involved in worldly causes.”

If the public looks up to politicians as public intellectuals from what Said underlines, from the most objective, rational point of view, politicians are (almost) a compete failure. 

- @panchodelaluna

Our politicians have taken it upon themselves to be the intellectual luminaries of the nation. They play both sides against the middle, never taking a stand and instead preferring to pander to the vast needs of the masses. They say they are out to reform the system, while upholding it through corruption and back room dealings. They emasculate the Filipino through sleight of hand and advertising chicanery. The role of the intellectual has been appropriated and what is left are court jesters; men and women who willingly support the machinations of the politicians in exchange for political and economic favoritism.

There are many though who trying to reform the system. They are found on the ground, in NGOs, working with the people. There are writers and thinkers in the public sphere and the academe who decry the state of the nation, and actually try and do something about it.

But, let’s be clear here, just because someone says that the system is rotten does not mean they are fulfilling the role of the public intellectual. More often than not those who are most vehement are the most ideologically bound, the most prone to forgoing values in favor of political expediency. By expediency I mean, supporting an empty ideology so wholly and completely that the focus of bettering the lives of Filipinos is lost.

Being a member of the peanut gallery is not enough; they have to become leaders in trying to reshape the nation. Leadership is far more than the simplistic idea of the man making the decisions. It is about being active and positive forces for public change, in any milieu. Being a leader does not require a position of authority; managers require authority. Leaders just need opportunity.

Let me be quite clear, those who spend most of their time railing against the status quo primarily because they don’t like the person in power, or they aren’t of the same political leanings, or they didn’t vote for them, or for any number of reasons and remain on that level are part of the problem. The issues facing the Philippines are so vast that it requires not only leadership in government, but leaders in civil society to attack, tear down, and rebuild the system.

When it comes to the various -isms, I usually reserve my fiercest criticisms, precisely because they inevitably intellectually emasculate their blind devotees. What ever the political or philosophical leaning, these various schools of thought provide the prisms through which to identity and address social and economic issues at hand. The school of thought itself is not the solution. Relying on communism or capitalism to be the solution is the same as expecting a benevolent dictator to take control and lead us to the promised land: It is lazy, it betrays a lack of intellectual fortitude and the much-needed constancy to identify, face, and work to address social ills.

Instead, we have changeable ninnies in the public sphere; men and women who confuse being subversive with being loud and contentious; with being incisive with being divisive. The end result is a dead public discourse; one burdened with rhetoric and recriminations and little in the way of actual discussions.

I firmly believe that we need a new focus on the development of public intellectuals to truly reshape the Philippines. That is what we mean when we say we need more Rizals.

ibelieveicreate:

iwriteasiwrite:

That’s bullshit.

I don’t agree with all of what JunJun is planning in Intramuros, especially his connection between Clark Quay and Maestranza (instead I’ve offered San Antonio and San Sebastian as working models).

But her conclusion is complete and utter crap. Where do we start then? We need symbols of national unity, we need areas that make people proud to be Filipino. This reductive and simplistic ‘heritage is of the elites and the poor don’t have time for it’ attitude as got to go. Culture and history are the province of all Filipinos, without we don’t have a nation. Her reasoning, at least the underlying assumption, that we shouldn’t focus on heritage conservation while the country is impoverished is an intellectually bankrupt notion that foregoes the need for understanding context and history in reconstructing our country. Just because someone is poor we shouldn’t try and feed their souls? Feed their bodies, but ignore their hearts and minds? I don’t think so. We preserve what we have because it is who we are. Regardless of how impoverished the country is, regardless of how poor its people are. She raised some interesting points that were completely and totally discarded by that last paragraph.

More than that she completely misses the fact that redeveloping areas actually helps in urban renewable and redevelopment. I offer Bilbao as a prime example.

She completely misses the connection between rebuilding Intramuros and the work on the Pasig; she completely misunderstands what heritage tourism actually is. That is best illustrated by her comment about a ‘new grand mall.’ In what realm of common sense is a new mall heritage tourism? The idea of Maestranza (if that is what she is criticizing) is to turn it into a showplace for Filipiniana goods. That is what has been presented to me and that is what the discussions have centered around.

A hack job by someone who barely understands the intricacies of heritage conservation and preservation, much less its importance to urban renewal and redevelopment.

Point taken, though at least it opens up a small discussion on what the real essence of heritage tourism is. From my understanding of your response, we, I included, say the term “heritage tourism” without really knowing what it is and how it works. My opinion, and mine alone, is that we’re in love with the idea of heritage tourism while we hate the business of it, however others like both. Heritage tourism is a tricky business as those who are into it have to be totally mindful of the actions they do and the consequences these actions would entail. It involves several matters of importance to consider.

While she does have points to which I agree to, though all her ideas are unremarkable and a little shallow, she, as you’ve mentioned, kind of missed the point at the end. The whole realm of heritage preservation is our duty as it is our duty to make sure that we try to reduce, if not eradicate, widespread poverty, corruption and God knows what. The simple act of passing on what you know, like learning the whole process of balut-making is preserving heritage in itself. That’s what people don’t see… that they’re agents of heritage preservation. Not only the government, not only private companies or non-profit organizations, not only innovators or people with highfalutin or esoteric degrees from an esteemed university.

Well, we still have more to learn.

That is absolutely correct. I cannot believe people are missing the clear connection between heritage, tourism, and social and economic renewal.

The issue at hand is that she seems to separate urban renewal from heritage preservation and tourism; as if the two cannot coexist. This is patently false. More to the point, without heritage preservation a country loses its flavor; a locality becomes homogenous. I shudder to imagine a nation where Baguio looks the same as Manila, or Cebu City the same as Makati City.

Oh. Wait.

Heritage preservation for the sake of tourism seems to be the point of contention here. As if we should be preserving heritage just because we need to. That’s true, we should be. But in our milieu and our society, where we place such little importance on culture and history, tourism becomes the accessible hook to promote tourism. It’s a conscious decision. And it’s one that is actually supported by her last statement. She, and those who believe as she does, are quite willing to forgo supporting heritage efforts just because the country is poor.

Well, fuck that.

The end result is a culturally and economically impoverished nation; a country of people with little to no pride, absolutely lacking in a cultural backbone. If that is the case, then there is no reason to call ourselves Filipinos; because the word itself will have no meaning. The fact is heritage conservation and sustainable economic development can go hand in hand. Yes, there are issues that have to be addressed, but that is far better than leaving our heritage to die.

The vision of a nation of economically sustained people without a cultural soul is depressing to say the least.

(Source: galeriaderojo, via galeriaderojo)