A few days ago, a couple of friends and I had a small discussion with our professor on the current state of the Philippines. What started as a few messages comparing the old university curriculum and the new curriculum turned into a call for our generation to spark change. 

Privilege has been seen as a distinct tool of division between the upper and the lower classes of society. It acts as a gold star, bestowing immediate and direct access to proper healthcare, quality education, clean water, shelter, and so on – superpowers not everyone can afford. 

The moment I took notice of my own privilege, I found that merely being born into a middle class family already puts me at an advantage over students in public schools, workers struggling to make ends meet, and families residing in slums. As a student, it has granted me superpowers I honestly can’t imagine living without, from the opportunity to choose the university of my liking, to the connections I need to secure a stable and promising career. Basically, my privilege has granted me the freedom to live however I wish. (READ: [OPINION] What privilege feels like after moving to Metro Manila)

But for a society to thrive, the privileged must be made aware of and held accountable for their superpower and its responsibilities. Unfortunately, that’s far from reality.

The abuse and misuse of one’s privilege is evident in the way our nation has operated. It is especially responsible for the creation of narratives that have redirected our attention from the root of our problems: our perpetuation of a system negligent of its duties towards the common good. 

In a regime heavily concerned with the silencing of critics and the stripping of basic human rights, I’ve noticed the lengths to which people go to protect the privilege and connections they’ve been granted. Acts such as siding with the perpetrator, barring meaningful protest and open conversations, and censoring valuable information continue to encourage a system that feeds on fear and miseducation. And although it is only human to be on the lookout for ourselves, we must not allow ourselves to settle for a status quo without equal rights and justice.

How ironic is it that despite the presence of a day supposedly marking the freedom of our nation, there continues to be a knife hanging over our heads? How ironic is it that our power of dissent is being strangled by the very people who need it to effectively lead and carry out their job? How ironic is it that the people who have sworn to protect and serve us are the very people holding a gun to the heads of the voiceless and the powerless?

Every day, the rest of the country continues to suffer from the abuse of privilege and the lack of social accountability, and it is in this constant uphill battle to simply survive that hope fades and fear takes its place. With the many ironies, inconsistencies, and obscurities surrounding our administration and the system in which it operates, we have to understand its consequences for vulnerable groups and secluded minorities. (READ: It's about privilege, not about working or studying hard)

My privilege has granted me a plane ticket to escape these muddied waters. But the prevailing abuse of our nation’s law, threats against security, and violence in the streets – clear signs of self-serving privilege – are a reminder that it’s not the time to look away. Though we are swimming in a pool of filth left over from generations ago, that doesn’t mean we’re excused from feeling any sort of guilt or responsibility towards the nation. That is why we must use our privilege as a tool to shape solidarity. Solidarity against the face of injustice and selective justice. Solidarity in support of the little guy. Solidarity in the middle of threats and looming dangers.

By the end of our conversation, our professor reminded us of our right to vote. 

Come July 1, 2020, voter registration will finally resume. That opens up another avenue where we could put our privilege to good use. The tools are in the hands of the privileged – the educated and those who have the ability to critically dissect information – and it is up to us take a stand against the villains who guised themselves as victors. It is through learning about the responsibility that comes with this superpower that we also learn to never turn a blind eye, to never stay silent on issues that matter, and to always educate ourselves and allow ourselves to be educated.

Desperate cries to cancel 2020 and its many horrors may have flooded the internet and our own thoughts, but the year must continue as a reminder of our need to dismantle these abusive power structures and build an atmosphere of equality and mutual respect – which is why it’s paramount that we exercise what rights we still have left. With an open eye towards the powers of our privilege, we must realize the need to take matters into our hands. And in doing so, we must bear in mind that it’s not too late to take what rightfully belongs to us. – Rappler.com

Gab Jopillo is taking up AB Communication at the University of Santo Tomas.

During the period of a pandemic, unhampered by vaccine, the resumption of normal classes exposes the school community to the risk of infection. Experts do not expect a vaccine to be widely available before 18 to 24 months. We need, therefore, to weigh the potential risks of a vaccine-less school reopening against the certain harm that will follow from a lengthy school lockdown. 

An extended delay in schooling will inflict immediate and long-term harm to students and their families, to schools and their personnel, and to society. The negative consequences include: the loss of between 25-75% of what students had already learned in the preceding school year; increased risks of drop-out; and the erosion of future earning potential. 

For these injuries to learners, the government cannot provide insurance or compensation. The delay of school reopening beyond August will also compel more than 80% of the private higher education institutions (HEIs) to retrench, if not to close down. Their collapse will roll back the gains government has made in improving access to the tertiary level and promoting the goal of inclusive education. (READ: No student left behind? During pandemic, education ‘only for those who can afford’)

To ensure that education continues, schools abroad have introduced various health security precautions: protective masks; temperature checks at campus entrances and exits; provision of soaps and sanitizers. 

They also reduced or canceled activities such as Physical Education sessions and on-the-job internships that involved large numbers of students or prolonged face-to-face contact, changed classroom seating arrangements and class schedules to maintain social distance. Above all, they moved to make heavier use of distance education options.  

'Blended learning strategy'

DepEd, along with CHED, TESDA, and many school administrators and academics, believe that this approach of implementing health security measures and adopting a “blended learning strategy” would allow the reopening of schools.  

Based on this strategy, DepEd formulated a Basic Education Learning Continuity Plan (BE-LCP) and presented it to the InterAgency Task Force for its approval. IATF approved the plan on May 11 and the August 24 start of the 2020-21 schoolyear. Many private schools were prepared to follow the DepEd lead.

What appeared to impress President Duterte about the BE-LCP was the adoption of multiple distance learning options that included the delivery of printed and digital learning materials to the students, as well as  instruction via radio and television and the internet. (READ: Duterte eyes purchase of radios for students in far-flung areas during pandemic)

He assured DepEd of funds to cover the cost of these options. But he did not support the blended learning strategy. He accepted the August school start but has repeatedly rejected physical classes until learners have vaccine protection.  

Duterte's problematic stand

The President’s stand poses a problem for DepEd and the private schools.

First, the blended learning strategy was central to the BE-CLP and blended learning, by definition, assumes the conduct of some normal classroom sessions. 

Second, the rejection of blended learning denies DepEd the ability to leverage its main strength – the force of 800,000 teachers that it can deploy for face-to-face instruction to support the implementation of distance learning options. 

Third, this support is necessary to make effective use of such options for which most students and teachers are still unfamiliar and insufficiently prepared.  

Even in developed countries with superior technology and minimal digital divide, no one has claimed the superiority of a learning process that completely abandons physical learning sessions. The pandemic has made distance learning a necessary tool. But it cannot serve as the exclusive approach to education while we wait for a vaccine.  

COVID-19 has disrupted the education of 1.6 billion students in 161 countries around the world.  McKinsey reviewed the international experience to identify the strategies used to deal with the pandemic. Shutting down schools was the most drastic response. Some countries never locked down schools. Many countries which did, are now reopening them, though a vaccine is nowhere yet in sight.  

McKinsey also noted that, despite recourse to common coping mechanisms, how specific measures were implemented varied from country to country and, indeed, from school to school. This was a rational approach, since schools varied in the constraints they faced, the resources they could deploy and their priority goals. Rather than impose one future event, like the vaccine, as a uniform condition for the reopening of all schools, should not government consider the ground realities of each school, including the public health environment it must deal with?

Why should normal classes be prohibited in the provinces, like Siquijor and Bohol, where the pandemic has not significantly penetrated? The IATF had actually approved DepEd face-to-face learning “when the local risk severity grading permits, and subject to compliance with minimum [underlining supplied] health standards.”  

Government can mandate stringent health precautions that schools must take before resuming classroom instruction. But no school can guarantee absolute immunity from infection, not when most students have to commute, crowding on the streets to catch a ride on limited public transportation services.  

Who will dare to resume classroom sessions, defying repeated presidential statements making physical classes contingent on vaccine protection? Imposing this condition effectively undermines the continuity of learning plan that DepEd and schools had hoped to pursue. – Rappler.com 

Edilberto C. de Jesus is professor emeritus at the Asian Institute of Management.

As countries attempt to overcome the spread of COVID-19, the Philippines faces the equally challenging task of providing life-saving medical equipment to health personnel and patients. Such equipment, however, are not readily available due to their sudden increase in demand worldwide. Likewise, their procurement has grown to be more complex owing to the exigencies of the circumstances. Some businesses have temporarily ceased operating because of inadequate workforce, while government agencies and suppliers are saddled with the restrictions of time, place, and technology as they respond to the crisis.

To promptly address these matters, Republic Act No. (RA) 11469, also known as the “Bayanihan to Heal as One Act,” was enacted. 

The Bayanihan Act and government procurement

With the effectivity of the Bayanihan Act, some crisis-related procurement activities are now exempt from the application of competitive public bidding procedures found in RA 9184, otherwise known as the “Government Procurement Reform Act.”

In line with this, the Philippine Government Procurement Policy Board issued GPPB Resolution No 03-2020 which provides a convenient way to procure goods and services during a state of national emergency like the current pandemic. It allows the procuring entity to dispense with the conventional mode of public bidding by directly negotiating/contracting with a qualified supplier through Negotiated Procurement.

Definitely, the new guidelines have given the government ample room to operate efficiently, especially since time is of the essence and thus urgent action is needed. 

Negotiated procurement v. competitive public bidding 

While the foregoing demonstrate a significant development in Philippine government procurement, it is important to note that such optimism should never be conflated with certitude. There being no definite timeline for the pandemic, it is only apt to consider the sustainability of Negotiated Procurement in the long run, specifically for purposes of transparency and public accountability. 

The reason for this is such mode of procurement will likely remain susceptible to abuses, including graft and corruption. Moreover, the procured products will place the government at a great disadvantage particularly in terms of their condition, price, and overall quality. (READ: Despite lack of DOH guidelines, Duterte orders purchase of COVID-19 rapid test kits)

To illustrate, there are already reports of inaccurate and defective testing kits going around, abruptly halting the testing of “persons under investigations,” as well as “high-risk and immuno-compromised individuals.”Just recently, allegations of corruption and price gouging of medical equipment have likewise surfaced, prompting the government to commence an investigation on the matter. Surely, without having to go through the process of competitive public bidding, the dangers of corruption, overpricing, and counterfeit goods will just be a door knock away. (READ: Ombudsman probes Duque, DOH for alleged coronavirus anomalies)

Given the above, it seems that reverting to the conventional mode of public bidding is not only imperative but also inevitable. However, one would argue that such mode should barely have face-to-face interactions, and hence, a competitive public bidding using the Electronic Procurement (E-Procurement) platform might be a viable option worth considering. 

The E-Procurement platform

Essentially, the E-Procurement platform utilizes information and communications technology in the procurement process with the Philippine Government Electronic System (PhilGEPS) serving as the portal for “the primary and definitive source of information on government procurement.” 

Notably, even before the pandemic, all procuring entities have been mandated to use the PhilGEPS. Despite this, the benefits of E-Procurement have yet to be realized for a myriad of reasons. The same could be attributed to one’s lack of awareness of and readiness with the System. It could also be ascribed to our inadequate broadband infrastructures, thereby resulting in limited internet access and slow internet speed. 

In any event, studies show that as of 2011, around 1,500 government agencies remain unregistered with the PhilGEPS, and that over 80% of the local government units are not yet connected with the System. Further, over 50% of government suppliers do not use PhilGEPS, whereas the registered ones fail to even use it.

Now that we are dealing with the intricacies of the pandemic, the importance of digital technology becomes considerably pronounced. Thus, addressing the foregoing concerns is a good opportunity to maximize the potential of E-Procurement for future use. As for the PhilGEPS, its composition and scope of authority can also be revisited to make its services more accessible to various suppliers. Concomitantly, this will pave way in updating the inventory of goods and services that may be subject to “Repeat Orders” or “Shopping” in anticipation of another lockdown taking place.  

Concluding remarks

As the country tries to recover from the COVID-19 pandemic, it is only high time to begin embracing the “new normal.” This includes doing long-term planning and investment in digital technology. For government procurement, there must be efforts to update all data, provide relevant training to personnel, encourage or incentivize small and mid-size enterprises to register and participate, and maintain proper coordination between government agencies and suppliers. Above all, our leaders should constantly observe effective policy implementation impelled by strong political will to achieve transparency, competition, efficiency, and public accountability in the procurement process. – Rappler.com

Niel Anthony Borja obtained his Juris Doctorate degree from the Ateneo Law School and is now a student in the Master of Laws (LL.M.) Program in the University of the Philippines. He is engaged in private law practice.

I am objecting to the Anti-Terrorism Act of 2020 (ATA) because of several provisions in the Act that are unconstitutional. 

Under the Constitution, the right against unreasonable arrests is an “inviolable” fundamental right. The Constitution uses the word “inviolable.” The ATA demolishes this “inviolable” fundamental constitutional right. (READ: [OPINION] Martial rule without martial law: An anti-terror bill subtext)

The Constitution declares that the right of the people “to be secure in their persons xxx against unreasonable xxx seizures of whatever nature and for any purpose” shall be “inviolable.” Seizures include arrest. So, it means that in arrests of whatever nature and for any purpose – whether it is arrest for ordinary crimes or for serious crimes, the right of the people against unreasonable arrest is “inviolable.” 

To guarantee this inviolability against unreasonable arrest, the Constitution erected two fortresses: the first fortress is that only a judge can issue warrants of arrests; the second fortress is that warrants of arrest must be issued only upon probable cause.  

Let us go to the first fortress – only a judge can issue warrants of arrest. Section 2, Article III of the 1987 Constitution mandates that “no xxx warrant of arrest shall issue except upon probable cause to be determined personally by the judge after examination under oath or affirmation of the complainant and the witnesses he may produce.” 

Under the 1935 Constitution only judges were authorized to issue warrants of arrests. The 1973 Constitution changed this and authorized executive officials to issue warrants arrest. The result was the notorious ASSOs issued by the Secretary of National Defense during Martial Law. The framers of the 1987 Constitution vowed never again, and reinstated the provision in the 1935 Constitution that only judges can issue warrants of arrests. There is no doubt whatsoever – under the present Constitution only a judge can issue a warrant of arrest. This first fortress must be “inviolable.” 

What has the ATA done? The ATA has demolished the first “inviolable” fortress and reinstated the ASSOs of the Martial Law era. Section 29 of the ATA, with the tell-tale heading “Detention Without Judicial Warrant of Arrest,” provides: “any law enforcement agent or military personnel who, having been duly authorized in writing by the ATC has taken custody of a person suspected of committing any of the acts defined and penalized under Sections 4 to 12” of the ATA shall not be liable if he or she detains a person for a total of 24 days without filing a judicial charge.  

Section 29 obviously refers to warrantless arrests outside of Rule 113 of the Rules of Court because any law enforcement agent or any citizen for that matter can effect a warrantless arrest under Rule 113 without written authority from anyone. If the law enforcement agent still needs a written authority from the Anti-Terrorism Council (ATC) to effect a warrantless arrest under Rule 113, then that will defeat the purpose of a warrantless arrest where time is of the essence. Under Rule 113, the crime is already being committed in the presence of the law enforcement officer and if he still has to secure a written authority from the ATC to arrest the offender then that would be senseless. Clearly, the written authority referred to in Section 29 is not for the purpose of effecting a warrantless arrest under Rule 113. 

The written authority of the ATC is necessary to arrest a person suspected of terrorism outside of the situations where warrantless arrests are already allowed under Rule 113. This was explained clearly by the principal author of the ATA, Senator Panfilo Lacson, as I will elaborate shortly. The ATC is, of course, a purely executive body under the control of the President – composed of 8 Cabinet secretaries and the Executive Director of the Anti-Money Laundering Council. This is obviously unconstitutional since under the present Constitution only a judge can issue a warrant of arrest. 

Let us go to the second fortress – warrants of arrest must be issued only upon “probable cause,” the term used in the Constitution. The ATA has also demolished this second fortress. 

“Probable cause” means the judge has reasonable grounds to believe, based on the affidavits of the complainant and his witnesses, that a crime has been committed and the person to be arrested probably committed the crime. In short, if the judge believes that no crime has been committed, he cannot and should not issue a warrant of arrest. 

During the Senate deliberations on the ATA, Senator Lacson, the principal author of the ATA, explained:  

“Hindi na rin po natin pinapalitan iyong provision sa citizen’s arrest in this case. Kaya lamang, ang in-expand natin ay iyong period. In ordinary vbgr crimes, hindi puwede iyong nasa planning stage, hindi naman niya ginawa, hindi naman siya nag-commit ng crime. Pero dahil iyong tinatawag nating inchoate offense, hindi pa nangyari, nasa simula pa lamang, puwede na nating arestuhin because we want to be proactive because this is a new phenomenon.”   

In short, under Section 29 the ATC is authorized to order the arrest of any person even if he or she has not committed any crime of terrorism. In the exact words of the principal author of the law, even if “hindi naman siya nag-commit ng crime xxx hindi pa nangyari xxx puede na nating arestuhin.”  The justification, according to Senator Lacson, is “we want to be proactive.” Section 29 does not provide standards or limitations on the power of the ATC to issue arrests orders, just like the ASSOs of the Martial Law era. Section 29 does not require “probable cause” before the ATC can issue an arrest order.  

Clearly,  the ATC can issue an arrest order even without “probable cause,” demolishing completely the second fortress erected by the Constitution to insure that the guarantee against unreasonable arrests is “inviolable.” The House of Representatives adopted en toto the Senate version authored by Senator Lacson, and thus the House is deemed to have adopted also the intent and interpretation of the Senate on Section 29. Obviously, any arrest order not founded on probable cause is unconstitutional.  

Under Section 25 of the ATA, the ATC is authorized to designate an individual or organization as a terrorist or engaged in terrorism. Section 25 provides: “The ATC may designate an individual, groups of persons, organizations or associations whether domestic or foreign, upon a finding of probable cause, that the individual xxx commit, or attempt to commit or conspire in the commission of the acts defined and penalized under Sections 4 to 12” of the ATA. Clearly, the ATC has the power to designate an individual or organization as a terrorist or engaged in terrorism. (READ: [ANALYSIS] The Anti-Terrorism Act: Duterte will have all dissenters’ necks)

Once so designated, the individual can now be arrested upon order of the ATC because the individual is engaged in terrorism. Likewise, any and all members of the organization so designated can also be arrested upon order of the ATC because under Section 10 mere membership in such organization is a criminal offense. Section 10 provides: “Any person who shall voluntarily and knowingly join any organization, association or group of persons knowing that such organization is xxx organized for the purpose of engaging in terrorism shall suffer the penalty of imprisonment of 12 years.”  

The penalty for mere membership in an organization designated by the ATC as engaged in terrorism – 12 years imprisonment – is bailable but the accused can be placed under “house arrest” instead, negating his constitutional right to bail. However, for those who recruit members to such an organization, the penalty is life imprisonment, a non-bailable offense if evidence of guilt is strong. Life imprisonment means you remain in prison throughout your physical life, and under the ATA there is no possibility of parole. This life imprisonment is different from the reclusion perpetua in the Revised Penal Code, the duration of which is 20 years and one day to 40 years, after which you are released from prison. 

The question is, how will the ATC make such designation? Is a hearing required where the individual or organization is represented? The only requirement under Section 25 is “upon probable cause,” which means that the ATC must have reasonable grounds to believe, based at least on affidavits of government witnesses, that the individual or organization is engaged in terrorism. However, “probable cause” does not require a hearing where the individual or organization can be heard to rebut the government  witnesses. Thus, under Section 25 the ATC can make the designation ex parte, without hearing the person or organization to be designated as engaged in terrorism. 

Is this constitutional? Of course this is unconstitutional. The Constitution provides that “the right of the people xxx to form associations xxx for purposes not contrary to law shall not be abridged.” This is the freedom of citizens to join any association of their choosing, provided the purpose of the association is not contrary to law. The Constitution also provides that “no person shall be deprived of xxx liberty without due process of law.” Putting these two provisions together, before the ATC can designate a person or organization as engaged in terrorism and arrest that person and members of the organization, there must be due process because a person can immediately be arrested and deprived of liberty if he or his organization is designated as engaged in terrorism. 

“Due process” means a hearing where the individual or organization can present their side to rebut the allegation that they are engaged in terrorism. Absent this due process, the designation of the individual or organization as engaged in terrorism will result in the deprivation of liberty of the individual and members of the organization. In short, since Section 25 allows the ATC to designate an individual or  organization as engaged in terrorism without a hearing thus resulting in deprivation of liberty without due process of law, Section 25 is unconstitutional. (READ: Close to home: Daughter of slain activist warns anti-terror bill will 'normalize' killings)

Let me give a graphic example of the application of Sections 10 and 25 of the ATA. Suppose there is a former Senator, let us call him Mr X, who is designated by the ATC as a terrorist under Section 25 because he allegedly engages in acts intended to cause extensive damage to public places or private properties for the purpose of creating an atmosphere of fear. This is an act of terrorism under Section 4(b) punishable with life imprisonment. The ATC orders his arrest and he is taken into custody by military personnel.  

Mr X’s  relatives file a petition for the writ of habeas corpus before the RTC on the fourth day of his arrest. The judge will issue the writ and require the custodian of Mr X to bring Mr X to the court on the 8th day of the arrest. When the judge asks the custodian why he is detaining Mr X, the custodian will produce the written authority from the ATC designating Mr X a terrorist and ordering his arrest. Unless Section 25 of the ATA is declared unconstitutional, the judge will have no recourse but to dismiss the petition for habeas corpus because Mr X is being detained pursuant to law and the government custodian has still 6 days to detain him before filing a criminal case in court, or even 16 more days if the ATC determines that law enforcement agents or military personnel need more time to gather evidence against Mr X. 

On the 24th day the ATC, through the prosecutor’s office, files a criminal case against Mr X for terrorism. The judge issues a commitment order because the judge finds probable cause to the non-bailable charge. Mr X can file a motion for reconsideration or motion to quash, appeal to the Court of Appeals and all the way to the Supreme Court, but in the meantime, as long as the warrant of arrest is not lifted, Mr X remains in detention, just like Senator Leila de Lima. That is the effect of Sections 10 and 25 of the ATA.

Let me go to another topic. Senate President Vicente Sotto III recently said "Hindi na kailangan ng Martial Law kapag napasanamin itong anti-terror bill." I agree with Senator Sotto that upon the enactment into law of ATA, Martial Law will be superfluous. 

Under the Constitution, the President can declare Martial Law and suspend the writ of habeas corpus for not more than 60 days. Congress by majority vote can revoke such declaration within 48 hours from its declaration. In contrast, the ATA once enacted into law remains in the statute books forever until repealed by Congress or invalidated by the Supreme Court.    

Under the Constitution, when Marital Law is declared and the privilege of the writ of habeas corpus is suspended, a person arrested for rebellion must be charged in court within 3 days from arrest, otherwise he shall be released. When he is judicially charged within three days, he can ask for bail if he is charged for an offense not punishable with reclusion perpetua, or if he is charged for an offense punishable with reclusion perpetua, he can ask for bail if evidence of guilt is not strong.   

Under the ATA, a person can be arrested for terrorism and detained for a total of 24 days before a judicial charge is required to be filed, whether he is charged for an offense punishable with life imprisonment or not. He can file a petition for habeas corpus right after the arrest, but once the custodian shows the written authority from the ATC, the judge will have to dismiss the petition because the person is being detained upon lawful order pursuant to law. 

In short, with the ATA as part of the law of the land, the Philippines will be permanently under a situation worse than Martial Law.  

My last point is the effect of the ATA on the presidential elections in May 2022. The ATA punishes speech, whether written, verbal or visual, that incites others to commit terrorism. The ATC, without a judicial warrant, can order the arrest of anyone for inciting to terrorism even before the incitement is made because the ATC is a “pro-active” body as explained by Senator Panfilo Lacson, the principal author of ATA. The arrested person can be detained for a total of 24 days. He can be released on the 25th day without any judicial charge.  

However, the released person can again be arrested after a few days and the 24-day cycle will start all over again, unlike in habeas corpus where under Rule 113 the person released by the court cannot be re-arrested again by law enforcement officers for the same charge unless by order of the court.  Under the ATA, there is no prohibition on the ATC to order another re-arrest of the same person for the same offense. 

The ATA will have a devastating effect on freedom of speech and freedom of the press in the May 2022 presidential elections. The Human Security Act of 2007 (HSA) is automatically suspended one month before and two months after the holding of any election. In contrast, the ATA, which repeals and replaces the HSA, is not suspended during any election.  

In conclusion, if we do not want to experience a permanent contraction of our civil liberties, we must all work to have the objectionable provisions in the ATA invalidated by the Supreme Court or repealed by Congress. Vigilance is the price of freedom. – Rappler.com

Antonio T. Carpio is a retired Supreme Court senior associate justice.

It was 2014 when my friends and I started the nonprofit Out of The Box Media Literacy Initiative. We were then fresh graduates of the journalism program of UP Diliman. Our mission then was to simply share to students what we learned from the university that we deemed were not given enough attention in other Mass Communication programs.

Topics such as the business of media, its structure, and its implications on the profession, and the "myth of objectivity" in journalism and how bias is embedded in news were key discussion points in the seminars we organized. We deconstructed (biased) articles from the Inquirer, and we criticized the dominance and near monopolization of ABS-CBN of our local media.

At that point "fake news" was still unheard of. The media freedom issues we bannered then were the call for justice for the victims of the Ampatuan Massacre and the passage of the Cybercrime Law. It was definitely quieter, and promoting media literacy as we did when we started out was simpler and more straightforward.

But it was not long until things picked up the pace and our problems became bigger, deeper, and more complex.

We didn't think then that press freedom could be a politically divisive issue the way it seems to be today.

Now that Out of The Box is working more closely with teachers, mostly those who handle the senior high school subject Media and Information Literacy (MIL), it has become usual for us to encounter teachers who are "on the other side of the fence."

We meet teachers online who, citing their freedom of speech and expression, preach about Rappler's biased news coverage and ABS-CBN's unlawful labor practices.

Funny how we find ourselves on the other end of the table, receiving lessons on media bias and the corporate character of the media from them. They explain that press freedom is as much a responsibility as it is a right, reserved only for those who do not violate the laws of the land. 

It made us think: is this what scholar Danah Boyd touted as the possibility of media literacy backfiring?

According to Boyd, media literacy asks people to question the information they’re receiving and find out the truth for themselves. By raising doubts about the motivations of information sources, people can avoid being duped.

Following this line of thought, one might wonder, can "media literacy" be blamed for the significant public support we are seeing for the closure of the broadcast giant last May and, more recently, the conviction of Maria Ressa and Rey Santos Jr over their cyber libel case?

Probably not, unless one's concept of media literacy is completely sourced from the Presidential Communications Operations Office (PCOO), who once labeled Ressa as "fake news" after obviously making an honest mistake in a TV interview. Surely that is propaganda dressed up as "media literacy."

This, however, does not mean that all the calls against Rappler, ABS-CBN, and all other media outfits accused of bias, fakery, and corruption should be denied their merits.

A democracy needs media-literate citizens who can hold their media institutions accountable, as much as we need these media institutions to do their jobs of holding the government accountable.

But this idealized setup is looking more and more hazy as we move towards deeper polarization.

Media literacy as a solution to this problem should then be re-configured not as some standardized skill set for deciphering whether information is or isn't reliable; questioning media authority; and accessing information that proves one's claims, among others. 

At this point, the public’s trust in the media is at its lowest in the Philippines and across the world. We cannot let "media literacy" be used as an excuse to sow distrust and divide people even further .

The pressure on media literacy advocates and teachers today is to find creative ways to build the social infrastructure needed for people to meaningfully engage across political divides. 

Journalists and news organizations can only do so much in trying to salvage what’s left of our social fabric. Schools and teachers, through media literacy for democracy, must do their part, too, in addressing our post-truth problems down to its roots. – Rappler.com

Marlon Nombrado is a teacher and one of the co-founders of Out of The Box Media Literacy Initiative, a local nonprofit organization that works to mainstream media literacy practices in the Philippines through campaigns, workshops, and educational resources.

“Walang pera.” (There’s no money.)

It’s a phrase we often hear from President Rodrigo Duterte, especially during his late night briefings. Last time we heard it was midnight of Monday, June 15, in the context of his proposal to buy transistor radios for quarantined students.

“Wala na tayong pera ngayon (We have no money now). I will look for the money to buy transistor radios to be distributed all throughout the country...We will try to do it,” said Duterte.

Setting aside the transistor radio issue for now, does government really have no money?

Cash-strapped though the Duterte government may be, it can always find ways to finance whatever it needs to spend on. In fact, in case you missed it, government has been signing billions of pesos worth of new loans in the past few weeks, one after another.

A lot more worrisome is the fact that all this time Duterte still hasn’t come up with a solid, well-thought-out fiscal plan. In the end, the new loans he got might not be put to good use.

Cash-strapped

We know government is cash-strapped because for some time now government has been operating on a budget deficit: its revenues have fallen short of its expenses.

Last April, with P461.7 billion of spending and only P187.8 billion of revenues, the government’s budget deficit reached P273.9 billion — easily the highest in decades. 

With the Philippine economy contracting for the first time in more than two decades, it’s hardly surprising to see government’s revenues have dried up. 

The pandemic has also exerted enormous pressure on government to spend on healthcare goods and services, as well as unprecedented amounts of emergency aid for Filipino households. Government’s expenses have invariably ballooned.

But even before the pandemic, the Duterte government’s budget deficit reached an all-time high last year owing to fiscal mismanagement. (READ: How the budget deficit exploded under Duterte’s watch)

New loans

A runaway deficit is worrying because it almost surely means the public debt will go up. 

True enough, new loans have started to come in. Figure 1 shows that the government has secured from multilateral agencies — the World Bank, Asian Development Bank, and the Asian Infrastructure Investment Bank — at least 8 new loans and 2 new grants from March 2020 to present. Government also raised $2.35 billion from the sale of global bonds. (READ: Duterte borrows another $500 million from World Bank for coronavirus)

Figure 1. 

Adding all these, you’ll arrive at a little over P340 billion. Although the new loans are ostensibly earmarked for Duterte’s COVID-19 response, most of it will be placed in a general fund that government can allot for any item in its budget as it sees fit.

These new loans will undoubtedly add to the country’s debt stock, which has climbed to P8.6 trillion as of April, with domestic debt far exceeding external debt (Figure 2).

Figure 2.

Our nation’s income has been rising as well, so economists naturally prefer to look instead at the debt-to-GDP ratio which has actually declined in recent years, albeit imperceptibly. Duterte’s economic managers take this to mean we’re not in dire straits just yet.

But make no mistake: debt is picking up. Figure 3 shows that as of April 2020 total debt grew at 10.5% — more than 5 times than when Duterte came into office. 

Figure 3.

On top of the new foreign borrowings, government also received in March a whopping P300 billion from the Bangko Sentral ng Pilipinas (BSP) through a so-called repurchase agreement. Government also regularly earns billions in the sale of government securities.

So clearly, despite tough times, the Duterte government isn’t exactly empty-handed. 

Stimulus galore

But these new funds may not be enough given the many demands of the pandemic. On top of the current budgets, Congress is also proposing a number of bills that could further strain the public coffers. 

Rep. Stella Quimbo of Marikina City and other lawmakers are pushing for a P1.3 trillion economic rescue package called ARISE Philippines (Accelerated Recovery and Investments Stimulus for the Economy of the Philippines). This comprises wage subsidies, zero-interest loans for MSMEs, among others. 

Other lawmakers are pushing for a separate P1.5 trillion stimulus package called CURES (COVID-19 Unemployment Reduction Economic Stimulus), focusing more on infrastructure spending in the next 3 years. 

Oddly, Duterte’s economic managers seem to be scrimping.

For instance, Acting Socioeconomic Planning Sec. Karl Chua pushed back against ARISE — and the supplementary budget it will require — saying it’s “not fundable” absent new taxes (and unless the new loans can be legally considered as new revenues). He and other members of the economic team are also wary of a runaway deficit for the rest of 2020.

But now is not the time to be overly worried of deficits. Government must pull out all stops and spend quickly on whatever we need to survive this pandemic — even if it means a swelling deficit.

This, in fact, is an argument for government to borrow even more aggressively. And as the economic managers themselves keep touting, we have enough fiscal space. In short, we can afford more new loans. What better time to use that fiscal space than now?

Botched pandemic response

Sure, government can adopt a supplementary budget and finance that with even more loans.

But can Duterte and his minions spend the money effectively? Several red flags suggest they cannot. 

Nearly 100 days since the first lockdown of Metro Manila in mid-March — and despite the putative “special powers” bestowed by the Bayanihan Act — the Duterte government still has not flattened the curve, not met its testing targets, not hired enough contact tracers, not cleaned up its COVID-19 data, not released the second tranche of emergency aid on time, not looked after furloughed and laid-off workers enough (with some of his officials flatly denying the veracity of the official unemployment figures), not sufficiently looked after the welfare of OFWs and stranded individuals (leading to the unfortunate death of Michelle Silvertino), not come up with a sensible, realistic plan for the reopening of classes (insisting on distributing transistor radios), not provided enough transport options with Metro Manila’s reopening, not set up enough bike lanes along EDSA and other parts of Metro Manila — to name only a few aspects of Duterte’s botched pandemic response.

Instead, the economic managers seem singularly bent on pursuing policies — such as CREATE (corporate tax cuts) and Build, Build, Build (big-ticket infrastructure) — that are not particularly needed at this time and will likely crowd out other important programs, notably Test, Trace, and Treat. (READ: Test, Trace, Treat (not Build, Build, Build))

On Tuesday, June 16, the Department of Finance secured a new P75.5 billion loan to build road projects in Davao and Cebu. Borrowing billions for road projects in the middle of a pandemic? Really?

Government also seems much more interested in enacting the tyrannical Anti-Terrorism Act of 2020 (“worse than martial law”), as well as stifling press freedom what with the swift conviction of Maria Ressa and Rey Santos Jr in a trumped-up cyber libel case.

Filipinos deserve a leader who can coordinate the many aspects of the pandemic response following a comprehensive, coherent, well-studied plan. Months into the pandemic, we’re still waiting for that.

Duterte’s keeps saying “walang pera” (there’s no money). But the bigger problem is that “walang namumuno” (there’s no leader). – Rappler.com

The author is a PhD candidate and teaching fellow at the UP School of Economics. His views are independent of the views of his affiliations. Thanks to Zy-za Suzara and Luis Abad for helpful comments. Follow JC on Twitter (@jcpunongbayan) and Usapang Econ (usapangecon.com). 

MANILA, Philippines – June is Pride Month, and in honor of the country's LGBTQ+ community, Rappler called for artworks that answer the question, "How would you capture Pride in a drawing?"

Our top pick is this illustration entitled "No age limit for acceptance" by Aaliyah Y.

"I did this piece because a lot of my fellow LGBTQ+ have been struggling to come out, because they're scared that their parents might not be supportive of them. This drawing is my dream for the future generation, where everyone is given support and love regardless of who they could be," Aaliyah shares. 

You can catch Aaliyah on Twitter here. – Rappler.com 

The libel conviction of Rappler CEO and Executive Editor Maria Ressa and reporter Reynaldo Santos Jr. is only the latest of recent repressive measures undertaken in quick succession by a regime led by a President predisposed to dictatorship.

These measures could not have come in the time of coronavirus by coincidence: the pandemic lays itself open to official exploitation for the fear and the hunger and joblessness and the other distractions it has brought; the government could also use some covering up for its shortcomings in dealing with the emergency — shortcomings like: 

One, the all-too-predictable confusion over which community to put under what category of quarantine – GCQ, MECQ, or MGCQ – whose strictness is differentiated in degrees from each other in various aspects of life — work, school, social gatherings, travel (never mind what those initials stand for — it offers little aid to clarity); (READ: [OPINION] WNTTAA: We need to talk about acronyms, the snag in PH's virus response)

Two, the cash and food aid that has failed to reach many of its beneficiaries; 

Three, the disorganization admitted by the health secretary himself and plainly evidenced by the counts of afflicted, dead, and recovered that don’t add up and are therefore constantly revised; 

Four, the dismal lack of testing for infection; and 

Five, the responsibility that lies with the newly retired military generals whom President Duterte, in a continuing process of militarizing the civilian government, has appointed to lead the task force against the pandemic. 

Ressa’s and Santos’s conviction was preceded by two other dire events, which cannot but be related to it and each other; all 3 have happened in the last two months and targeted individuals and organizations that constitute an institutional watchdog on government.

The earliest of the 3 was the arbitrary revocation of the broadcast franchise of ABS-CBN, the country’s largest and widest-reaching network. ABS-CBN had been operating on an expired franchise through no fault of its own — Congress had been tardy in acting on the network’s request for franchise renewal. But the National Telecommunications Commission (NTC) hijacked the congressional authority over franchises and closed ABS-CBN. (READ: [OPINION | Newspoint] Martial law by any other name)

Congress could have sorted the anomaly by simply renewing the franchise, but it did not. Not only did it not reprimand NTC, it began its long-overdue hearings without allowing ABS-CBN to reopen. Moreover, it treated ABS-CBN’s application as one for a new franchise, not a mere renewal, which should be granted as a matter of course, for a denial would constitute an abridgment of the press freedom the franchisee had been exercising as a news media company.

Its scope thus expanded, the franchise inquiry gave ABS-CBN’s detractors in Congress large room for filibuster and other tricks of harassment. At the rate it’s going, it may never end. There’s no surer place for dragging out or shooting down anything as Duterte pleases — he commands a ridiculous majority there. He also happens to detest ABS-CBN so much he has publicly and repeatedly warned he would close it down.

For all its preoccupations — the pandemic, which requires it to pass measures providing for emergency outlays and ensuring accountability for them, and the slow-moving, deliberately complicated ABS-CBN case — Congress found the time to pass an anti-terrorism bill; it now awaits the President’s signature.

Evidently, the bill was intended to be railroaded past the nation’s notice, or else invitations to any proper hearings on it would have been sent out or heard about. To be sure, putting the bill together and passing it did not require serious time.

Not surprisingly, the bill leaves terrorism undefined; an Anti-Terrorism Council exclusively comprising presidential appointees is supposed to draw up the nitty-gritty of it and preside over the implementation of the law. In any case, whatever terrorism is made out to be, any person who “shall threaten to commit” it or “support” it or “incite” to it or merely “proposes to commit” it would be in trouble; he could be arrested without a warrant from a court and become a candidate for a jail term of 12 years.

At around the time the bill was passed, Ressa and Santos were convicted of charges brought to court past the period of prescription and under a law enacted after the publication of the report in question. Ressa faces 7 other suits — on tax, securities, and citizenship issues.

Once the anti-terrorism law goes into effect, she may be liable under it too. As Ressa would say, for the Duterte regime it’s all a matter of “legal acrobatics.” – Rappler.com

Malacañang recently mourned the death of tycoon Danding Cojuangco. Cabinet Secretary Karlo Nograles described him as “a larger-than-life figure whose colorful life shaped the course of our history,” while Communications Secretary Martin Andanar regarded him as “a patriarch...a philanthropist to the people and a reliable partner of the government...”

As a student of history, I find these eulogies appalling. Of course, no one can deny Cojuangco's business and political acumen. After all, he did survive and thrive after the revolution that ousted his master, dictator Ferdinand Marcos. (READ: Malacañang hails late Danding Cojuangco's 'immense contribution' to economy)

But who is Danding Cojuangco? What lessons can we learn from the course of our history, which he helped shape with the people of his time?

Aside from being known as chairman and CEO of beer maker San Miguel Corporation, Danding was also known as a “kingmaker,” using the power of his purse and position as chair of the National People’s Coalition (NPC) to support former presidents like ousted president Erap Estrada and his successor, former president and incumbent Congresswoman Gloria Macapagal-Arroyo. 

Earlier, Danding was part of the infamous “Rolex 12,” Marcos' cabal of wealthy and powerful men who orchestrated and enforced Martial Law. As one of Marcos’ closest cronies, he amassed great wealth by taking advantage of the Coco Levy Fund, which was made up of taxes paid by ordinary farmers. With the backing of Marcos, he eventually bought San Miguel Corporation using this money. But despite these crimes, like notorious General Fabian Ver, he never went to jail. (READ: Kingmaker: Danding Cojuangco's presidential bid and the ghost of coco levy)

Danding Cojuangco, together with the other architects, henchmen, and butchers of Martial Law, was politically accommodated, reintegrated, and allowed to partake in one way or another, in the restored democracy of the Philippines, like the late dictator’s wife Imelda Marcos and her children. Singapore founder and first Prime Minister Lee Kwan Yew even said, “Only in the Philippines could a leader like Ferdinand Marcos, who pillaged his country for over 20 years, still be considered for a national burial. Insignificant amounts of the loot have been recovered, yet his wife and children were allowed to return and engage in politics.”

Indeed onli in da Pilipins can one find such consistent betrayals by their own countrymen, first in 1898 and then in 1986. From EDSA 1986's onset, the democracy that it sought to restore was already compromised and corrupted, delivered already to the hands of the pollical and economic elite. 

The elite still act as feudal lords through political dynasties, and even serve as legislators in Congress. And it is our young generation that has to pay dearly and bear the consequences of this corruption, from combatting massive historical revisionism, to standing up to another authoritarian figure – who was the byproduct of the discontent and frustration of the masses over the post-EDSA republic.

Those who had debts to justice, like Danding Cojuangco, never paid their dues. Former Marcos minister, defector, and Senate President Juan Ponce Enrile, who himself admitted that he orchestrated his ambush to justify the declaration of Martial Law, is now an out-and-proud Marcos ally once again. His tactical maneuver of defecting from the dying dictator to the anti-Marcos forces together with the disgruntled youngsters of the AFP has led to dire consequences for human rights groups, activists, and progressive groups today.

During Martial Law, the personnel of the AFP, together with the Philippine Constabulary (today’s Philippine National Police), operated the machinery of death and butchered many students, workers, journalists, activists, and members of the political opposition. Using the Communist threat and the Anti-Sedition Law, they enforced countless disappearances, acts of torture, and massacres. And they have been institutionally absolved of all these crimes and are today on a massive red-tagging spree of progressive groups, activists, journalists, human rights defenders, and political dissenters.

This is the course of history shaped by the likes of Danding Cojuangco, one that is filled with corruption  and compromises that prevent the just and effective persecution of criminals like Imelda Marcos. (READ: Danding builds an empire)

But thanks to the death of Cojuangco, we are once again given the chance for critical reflection.

To say "never forget" means to be mindful of all the tragedies, terrors, and triumphs of our people during Martial Law, and to say "never again" means to look out for the patterns and pitfalls that lead to an authoritarian regime, and to prevent the corruption and compromises that led to our dwindled democracy and the rule of pathological personalities, who've create their own brand of oligarchy under a new talking head. – Rappler.com

Dom Balmes is a member of Dakila: Philippine Collective for Modern Heroism and #WeTheFuturePH, a non-partisan national movement of Filipino youth standing up for rights, freedom, and democracy.

The underlining thesis statement of Christianity is love. The worn-out rhetoric of religion has cemented its place across cultures as a call to love, a call to forgive, and a call to respect. In the Philippines, Catholicism envelopes our society, blanketing our politics and everyday life with the constant ringing of God. We cannot move without His followers hovering over our shoulders, providing moral codes and belief systems to which we can attune ourselves. However, a consequence of religion is the man-made machinery through which we are silenced. (READ: [OPINION] Should Christians protest?)

Stitched in the very fabric of Christianity is passivity. We mistake our silence for peace and activism as disruption. The version of love that we have weathered is one that sets our radicalism into stasis. We overrule progress to preserve tradition and in doing so, have isolated entire populations from understanding God, and Jesus who was an activist Himself. 

More religious people than I would call this year a reckoning. A plague of Biblical scale, as if we are all new Moseses awaiting our Exodus. The natural progression of current events, from social movements across the United States to our own political instability, makes one almost feel helpless. In the Philippines, the unfolding of the COVID-19 pandemic has further harmed our most vulnerable sectors and heightened the need for proper social and economic safeguards.

Groups from the private sector have been moved into action through donation drives and initiatives. The secular term for this is civic engagement. In Christianity, we may liken this to charity or helping one’s neighbor. But is charity enough?

Calling your aid “charity” posits a hierarchy between you and the ones you choose to help. Charity positions the organizers at a place of superiority, despite how pure one’s intentions are. Catholicism calls this mission as every good Catholic’s duty. We must feed the hungry, give drink to the thirsty, shelter the homeless, visit the sick – the list goes on. But is it not the most Christian thing to advocate for a love so radical, it dismantles broken systems that situate the vulnerable at a level of poverty beyond redemption? Is it not the most Christian thing to heed to Jesus’ call of activism and nurture our rage with a love that emboldens us to hold abuse to account? (READ: [OPINION] Christians can do more than protest)

In the endless retellings of Jesus’ story as a figure who is both completely human and completely God –it is not difficult to imagine how He would respond to our social unrest. He would not even stop at calling it social unrest, He would be marching at every protest and every rally. He would hold placards up, fearless, advocating for the minorities being attacked. This is love too. 

God knew that in order to understand the entirety of human experience, His son would have to completely live the experience of the poor, the oppressed, and the vulnerable. It would have made more sense, narratively speaking, that God’s son would have been born a prince, adorned with earthly riches, or play the role as one of the Three Kings rather than the baby in the manger. But of course, God knows all. 

Christianity, as an agent of conservatism, has propagated the belief that silence in the name of diplomacy is the more attractive, more palatable version of peace. We are lulled into a comfortable stagnation through this process. Our culture has fostered this passivity, valuing an appeased community over the loud, unattractive demand for change. Activism here is seen as an ugly, violent thing. It disturbs the peace, but does not disturb our collective psyche enough to lead to a concrete revamping of our systems. 

We have swallowed the realities of our impoverished country as normal, almost inevitable. Even in the pursuit of a “new normal,” we have only widened the gaps between our sectors, systematically barring the poor from amassing the economic, social, and cultural capital necessary to mobilize through society. Perhaps as a Christian, the evolution of a new normal also poses a challenge for us to take our works of mercy further and reorient them as work towards holistic social development. And maybe this can begin with simply taking a different stand, despite an upbringing that teaches you otherwise. Engaging in these difficult conversations with our family, friends, and especially our enemies. Utilizing one’s resources to organize and regroup within our local communities. Amplifying the stories of the sectors we seek to help, understanding them as people and not simply as statistics. Just as Jesus would. 

If our shared histories have taught us anything, it is that paralyzing fear only fosters faith. Courage, hope, and love are overlooked as clichés to cling onto. But as the world has taught us before and God continues to remind us, even faith as small as a mustard seed moves mountains. Imagine the world we could reinvent together. – Rappler.com

Sofia Guanzon is an aspiring writer (among other things), but for now, she's a student preoccupied with learning how to put her idealism to practice. 

We are good English speakers, and it is true that we have used this in a lot of aspects that helped our country globalize. But we tend to think we are the crème de la crème of Southeast Asia mainly because of our high proficiency in this foreign language. However, this skill that we have mastered after nearly a hundred years only proves that the Philippines lacks nationalistic ideals and had failed to promote its own language to its very own citizens. (READ: [OPINION] How our native languages benefit society)

We are known by foreigners to be a hospitable country, not because this is a characteristic intrinsic to us, but because Westerners instigated supremacy, which in turn made us easily conform to the wants and ideas of their nations.

In 1959, Renato Constantino wrote a piece entitled "The Miseducation of the Filipinos." In it, Constantino described the effects of the colonial public education brought by the Americans to our country. In the middle of reading the article, it made me ponder on how deeply American values are embedded in our minds and in our accepted social behaviors. I was certain that my very own mind was still conquered by the Americans even if they are not physically here. I'm even writing this article in American English.

Filipinos developed an inferiority complex in relation to their former colonizers. Despite the fact that we are a sovereign nation, the Filipino mind remains to be the mind of a little brown American. When Filipinos think about Christmas, they think of Santa Claus, snow, or Christmas trees, even though none of these exist or originated in our country. When offered a chance to migrate to the United States, not a single Filipino would think twice to get that green card. And language? We tend to bow down to anyone who speaks and writes fluently in English. We associate the use of the language with being knowledgeable, and those who are not fluent are usually considered uneducated.

The Philippine education system is comprised of subjects that use the English language. It was woven into our system and consequently, into the minds of our students. Additionally, parents now prefer to raise their children with English as their mother tongue. Why? Because it is seen as something that only the few can have. The English language has become part of the identity of a social class. A lot of Filipino families today try hard to enroll their children in private, English-speaking schools no matter how low their income is. The majority of private institutions persist as English-speaking campuses, amplifying the exclusivity of the English language in the country. (READ: [OPINION] It's time to change how Filipinos see the national language)

Why are we where we are today? In World War II, Japanese soldiers used fear and brutality to try to control Filipinos, raping hundreds of Filipina women, killing thousands of Filipino soldiers, and making more than 60,000 war prisoners walk ungodly lengths in the Bataan Death March. Filipinos developed hate and resentment toward the Japanese. Almost the same happened with the Spaniards.

Americans, on the other hand, were seen as our friends, our big brothers. They transported around 600 teachers and soldiers to teach Filipinos and develop public schools in our country. When the Americans departed, we were left with a generation of Filipinos who were proficient in English. Indeed, we should be grateful for the education and help that the Americans brought us, but what they also did was subtle military strategy. For them, the best way to capture people was not through capturing their physicality, their army, or their government. It is through capturing their minds. 

These days, we still glorify the English language and consider our own as the poor man’s tongue. Laws, bills, ordinances, resolutions, memorandums, and executive orders are all written in the English language. This method of policy-writing makes it tough for Filipinos who have not attained higher education to understand the very laws that are made for them. Worse, a lot of Filipinos continue to be deprived of basic education especially in rural areas of our country. There is a Latin phrase usually used for this: ignorantia juris non excusat (ignorance of the law excuses no one). But we have to ask ourselves, are the basic laws understandable for majority of Filipinos?

We were conquered by the Americans more than a century ago. Constantino's article was written more than 60 years ago. But why does it feel like it was written yesterday? Why do the effects of colonial education still linger in our society? We celebrated the 122nd declaration of Philippine Independence last week, yet how free are we really? 

Removing English from our educational system might be a tremendously radical idea, but it might be one of the solutions to cure the nonexistent nationalism of Filipinos. – Rappler.com

Vince Bernardo is an upcoming political science student who spent his high school days as a student journalist. He was also the head of their school's student government and continues to serve the country by volunteering and fighting for social justice.

Huwag kayong magulat na makukulong si Maria Ressa at Rey Santos Jr.  

And sinapit ni Ressa, isang respetadong mamamahayag at Time Person of the Year noong 2019, at ni Santos, isang mananaliksik at manunulat, ay halos itinadhana. 

Understatement na sabihing galit ang gobyernong Duterte sa Rappler. Andiyan ang pursigidong pag-atake sa start-up na online news site, kung saan si Ressa ay CEO, at si Santos ay dating empleyado. Noong Pebrero 2018 pa lang, pinatalsik na ang Rappler reporter na si Pia Ranada sa Malacañang. Noong 2018 rin, inulan ng 11 kaso ang Rappler – mga kasong dinisenyong pilayin ang negosyo at sirain ang kredibilidad nito. 

'Weaponized' na batas

Malinaw na ang pulitka ng bengansya ni Digong at ng kanyang mga alipores sa loob ng 4 na taon. Nauna na si Senadora Leila de Lima, na magta-tatlong taon nang nakakulong. Andiyan si Maria Lourdes Sereno na dumanas ng pinakamasakit na panlilibak: binura ang ngalan niya mula sa talaan ng Korte Suprema na parang hindi naganap ang anim na taon niyang panunungkulan. Tinawag itong "legal abomination" ng isang huwes ng SC.

Ang tama ay mali at ang mali ay tama. Habang maraming nakakikilatis ng katotohonan sa panunugis kay Ressa, Santos, at Rappler, maraming nalinlang ng makamandag na dila ng ulupong.

Libel daw ang artikulong walang malisya at layon lamang ipakita ang mga nagbibigkis sa pinatalsik na Supreme Court chief justice na si Renato Corona at mga makapangyarihang tao. Hindi daw public figure si Wilfredo Keng na isa lang naman sa namamayagpag na negosyante sa panahon ni Duterte.  

Hinimay ng huwes na si Rainelda Montesa ang umano'y pagiging libelous ng istorya, pero nilaktawan niya ang mas pundamental na usapin: may kaso ba batay sa mga umiiral na batas? (Emphasis sa mga salitang “umiiral na batas.”)

Dahil ang kasong cyber libel laban kay Ressa at Santos ay isang “house of cards” na dinikit ng laway.

Dalawa sa haligi ng duling na hustisya na itinaguyod ng kampong Keng at ng Department of Justice ay ang mga ito: Ang “republication” at ang 12-taong prescription period para sa libel.

Punyal sa puso ng online

Ayon sa abugadong si Romel Bagares, isa sa mga nagpetisyon laban sa cybercrime law noong 2012, gagawing bulnerable ng konsepto ng “republication” ang lahat ng lumang mga artikulo at kuro-kuro kapag ito’y na-digitize.

Yayanigin ng baluktot na teorya ng “republication” ang lahat ng online news sites sa Pilipinas. Ngayon, nakabitin na ang punyal sa kanilang dibdib. 

Wala pang cybercrime law noong inilathala ng Rappler ang artikulong inirereklamo ng negosyante. Pero dahil sa may winastong typographical error sa artikulo, viola, parang magic ay itinuring ito ng DOJ na bagong artikulo.

Wala nang lumang artikulong hindi puwedeng halungkatin. Magpipiyesta na ang mga inexpose ng mga pahayagan. Delikado na ang lahat sa mga balat sibuyas na opisyal, alagad ng batas, at appointee ni Duterte. Pati na rin mga halang ang sikmurang negosyante, may kanyon na laban sa mga mamamahayag. 

Nitong nakaraang linggo, tinanong si Maria Ressa sa panayam kung ito ay may “chilling effect.” Ang sagot niya, “Forget chilling – this is Siberia.” Para sa lumaki sa tropical countries, ang Siberia ang katumbas ng “Winter is coming” ng Game of Thrones. Sa totoo lang, “Winter is here.” 

'Overriding issue'

Ayon kay dating Supreme Court associate justice na si Antonio Carpio, ang “overriding issue” ay “prescription." Bakit? 

Dahil ang prescription ng cyber libel ay nananatiling isang taon at hindi 12 taon. Ayon kay Carpio, nilabag ng posisyon na ito ng DOJ at ni Montesa ang Konstitusyon.

Para kay Carpio, mas pangunahin ang isyu ng prescription kaysa mga “factual” na argumento sa kaso. Bago husgahan ang malisya, dapat sinagot muna ang tanong: may kaso ba? Wala, dahil ang tamang interpretasyon ay isang taon lamang ang prescription period.

 Nang nagdesisyon ang Korte Suprema kung alinsunod sa Konstitusyon ang cyber libel noong 2014, sinabi nitong, "Cyber libel is actually not a new crime since Article 353, in relation to Article 355 of the penal code, already punishes it."

Papaano mamatay ang demokrasya?

Tinawag ni Ressa ang nangyayaring weaponization ng batas laban sa mga kritiko nito na “legal acrobatics.“  

Bihasa talaga sa patumbling-tumbling ang administrasyong ito. Bago makaalis sa puwesto si Ginoong Duterte (at kung aalis siya sa puwesto), hindi na natin makikila ang demokrasyang ipamamana niya. Bugbog-sarado at naghihingalo na ito.

Hindi lang mga kalayaan sa pamamahayag ang yinuyurakan ngayon. Sa ilalim ng tinaguriang “terror bill” na pirma na lang ni Duterte ang kailangan – madaling makulong, madaling mabansagang terorista, madaling matortyur. Ngayong pandemic, madaling mabaril, mapatay, at makulong. Sa tindi ng kamandag ng mga batas na ito, aminado mismo ang interior department na hindi na kailangan ng batas militar.

Bakit pupuntiryahin ng isang democratically-elected President ang media? Dahil balakid ang free speech sa agenda nito na busalan ang mga kritiko, at malayang baluktutin ang katotohanan. Dahil balakid ang free media sa pagtatampisaw sa kapangyarihan. 

Kung noon ay may anay ang sistema, ngayo'y mistulang wrecking ball na ang mga batas tulad ng cyber libel (na pamana ni Presidente Noynoy Aquino) at ang nakaambang anti-terrorism law.

Sabi ni Sheila Coronel, ang director ng Stabile Center for Investigative Journalism ng Columbia University, ganito mamatay ang demokrasya: sa loob ng isang bulwagang panghukuman, sa harap ng isang hukom na nagko-quote kay Mandela. Wala raw kudeta sa kalagitnaan ng gabi, walang tangke sa mga lansangan, at walang takeover ng mga istasyon ng telebisyon. 

Sabi ni Coronel, ang tanging maririnig ay ang tuloy-tuloy na patak ng gripong kumakalawang sa demokrasya at kumukurap sa mga institusyon – ang “drip, drip, drip” daw ay ang mga duwag na kompromiso ng mga korte at kongreso.

Matagal nang sinimulan ang giyera laban sa mga matitino at matatapang na journalist – si Duterte mismo ang unang kumalabit ng gatilyo nang sinabi niyang “hindi exempted sa asasinasyon” ang mga peryodista, komentarista sa radyo, at mamamahayag.

Sabi ng Rappler, dadalhin nito sa Court of Appeals ang kasong ito. "Kung kinakailangan, pararatingin namin sa Korte Suprema. Pananagutan namin – natin – ito sa bayan.” 

Babalikan namin ang walang 'sing angkop na mga kataga ni Dylan Thomas sa Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night: "Rage, rage against the dying of the light."

Hindi kami kukurap, hindi kami yuyuko, hindi kami magtatago. We will hold the line. #CourageOn – Rappler.com

How does the bureaucracy respond to a crisis? Are bureaucrats required to be always transparent with information in dealing with the public? 

These questions come into focus in light of the resignation of Dr Tony Leachon, a consultant for the government’s COVID-19 response team. Leachon criticized the Duterte administration's approach to fighting the coronavirus. (WATCH: Rappler Talk: Dr Tony Leachon on PH’s handling of COVID-19 pandemic)

Leachon argued that telling the truth, and being transparent and straightforward are important in times of crisis. 

But General Carlito Galvez, COVID-19 National Task Force head, wanted criticisms be done internally. Presidential Spokesperson Harry Roque chimed in to say it’s the President who wants Leachon out. (READ: Tony Leachon miffed Duterte himself)

In modern public administration, we have several theories to explain how bureaucracies behave and respond. The theories of bureaucratic politics seek to explain how bureaucrats define and justify their actions. 

In Graham Allison’s (1971) book Paradigm of Bureaucratic Politics (Essence of Decision), there are 3 dominant paradigms in decision-making: a rational actor, organizational process, and bureaucratic negotiations. 

When governments decide based on the paradigm of a rational actor, its main motivation is self-interest. Bureaucrats can also further the interests of others to serve their own self-interest. 

In rational choice theory, decisions can be understood by viewing them as the product of a single actor in pursuit of his own self-interest that drives decisions and actions. When a problem occurs, the government will identify the potential responses to such problem, assess the consequences of the responses, and choose the action that maximizes the benefits and minimizes costs. 

After 3 months of lockdown, the President (self-interested actor) responded with a more or less functioning infrastructure and seemingly coherent plan at an appropriate scale of intervention. 

But the absence of leadership shows that the motivation to decisively tackle the crisis was lacking. The President was first dismissive of the threat and dismissed critics as just wanting to spread fear. Weekly, late night announcements showed him rambling, at times confused, petty, and overbearing. 

When the first case of COVID-19 was recorded a month before the lockdown, this should have signaled government to impose travel restrictions and mitigating measures. However, the DOH waited for the first case of local transmission to happen. The indecisiveness of the DOH was responsible for the failure to contain the spread of the virus. 

In the organizational process paradigm, numerous actors are involved in decision-making. The decision-making is highly structured through standard operating procedures. In contrast to a rational actor paradigm, the government relies on organizational routines instead of a rational cost-benefit calculus in deciding its course of action. 

Mass testing was based on established international epidemiological protocols. The IATF guidelines for the various degrees of community quarantines came from decisions of a collegial body. It should not be subject to political bargaining.  

In the bureaucratic politics paradigm, the bureaucracy is composed of different organizations and individuals with divergent objectives and agenda. What the "whole-of-government" decides to do is the outcome of bargaining and compromise – product of a political process. 

The extent and scope of the community quarantine or a lockdown was obviously a "political resultant" that took into account several dilemmas – from saving lives vs saving jobs, health of citizens vs the health of the economy,to data privacy vs public health emergency.

But once an action is decided upon, the task of implementing that decision is handed over to others who must also make decisions about specific actions to take.   

Under our disaster management laws, the DILG together with the LGUs, are the "first responders" in disaster preparedness. The DILG for its part came up with guidelines for addressing COVID-19 by LGUs as early as February 6, 2020. However, it was only on April 16, more than two months after the first COVID-19 case was reported, that the IATF ordered the DILG, PNP, and LGUs to organize contact tracing teams.

The DILG’s tiff with some LGUs implementing the ECQ became a source of conflict. Pasig City mayor Vico Sotto and other mayors were cited in contempt of the national government for interpreting the guidelines according to how they saw fit.

But LGUs exercise a degree of fiscal and administrative autonomy. In agency theory, the LGU is the agent, as their constituents are their principal and not the DILG. 

In James Wilson’s (1989) Bureaucracy: What Government Agencies Do and Why They Do It, he puts forward two key organizational dimensions to bureaucratic politics theory: 1) behavior of bureaucrats and 2) the institutional structure and the distribution of power. 

Behavior looks at why bureaucrats and bureaucracies do what they do. The day-to-day situation bureaucrats must respond to is shaped by peer expectations, professional values, and ideology. When goals are vague, “going by the book” provides operators low-risk behavior. 

Public administration theory builds on the assumption of rational self-interest. It suggests that a set of behavioral biases was common to all bureaucracies – bureaucrat’s motivation to distort information to reflect favorably on their goals and themselves. 

Bureaucrats always favor policies fitting their self-interests and goals. Their reactions to directives depend upon how these serve their self-interests. The bureaucrat’s risk tolerance for responsibility is lower, but seeking power as a goal is higher. 

The issues of lack of sense of urgency, problems in COVID data management, and transparency in communication process in DOH, as stated by Dr Leachon, fall into this behavior of bureaucrats. If the goal is to flatten the curve, the information communicated should be towards that and not garnished confusion. 

There are different typologies of bureaucrats, according to Anthony Downs, an economist specializing in public policy and administration in his book An Economic Theory of Democracy.

They can be "conservers," "climbers," or "statespersons." Conservers are "maximizers" of security and convenience and likely to defend existing prerogatives and functions, oftentimes invoking the phrase “serving at the pleasure of the President” or appointing authority. 

In government, there are a lot of climbers who pursue responsibility blindly and aggressively. Such was shown in the case of a Malacañang official who wanted to probe the relief efforts of Vice President Robredo, and of a DILG Undersecretary announcing that human rights are suspended during the crisis. 

The lessons from Dr Leachon’s going against the bureaucracy show that government is working for its "self-interest" and deflecting public interest. (READ: Leachon's posts 'jeopardized' gov't messaging on pandemic – Galvez)

The announcement of the Ombudsman's investigation of irregularities in the DOH's COVID-19 response, from procurement of supplies, releasing of financial assistance to frontliners, and the confusing and delayed reporting of deaths and cases, could be a sign that government is responding to the public’s frustration.  

But it may be a way to let off steam for the public and not to address the problems Dr Leachon and most citizens see in the government’s response. 

Trust and reputation of public official are key factors for people to cooperate. In a public good setting, the first move is cooperation and not deflection. In a crisis, these values are intrinsic for effective communication on what people should expect and do. 

Networks and non-government organizations, business groups, and the medical community are indispensable actors that should be tapped by a networked bureaucracy in a crisis. But what we see is a military mindset and culture taking over a public health emergency. 

It is a top-down, "obey-first before you complain" protocol. Its response is a policy-based evidence approach analyzed in silos, and not evidence-based policy with the public’s lens integrated in analyzing the problem.     

Citizens expect clear guidance they can trust and services that address their needs, and for businesses, the policies on financial security to tide them over this crisis. They want leadership that stays the course, provides clear direction to a path forward, and a working environment that ensures their safety. 

What we have now is a disastrous response to a disaster that can’t be mitigated by a top bureaucracy that just serves their own purpose and no longer the public. – Rappler.com 

Tom Villarin is former congressman of Akbayan Party List in the 17th Congress. He authored the law Institutionalizing the 4Ps and the Safe Spaces Act, co-authored the Universal Health Care Law, Expanded Maternity Leave Law, Free Tertiary Education in Public Schools, and the vetoed Anti-Contractualization Law, among others.

While growing up in Tinambac, Camarines Sur, I would hear elders connect “primitiveness” and lack of social progress with the Agta group who visits our town to sell mountain products. This view is racist at its core and does not have a space in our contemporary society. However, this perspective continues to be part of our experiences, as almost all of us who were educated in the Philippine history curriculum learn about the waves of peoples arriving in the islands.

While it is archaeologically supported that the Agta (or Aeta) are one of the very first groups that populated the Philippines, our basic education history textbooks' narrative about them is denigrating. The deep history of the Philippines is more complex than what the Waves of Migration Theory (WMT) suggests; that there were “waves” of different groups of people with varying degrees of skin tones and social and technological sophistication. Unfortunately, this model was still covered in two textbooks as recently as 2010 (Kapaligirang Pilipino, Anda 2010; Pilipinas: Isang Sulyap at Pagyakap, Rama et al. 2006). An Araling Panlipunan (Social Studies) teacher that I spoke to also confirmed that WMT was part of the Grade 4 curriculum a few years ago but that current textbooks do not include this anymore. However, they add that they are not yet equipped to provide an appropriate narrative. (READ: [OPINION] I'm already a minority. Do I need to learn more about racism?)

The popular narrative of Philippine population origins speculates that the first group to inhabit the islands was the dark-skinned pygmies classified as the Negritos. They currently inhabit interior mountain ranges across the Philippine archipelago because, as postulated by the model, of their “inferior culture.” They were pushed to the mountains when a second group arrived, identified as the Indonesian A and B. The last group, the Malays, arrived in 3 succeeding waves, the last group appearing just before contact with Europeans. The last wave was eventually Islamized and Christianized. They settled in the lowlands, thereby pushing the Indonesians and the first two waves of Malays to the mountains. The first two waves of Malays were not converted to either Islam or Christianity. Inherent in this model is the progression of appearance of different groups of peoples, with each succeeding wave having lighter and lighter skin tones as the level of culture got “higher and higher.”

Alas, this perspective even broke into oral history. A Bicol story that I remember reading in a school lesson talks about a creator over-cooking or under-cooking humans, referring to dark- and fair-skinned populations. While this story props brown skin as the “perfect” recipe, it is certainly racially prejudiced. 

Anthropologists have argued for a long time that race is a social construct. It is not a biological reality. There are no human races; there is only one human race. The concept of race reinforces the colonial structures that favors Eurocentric views. For example, it justified conquest and colonialism through the view that non-Western peoples need to be civilized, articulated by the “White Man’s Burden” perception. In the Philippines this proceeded through the Benevolent Assimilation policy of the American colonial government. (READ: [OPINION] Dear white people in the Philippines)

Indeed, Philippine history is replete with these narratives; that there was a need to civilize and Christianize the “isolated” Philippine ethnolinguistic groups. Some scholars rationalize these narratives as a product of an era. Models, such as the Waves of Migration Theory and the Three Age System, developed by otherwise well-meaning people, were unwittingly racist and Eurocentric. This, however, does not excuse the models from its denigrating foundation. Franz Boas, considered as the Father of American Anthropology, crusaded against these types of model as early as the late 19th century until his death in 1942. 

In the Philippines, senior Filipino anthropologists appropriately responded to these models by highlighting the deterministic and diffusionist nature of the abovementioned paradigms. F. Landa Jocano, Ponciano Bennagen, Zeus Salazar, Prospero Covar, and E. Arsenio Manuel, to name a few, have all underscored the need to define history in our own terms. The diffusionist models that they are responding to imply that nothing new was ever developed or innovated in the Philippines. The models also propagate the idea that Filipinos peacefully move out of the way of newcomers. As such, Filipinos are described as just passive observers, waiting for someone from the outside to bring in new material and cultural innovations. Some historians even interpret these models as colonial strategies to indoctrinate Filipinos as peace-loving people who would avoid confrontation when a new group arrives.

In a separate essay, I advocated for a change in the Philippine history curriculum, one that highlights our indigenous history. It is one of the ways that we can move beyond the colonial mindset. We have to unlearn flawed dominant historical narratives. Doing so will also empower our past and inspire our future. – Rappler.com

Stephen Acabado is associate professor of anthropology at the University of California, Los Angeles. He is a Bicolano from Tinambac, Camarines Sur. His archaeological work revolves around indigenous responses to colonialism. He is a strong advocate of an engaged anthropology.

Ang saya naman kasi talaga. Biruin mo, makikita mo ang boy o girl version mo. Well, sige, ang level-up boy o girl version mo. Enhanced, makinis, fully made up, with soft and bouncy hair, mas maayos sa tunay na buhay. Mabilis, halos instant. Hindi na kailangan ng Photoshop surgery. Hindi mo kailangang maging skilled techie. Dahil kung hindi nga naman gumanda o naging guwapo ang hitsura mo, bakit pa? Naroon ang halina sa magandang hitsura. Tapos ise-share, magkakamit ng real-time reax.  

Tapos ilang ulit mong gagawin. Ano ba ang hitsura mo if ever na tumanda ka graciously? Wow, mala-Meryl Streep o George Clooney! Ano ang hitsura kung ibang larawan mo naman ang isasailalim sa express digital cosmetic facial surgery ng FaceApp? Ito kayang graduation photo mo? O itong nag-e-emo ka sa sunset noong pre-COVID-19 sa El Nido beach?

Dahil hindi naman ipinagbabawal ni hindi naman niya malalaman, magamit nga ang nakabuyangyang na larawan sa social media ng iyong kaibigang putik. Sabay attachment sa Messenger with matching scathing caption: “Suko ang FaceApp sa mukha mo, Bes.” Blocked pagkatapos. 

Marami kang retrato sa social media kung paanong marami ka rin kasing oras at maraming memory ang device para kumuha ng larawan at mag-upload; masarap na masahe ng kasiyahan sa pagod mong pagkatao ang mga instant heart o like reax sa instant retokado mong kara. At least, totoo ang mga reax na “haha.” Nakakatawa talaga. Ano ba naman ang masama sa paghahangad ng munting harmless na kasiyahan, di ba? Wala namang masasakripisyo at, kung mayroon man, malay mo ba kung ano? Malay mo ba kung matutuklasan mo pa?

Sabi nga ng isang ka-Facebook kong liyebo sitenta ang edad at retiradong kawani ng pamahalaan nang mag-warning ako sa social media noong isang araw hinggil sa proliferation ng FaceApp sa newsfeed ko, sa tanda raw ba naman niyang iyon, ano pa ang iingatang impormasyon? Ano bang isyu ng privacy kung hindi na naman daw niya malalaman kung paano ikakalakal ang kaniyang pribadong impormasyon? Besides, masaya siya. Walang magawa habang naka-quarantine ang gaya raw niyang senior senior citizen (yes, senior senior, that’s intentional, kung paanong meron ding upper middle class o short short story).

Hindi ko na iisa-isahin ang masamang dulot ng pagda-download ng maraming apps– masasaya at kuwelang apps usually – para sa iyong birtuwal na pag-iral, batay sa mga nagsaliksik hinggil dito. Laganap naman sa newsfeed at internet ang mga warning at tell-tale signs na sinasamantala ng developers ng apps noon pa ang iyong account. Walang libre, lalo sa birtuwal na mundo. May kapalit ang kasiyahan. Ang kapalit, madalas, hindi pera kung hindi ang iyong oras para sa mga advertisers at ang mga dapat sana’y pinakaiingat-ingatang detalye ng iyong buhay. Pero hangga’t wala tayong nababalitaang tahasang negatibong epekto sa pangangamkam ng ating sekreto at data breach kapalit ng ating kasiyahan, walang tigil ang pagtangkilik ng marami sa atin sa mga ganitong apps.   

Informed choice

Bahala pa rin kayo. Bakit ko kayo pipigilan kung d’yan kayo masaya? Ang sa akin lang, huwag magpapatangay lagi sa sayang dulot ng mga app. Maaaring hindi mo makitang ginamit na sa kabilang dulo ng birtuwal na mundo ang retrato mong maganda o guwapo bearing another name, like Slovo Mitolic or Milcza Stocailic, bearing made-up personality, and sold for some troll farm in the Balkans or in a Sub-Saharan fiefdom. Hindi mo na naman ito malalaman. Maliit ang tsansang may makakita at maghinala sa bilyon-bilyong social media account ba naman sa mundo.  

Wala makapipigil sa iyo sa mistulang libreng kasiyahan. Pero, just so you know, may risk ang isinasagawa mong pagsaaayos ng iyong mukha. I know, I know, ano ba sa social media ang wala? Noon pa naman naka-display ang birtuwal na pagkatao natin. Noon pa man, kilalang-kilala na tayo ng social media at ng search engine natin dahil sa pang-araw-araw nating ipini-feed ditong impormasyon: kung saan tayo pumunta (lalo noong pre-COVID-19 piso-fare flights epoch), kung ano-ano ang nasa consumerist wishlist natin, mga minimithing produkto, larawan ng kinain, relasyon, pakiramdam, masasayang tagpo ng buhay, at marami pang iba. Accumulation lahat ito ng ating birtuwal na pagkatao, dito tayo kinikilala ng mga mandaragit ng demographics at data. 

Naniniwala akong kahit anong warning ng mga eksperto na huwag mag-download o gumamit ng app – lalo kung hindi ka naman nagbabasa ng fine print ng policy at terms of use, dahil sino ba sa atin ang masinop na magbabasa muna at magsusuri bago i-click ang “I agree”? – hangga’t hindi inabuso ang data natin, hangga’t malayo sa ating bituka, hangga’t walang dear to us na nakompromiso ang kinabukasan sanhi ng isang masayang app, tuloy-tuloy ang paglipana at pagtangkilik sa mga app na ito.  

At least, may informed choice ka mula ngayon kung ngayon mo lang ito nalaman. Bago i-click ang “I agree,” isipin mo na gagamitin ka ng kompanya ng app – ikaw, ang birtuwal na pagkatao mo, ang mga impormasyong ipinaubaya na sa kanila – kapalit ng paggamit mo sa kanila. Iyan ngayon ang standard payment. Gusto mong maging masaya? Isuko mo ang iyong account. Magreklamo ka all you want, pero buhat nang i-click mo ang “I agree” sa Terms of Use, ibinenta mo na ang iyong datos. 

Tandaan mo rin sana, if by any chance, makikita mo ang iyong enhanced kara bearing, say, Slavic or Senegalese name at pagkatao, tandaan mong walang barangay na didinig ng iyong kaso. Mag-deactivate ka man ng iyong social media account, magsumbong ka man araw-araw sa Facebook na may paglabag sa iyong pagkatao, tandaan mong nasa kanilang vague justice system kung may paglabag nga bang nangyari o wala. Tandaan mo sanang nasa quarantine ang mundo ngayon, nagpapasabi na ang Facebook at iba pang social media na kulang sila ng taong haharap sa iyong kaso, karaniwan ay programadong bot ang tutugon sa iyo. 

Hindi ako magmamalinis. Baka nakompromiso na rin ako sa maraming downloaded na aplikasyon mula pa noon. Lately na lang naman ako nagbabasa ng minute details ng Terms of Use. Bagamat noon pa ako hindi mapagpatol sa mga app-app na ’yan. May imprint na rin ang social media at ang paborito kong search engine ng mga ipinasok kong detalye, mga hinanap, mga nais matuklasan. Maging ang online shop na pinag-uubusan ko ng oras at suweldo, alam na nila ang malaking tsansang makukursunadahan kong bilhin, based on my browsing algorithm, kaya tuloy-tuloy ang pag-suggest sa akin ng mga produkto at pages. May nalalaman pa silang kesyo “Customers who bought this item also bought <kasunod ang mga katakam-takam na larawan ng produkto>.” Tukso.  

Kaya huwag magtaka

Kaya ’yung mga nagreklamo ng clone account nila weeks ago, tapos nag-FaceApp naman nitong mga nagdaraang araw, mahirap nang patunayan ang “pretending to be you” clause sa paglabag ng FB Community Standards.

Puwede uli kayong magalit, magwala, at magreklamo, pero mga walang damdaming bot and AI-enabled apps na ang nag-iimbestiga kung may duplication nga ba o wala; kung ikaw nga ba ang nasa larawan o hindi; kung may paglabag ba sa community standards o wala. And it will, most of the time, “judge” in favor of technology and algorithm of certain facial features na sinadyang hindi makita ng programadong bot. Iiyak ka na lang. Kahit siguro ang mga Tulfo walang magagawa sa reklamo mo.

Marami pang lalabas na app na kagigiliwan ng marami para mag-ukol pa tayo ng mas maraming oras sa social media, lalo sa Facebook. Enjoy, pero mag-ingat. Mapraning nang kaunti. Kuwestiyunin ’nyo minsan kung bakit ang saya-saya lagi sa iyong mutyang birtuwal na mundo.

Paumanhin kung kailangan kong maging KJ paminsan-minsan. At least alam mo ang pinapasok mo. Huwag ka na lang munang magtaka kung ang enhanced picture mo ay nagngangalan nang Kwame Sovikzkaya Dakarai na isang construction foreman sa bansang Tanganyika o Zanzibar. – Rappler.com  

Bukod sa pagtuturo ng seminar in new media, pop culture, research, at creative writing sa Faculty of Arts and Letters, College of Education, at sa Graduate School ng University of Santo Tomas, research fellow din si Joselito D. Delos Reyes, PhD, sa UST Research Center for Culture, Arts and Humanities. Recipient siya ng 2020 Philippine Normal University Gawad Sulo for Eminent Alumni in the Field of Teacher Education. 

Rape happens not only because there are rapists. 

Rape happens when as a society we allow it to happen. How so? Way before the physical aggression takes place are the jokes and innuendos we hear among our relatives and friends. Too often women are on the receiving end.

And yet they get the blame for being raped.

Jokes and innuendos are not painful, at least physically. Most of the time they are meant to be funny. That is where their power lies. To laugh at something hard-hitting is to soften the blow.

This was exactly what the Lucban Municipal Police Station wanted to achieve on its Facebook page: “Kayo naman mga ghErlsz (sic), wag kayo magsuot ng pagkaikli-ikling damit at pag naman nabastos ay magsusumbong din sa amin. Isipin ‘nyo rin!” (READ: Police tell girls: Don't wear short clothes to prevent sex crimes)

It is uncertain if anyone laughed at it. But what is clear is that it blamed the potential victim. Of course, Ben Tulfo could not resist himself and celebrities thankfully put him in his place.

We know that blaming the victim is the immediate response. To lay the responsibility on the woman is a far easier exercise than to consider gender relations, patriarchy, and sexism. 

There’s only so much though that we can achieve with firefighting. We need to question where exactly the habit of blaming the victim comes from. 

We might wish to begin with our religious upbringing.

Woman’s worth

That women must be modest is a colonial import.

The impressive work of the historian Marya Svetlana Camacho is instructive. During the Spanish period, chroniclers described Tagalog and Visayan women as “lewd” and “unchaste” because of their “perceived sexual licentiousness.”

Boarding schools were set up where women were taught “purity, modesty, and seclusion.” 

The whole point was to prepare them to become homemakers. Virtue, in effect, defined a “woman’s worth."

Now that’s something.

The expectation that women today must practice modesty lest they become victims of rape builds on this religious socialization. 

Today, the Bible is still used around the world to shape believers’ attitudes towards sex (and gender identity). Biblical scholars Katie Edwards and Emma Nagouse argue that in the Bible, rape “functions as a conduit for male competition and a tool to uphold patriarchy.” Stories abound in which women are taught to protect their sexual purity because they are male property.

In congregations around the Philippines, women are enjoined to be submissive to their husbands. The Filipino translation is more forceful: magpasakop sa asawa (be conquered by their husband).

They are also instructed to dress properly as a sign of modesty. Women are taught too to be forgiving towards their erring husbands, without any regard for the reality of domestic violence and even marital rape. 

Also, I have encountered pastors who uncritically blame Eve, the woman, for the sin of Adam, the man.

To be sure, these sermons are not only concerned about rape. But at the very least, they constitute the dominant discourse that women are entities who need to either restrain themselves or be restrained.

Culture war?

If churches and their ministers are not judicious about how they deploy modesty as a spiritual virtue, they unwittingly place the burden on women. 

Asking women to be modest, after all, assumes that dressing properly and behaving as godly women would be enough to arrest rape and sexual harassment in households (and even churches). 

And yet the trap for religious ministers is to reduce everything to a culture war. Many pastors are convinced that the problem lies in the liberal (and “liberated”) virtues of self-expression. 

To them, these ideas are detrimental to the conservative principles espoused by what they believe to be the teachings of the Bible.

To consider the woman’s worth as a battlefield misses the whole point about rape and how it is ultimately about power, sexism, and control.

Fighting back

The reality of rape is undeniable. In 2019 alone, 2,162 rape cases were reported to the police, higher than the 1,656 in 2018. The figures do not include unreported incidents.

In the midst of the lockdown, reports suggest that abused women and children are more vulnerable. This is because during the quarantine, potential victims are forced to be with their abusers at home. Civil society organizations have thus expressed concern about the inability of victims to report incidents. (READ: To cross coronavirus border, prostituted women abused by cops first)

How do we even end all of this? Of course the answer is not only a theological matter.

At a time when even the president can get away with rape jokes, we know that the problem is far bigger.

But we can begin somewhere. Because the social environment enables rape, we need to question whenever women are asked to practice modesty — especially when it happens in our congregations. 

Women are not the enemy. Churches need to become spaces where they are empowered to fight back and say no to all forms of violence, chief of which is rape. – Rappler.com

Jayeel Cornelio, PhD is Associate Professor and the Director of the Development Studies Program at the Ateneo de Manila University. A sociologist of religion, he is a recipient of the 2017 Outstanding Young Scientist Award from the National Academy of Science and Technology. He is currently working on a monograph on religion and gender with Anjo Lorenzana and Robbin Dagle. Follow him on Twitter @jayeel_cornelio.

In the era of #BlackLivesMatter, Filipinos must reflect on the anti-black attitudes that circulate in their everyday life. In the Philippines today, public figures with dark skin are commonly ridiculed. Blackface is normalized in Philippine festivals such as the ati-atihan– a “tradition” that supposedly honors indigenous Aetas (this issue is itself complex and will need another essay). Dark-skinned actors often play comedic roles. African Americans with Filipino heritage are caricatured in teleseryes.

Filipinos carry with them these attitudes in the diaspora, often perceiving black people as dangerous, backward, and undesirable – echoing racialized hegemonic consciousness that favors fairness and whiteness. How come Filipino postcolonial sensitivities side with the white colonizers rather than with the formerly colonized (such as ourselves) and enslaved peoples? (READ: [OPINION] Black lives should matter to us too)

To answer the question above, I draw from my research among Filipino Americans in the US Navy, and discuss how the US military superstructure may have contributed to the formation of anti-black consciousness in the Philippines. Black and Filipino people crafted paths within the limited choices that were available to the historically enslaved and newly colonized. US imperial exploitation of the Philippines included labor resource extraction.

At the turn of the 20th century, the first Filipinos were recruited to join the US Navy as stewards – the racialized lowest rank, into which no white Americans were recruited. In 1970, American journalist Timothy Ingram called US naval ships “floating plantations” in reference to the historical organization around slave labor of agricultural production in the American South. However, such appropriation of the discourse of enslavement to refer to the experience of Filipinos on the US ships needs to be critically assessed to consider how the US imperial advance in the Pacific not only produced new oppressions, but also stirred anti-black sentiments among the newly colonized peoples, such as Filipinos.

Below, I raise 3 points related to Filipino participation in the US Navy that could be used to reflect on anti-black discourse. Black lives should matter to Filipinos. We need to confront our willful ignorance in perpetuating anti-blackness that denies humanity to fellow people of color. (READ: [OPINION] Witnessing #JunkTerrorBill alongside #BlackLivesMatter)

Rethinking solidarities with black people 

First, it is critical to point out that the segregated steward rank in the US Navy initially recruited predominantly black people. Historian John Darrell Sherwood writes that post-emancipation, steward rank wages were so low that they could attract only black people who were purposely left with very few viable occupation choices. In 1896, two years before US naval ships arrived in the Philippines, ships were officially made segregated (read more here). This shows us how empires have historically capitalized on racialized labor. Frantz Fanon reminds us, “It is the racist who creates his inferior.” 

Second, there is a need to reassess the projects for “self-improvement” that were crafted within the civilizing discourse of the American colonial period in the Philippines, and that influenced Filipino desires for success that fit within the needs of the US. Filipinos eventually carried these desires in the diaspora; in the US, these conveniently fit into the “model minority myth” that divides Asians and blacks in the US.

Former Justice of the Supreme Court of the Philippines FC Fisher said in 1927: “At the end of the 19th century, the Filipinos, as a whole, were woefully ignorant.... This, however, was due only to lack of opportunity.” Speaking nearly 3 decades after American arrival in the Philippines, Fisher evaluated the degree to which Filipinos benefited from the American policy of “benevolent assimilation.” According to Fisher, “The Filipinos have been quick to profit by the facilities for education made available to them under the new order.” The creation of these “opportunities for self-development” needs to be understood to consider the recruitment of colonized peoples as disciplined participants in a racialized order. On the ships, Filipinos worked alongside blacks who held comparable desires for uplifting themselves within the limitations framed by “the so-called dependency complex of colonized peoples,” which Frantz Fanon argues, “proceeds from the arrival of white colonizers.” 

Third, examining the relationships between different groups of people of color in the context of empire exposes the historical production of ambiguous attitudes of oppressed populations towards each other. Filipinos and black people in the Navy were pitted against each other in a system that was racist to both groups in the first place.

My interviews with Filipino-American US Navy retirees are telling of the ambiguous racial climate affecting those working together in the racialized steward rank. A Filipino-American retiree who served in the Navy after WWII told me, “When the Filipinos were colonized by the Americans, the Filipinos replaced the blacks.” Another retiree said that Filipinos took on the role of “jokers” who could navigate between blackness and whiteness. An informant talked about his confusion of figuring out if he should sit in the “whites only” or “colored” section of the bus. Their testimonies reveal the ambiguity of racism in the US as it applied to Filipinos, who felt a sense of proximity to whiteness cultivated in a colonial environment that was labeled benevolent to the US’ “little brown brothers.” (READ: Basagan ng Trip with Leloy Claudio: The relevance of #BlackLivesMatter to Filipinos)

As Fanon says in Black Skin, White Masks, colonized peoples become whiter as they renounce their blackness and “jungle status.” While Filipinos could occasionally deploy their proximity to whiteness, an informant testified that “The blacks were just discriminated outright.” This “outright discrimination” ties in with the US imperial project that created new forms of exclusion for black people. From 1919 to 1932, the enlistment of African Americans in the US Navy was halted as the recruitment of Filipinos intensified. Robert Emmett, head of enlisted training division, said in 1932 that Filipinos “are cleaner, more efficient, and eat much less” than the black crew.

It needs to be pointed out that the sentiments of black people towards Filipinos during the US colonial period were divided, as argued by Ingrid Dineen-Wimberly. For some blacks, US expansion in the Philippines opened a gateway for “upward mobility while they subverted domestic racism.” T. Thomas Fortune, a mixed-race and black-identified newspaper editor and prominent leader in the Afro-American business community who served as Special Agent to the Philippines from 1902 to 1903, saw potential for African Americans in the context of the US occupation. Fortune advocated for black emigration in the Philippines, arguing that African Americans would be able to supply the labor that was needed in the Philippines while pursuing liberty and happiness in the rich and fertile islands.

Meanwhile, Scot Ngozi-Brown argues that blacks found themselves conflicted about the “imported Jim Crowism” in the Philippines. There was also the case of David Fagen who defected and joined the early Filipino rebellion against the US. These examples of varied black sentiments expose the divide-and-conquer strategy of the colonizers – both at home in the US and in the overseas territories. On this, I recall philosopher WEB Du Bois’ remark about colonial expansion that divides “the darker world” for the benefit of empire. 

Anti-blackness and colonial baggage

Thus, Filipinos absorbed the discourses about the universal “savagery” of the colonized Other. Those discourses were used to describe us, and also shaped our perceptions about our own brownness/darkness, and thereon also instilled stereotypes about black people as another breed of “savages.” Filipinos soon started identifying more closely with white Americans even if, according to Ngozi-Brown, both Filipino and black crew members were called the N-word during the early years of American occupation of the Philippines. Filipino-American US Naval retirees recalled that their relations with white officers were often friendly. Conversely, a Navy retiree referred to black shipmates as “troublemakers” who would often use “discrimination as an excuse.”

However, African American navyman William Norman expressed concerns in 1970 about white officers’ adoration of Filipino stewards. That Filipinos were the favored “sacred cows” in the Navy, according to Williams, hampered real institutional reform towards racial equality. Given the context above, I leave readers with the question: what knowledge and tools do we deploy today in reshaping attitudes and building solidarities in the context of very heavy colonial baggage? – Rappler.com

Dada Docot is an assistant professor in the Department of Anthropology at Purdue University. She is an anthropologist of her hometown in Bicol, and of the Filipino diaspora. 

This essay is an extended version of the contributor’s presentation made on June 13, 2020 at the Filipinx for Black Lives Panel organized by FilAm Arts. 

The past weeks have seen an explosion in worldwide protest in support of the Black Lives Matter movement. A number of Duterte Drug War proponents have also expressed support, some even invoking the #BLM hashtag and George Floyd’s name to attack American and British personalities who criticized Maria Ressa’s conviction as an abuse of state power. These people are, at best, ignorant of the history and context of the Black Lives Matter movement or, at worst, opportunistically latching on to something they see as trendy while supporting policies diametrically opposed to and disrespectful of the movement’s values.

Black Lives Matter is not just about the murder of George Floyd. It is about the systemic oppression and violence against black people that is built into the core of American criminal justice and policing. Among the most effective tools this system has for oppressing and committing violence is the so-called “War on Drugs.”

The grandfather to the modern American drug war is Harry Anslinger, who used his position as commissioner of the Bureau of Narcotics to embark on a sensationalist campaign connecting drugs, mostly marijuana at the time, to racist fears about black and brown people and violent crime. Anslinger is famously quoted as saying, "Reefer makes darkies think they're as good as white men" and "There are 100,000 total marijuana smokers in the US, and most are Negroes, Hispanics, Filipinos, and entertainers.” He did not actually believe that drugs drove people to crime, but was more than happy to stoke racist fears about black and brown people, especially black and brown men in relation to white women, for his political gain.

Fast-forward to the late 1960s and Richard Nixon is elected president. Nixon’s domestic policy chief, John Erlichman, would later describe how criminalizing drugs was a political strategy to target the administration’s perceived enemies: the black movement and the anti-war left. “We could arrest their leaders, raid their homes, break up their meetings, and vilify them night after night on the evening news. Did we know we were lying about the drugs? Of course we did.” In 1971, Nixon declared a “War on Drugs,” accompanied by increases in the size and budgets of law enforcement and draconian “anti-crime” legislation that included no-knock raids and preventive detention for drug suspects. In addition, the 1970 Controlled Substances Act created a system for classifying drugs that has allowed political interests and racially-motivated hysteria to outweigh science.

A direct line can be drawn from the racist history of the US criminal justice system to the injustices that continue to be felt today, with the “War on Drugs” as one of its most insidious tools to systematically dehumanize and oppress black people. Black and white Americans use illegal drugs at similar rates, yet blacks are 6 times more likely to go to prison on drug charges. A recent analysis of California policing data shows that while black people comprise only 6.3% of the state’s population, they comprise 15.1% of all people stopped by police. Blacks were 3 times more likely to be searched by police than whites, even though searches of whites were more likely to yield drugs, weapons, or evidence. Michael Brown had his hands up in surrender when a police officer shot him 6 times. The officer assumed the 18-year-old was “on something,” a line later parroted by white supremacist pundits trying to justify the murder. Breonna Taylor was sleeping in her bed when officers executed a no-knock raid in search of a drug suspect and shot her 8 times. Trayvon Martin was killed by a vigilante who minutes before called local police to say "This guy looks like he is up to no good or he is on drugs or something." The 15-year old was walking home after buying a bag of Skittles and an iced tea.

A direct line can also be drawn from the destructive legacy of US drug policy to the Philippines today. In the late 1960s and early 1970s, then-president Ferdinand Marcos was desperate to be close to the Nixon regime and counted on the US president’s support for his plans to declare martial law and rule as dictator. Just 10 months after Nixon declared his “War on Drugs” and 5 months before the declaration of martial law in the Philippines, Marcos signed into law The Dangerous Drugs Act of 1972 which criminalized drug use and put in place mandatory sentencing minimums. According to the Dangerous Drug Board, this drastic, punitive approach was adopted despite there only being an estimated 20,000 drug users in the country at the time, mostly of marijuana. 

Nixon’s successors ramped up the War on Drugs and actively exported it to the rest of the world. President Ronald Reagan’s foreign policy was centered around fighting the dual “moral evils” of communism and drugs and his administration provided support to repressive governments, including the Marcos dictatorship, enacting prohibitionist policies and pursuing militarized strategies. Three months after the attacks of September 11th, President George W. Bush declared that the “War on Drugs” was a necessary component of the “Global War on Terror” and began transferring unprecedented amounts of national money to local police forces for military-grade equipment and training. It is worth noting that the U.S. began deploying hundreds of special forces to the Philippines for counterterrorism purposes in 2002, the same year that the Dangerous Drugs Act was overhauled. Despite every president since Nixon increasing resources for a punitive approach to drug policy, drugs are more widely trafficked than ever before. The US’s “War on Drugs” has utterly failed at controlling the potential dangers of narcotics, and has arguably worsened if not created them.

Duterte’s “War on Drugs” is a direct copycat of the racist American policy that was never actually meant to control drugs, but rather to control a part of the population, while at the same time allowing politicians to brag about being “tough on crime” as they fight a war they do not intend to win. As Columbia University professor, Dr Carl Hart described in a Rappler interview, when drug policy is not based on evidence, it is used as a “political football” that allows people to dehumanize those in society they do not like. Once that group is dehumanized, all sorts of atrocities appear justifiable, and we can be proud of ourselves for being the “good” people, crusading against the “bad.” (READ: Rappler Talk: Dr. Carl Hart on drug war and public health)

While the American drug war was designed to dehumanize black people, Duterte’s knock-off version dehumanizes the Filipino poor. While American predatory policing is fueled by the trope of the black urban thug, Filipino predatory policing is fueled by the tropes of the tambay and iskwater. While defenders of racist American policing refuse to acknowledge that the problem is systemic and by design, claiming instead there are just a few “bad apples” among an otherwise good police force, defenders of Filipino policing claim there are no structural problems, just a few “scalawag” and “ninja” cops to be weeded out. While American police have killed black people with impunity for hundreds of years, Filipino police are now killing poor people with impunity and applause. (READ: [OPINION] Witnessing #JunkTerrorBill alongside #BlackLivesMatter)

Kian Delos Santos begged for his life before police officers dragged him to an alley and shot him. The Caloocan police department tried to justify murdering the 17-year-old by saying social media showed that he was involved with drugs. Jefferson Bunuan was asleep at a friend’s house when police entered in search of another drug suspect and killed him. Police tortured and shot Carl Arnaiz 5 times, then planted marijuana and shabu on him before dumping his body on the side of the road in another city. The 19-year-old had been buying snacks. (READ: TIMELINE: Seeking justice for Kian delos Santos)

The point of this article is not to suggest that it is appropriate to compare the suffering of black and Filipino people, because it is not appropriate, nor is its purpose to take focus away from the Black Lives Matter movement. If anything, this history shows us that if you care about Filipino lives, you have to care about black lives. The point is: if you are performatively hashtagging about the murders of Michael, Breonna, and Trayvon, you cannot congratulate the murders of Kian, Jefferson, Carl, and over 20,000 other Filipinos. – Rappler.com

Cecilia Lero has been an activist and community organizer in the Philippines for approximately a decade. She holds a PhD in Political Science from the University of Notre Dame and is currently a postdoctoral fellow at the Centro de Estudos da Metrópole at the Universidade de São Paulo and the Centro Brasileiro de Análise e Planejamento in São Paulo, Brazil, where her work focuses on political violence, organized crime, and democratization.

27-year old Mike* is happy to count the many perks of his job as a digital freelancer. Although his resumé includes wide-ranging white-collar expertise – from content writing to search engine optimization – he is grateful that he does not have to suffer the indignities of the contemporary office worker in a city like Manila. For Mike to connect with his clients and find his next gig, he does not need to dress up formally while having to battle the streets of the city to get to work. He only has to log on to online work platforms like Upwork and Onlinejobs.ph. Even if some people might judge freelancers such as Mike for not having “real work,” he is proud that this job has allowed him to tick off two big boxes in the list of middle class aspirations that Filipinos have: buying his very own house and his very own car.  

One might think that Mike and other Filipino digital freelancers have an enviable career position in a world that is in the midst of the COVID-19 pandemic. After all, they have been paving the way in mastering the art and science of lockdown buzzwords “online work” and “work from home.” (READ: Want to work from home? Write well or do the math)

Our 3 years of research with digital freelancers tells us however that it would be a mistake to assume a clear path ahead for them. We should instead recognize that in the face of COVID-19, these freelancers, just like many other Filipino workers, will be facing potentially significant headwinds. 

Economic insecurity amid an aspirational life

One can see that Mike’s online gig life is in very real ways a step up from the usual office worker. At the same time, however, he constantly worries about the seasonality and stability of the jobs available to digital freelancers like him. He might have a house and a car, but he is also always concerned about the next gig, as he needs to continually pay for his amortization. 

So while there are aspects of digital freelancing that are aspirational, there are also aspects that share in the insecurity that characterizes a lot of the jobs available in the Philippines. Central to this experience of insecurity among these online workers is how global work platforms encourage clients to source the cheapest labor wherever it is available in the world. 

For one, the global platforms readily increase pay cuts and job bidding rates or control the number of bids a worker can make at a time. This forces freelancers to accept jobs at rates lower than what is fair. The other thing is that platforms also often institute a one-sided rating system wherein only the clients rate the workers for the jobs they have done. Some freelancers end up voluntarily overworking themselves in a bid to outdo others in terms of both quantity and quality of work.

Increased precarity 

From Mike’s story, we can see that digital freelancers are still unable to completely escape what labor scholars call “precarity.” This refers to the experience of insecurity present in many jobs in modern capitalist economies, and more so in the context of developing nations like the Philippines that have a large informal work sector. 

What further heightens the precarity of online work is that neither the global platforms nor the clients who engage digital freelancers provide safety nets for when the freelancers lose their clients. And as gig workers, these freelancers also rarely have access to state benefits, protections, or other local support systems.

Because of the global economic downturn caused by the COVID-19 pandemic, there is the danger that the digital freelancers’ clients – most of whom are themselves struggling foreign micro, small, and medium enterprises (MSMEs) – will find themselves in financial trouble. And when these clients find themselves in a tight spot, outsourced work is one of the first things that they will let go. The online workers will then be faced with the twin challenges of losing their treasured long-term clients and joining a mad scramble to get new ones.

Vulnerability despite a collaborative spirit

More entrepreneurial-minded digital freelancers have sought to escape the kind of precarity experienced by Mike by weaning themselves away from the big global online work platforms. They have instead established local collectives, which they use to distribute gig work in ways that are fairer and kinder to their fellow Filipinos. Emblematic of these trailblazing people is Andrews Libradilla. 

Together with a team of freelancers in Iligan, Andrews founded the start-up Wrupup, aimed at establishing an alternative and locally based online work platform. Their local collective is laudable as it promises to provide fairer rates for the workers, deliver training modules for them, and safeguard them during the “low season” by promoting forced savings from each of their job transactions. 

There is also Fleire Castro, also an Iligan local who founded Third Team Media, her own digital marketing company based in Cebu. Similar to some of the other leading entrepreneurial freelancers in the city, Fleire’s strategy has sought to pivot away from foreign clients and towards local MSMEs. She says that around 70% of her clients are now local and are primarily in the travel, tourism, and transport industries. (READ: How to navigate the 'new normal' for online businesses)

Through her company, Fleire is able to distribute locally-based gigs to her team of home-based freelancers. She says that having local clients enables her to provide better financial stability for herself and the other digital freelancers in her team. She explains that while local clients might be more discerning than foreign ones and want to know how effective you are, they are also keen to establish a relationship founded on trust and goodwill. 

Undermined solidarities

The attempts of Andrews and Fleire to build local-based digital gig brokerages exemplify what we have labeled in our scholarship as “entrepreneurial solidarities.” This pertains to how digital freelancers seek to help each other out in gaming the dynamics of the global digital industries, precisely because they know that the rules of the game they are in are stacked against them. So in this case, we can see their moves to localize gig distribution as their attempts to soften the harsh realities of doing online work.

But the COVID-19 pandemic has plagued both foreign and local businesses alike, with many companies closing down and losing revenue. To be sure, the entrepreneurial-minded digital freelancers say that they are pandemic-ready and agile enough to adjust to rapidly shifting clients and client demands under the new normal. But despite the strategies that they have pursued to stabilize their work, one cannot deny the possibility that their clients, whether foreign or local, will pass on their financial pain to them.

Protecting the individual digital freelancers

To shield Filipino digital freelancers from the worst of the economic effects of COVID-19, we propose two ways forward. The first proposal about the precarity of these freelancers is that the government should attend to their health and welfare that, in turn, should ensure the long-term sustainability of the sector.

One positive development as regards protecting online workers has been House Bill No. 6759 (or An Act Supporting the Growth and Development of Digital Careers in the Philippines), which was recently approved by the House of Representatives. It seeks to extend social protection systems and incentives to gig economy workers as well as digital entrepreneurs, especially with the anticipation that the impact of COVID-19 will compel some displaced workers to consider a shift to digital platform work.

However, the enactment of the bill into law may take time and online freelancers and startups need more immediate attention. While the bill’s social protection provisions have promise, it should clearly identify a lead agency that will oversee the condition of digital workers and ensure, not just the promotion of digital careers, but the accessibility of functional support systems to digital freelancers.

Supporting local digital freelancer collectives

Our second proposal deals with how the pandemic has undermined the entrepreneurial solidarities that online workers have worked hard to foster. This is especially since the emergence of local forces of collective action, such as Andrew’s Wrupup and Fleire’s Third Team Media, embody the resistance that workers have against the excesses of platform labor. 

In order for such initiatives to be sustainable in our pandemic conditions though, they need tangible business development support, grants, and acceleration programs from the government. These are what will allow them to compete with the larger and more popular platforms and contend with the challenge of attracting more prominent clients and workers. Otherwise, the economic pressures, especially in our current times, might be too much. 

If we are able to better attend to the situation of Mike, Andrews, Fleire, and other Filipino digital freelancers, then perhaps they can better lead the way towards more sustainable forms of aspirational and collective work online and work from home. Some of us will certainly welcome that kind of new normal. – Rappler.com

*Not his real name.

Jason Vincent Cabañes, PhD and Cheryll Ruth Soriano, PhD are both faculty members of the Department of Communication at De La Salle University-Manila (DLSU). They co-lead a research project funded by DLSU’s University Research Coordination Office about the viability of digital labor in Philippine regional cities. Their work recently won the Top Paper Award for the Philosophy, Theory, and Critique Division at the 70th annual conference of the prestigious International Communication Association.

On February 14, 2 weeks after the Philippines saw the first coronavirus death outside China, President Duterte encouraged Filipinos to travel with him around the country, assuring them that everything was safe. "Pasyal tayo dito sa atin. Unahin natin 'yung atin (Let's go around the Philippines. Let's prioritize our own)," he said in a taped message.

Days later, on February 18, the Department of Health (DOH) gave the President’s domestic-tourism pitch a boost, saying it was safe to attend gatherings with large crowds as long as precautionary measures were followed.

Elsewhere in Southeast Asia, countries had already started to take early and decisive steps to stop transmission of the virus. In January, Thai airports screened visitors from Wuhan, health workers monitored their temperatures, and, if necessary, quarantined them. Eventually, all those arriving from overseas were quarantined.  

Vietnam was the first to do mass quarantine outside China. On February 13, more than 10,000 people in villages outside Hanoi were placed under quarantine. 

Singapore was doing aggressive contact tracing and enforcing strict home and hospital quarantines, imposing hefty fines for violators. 

First death outside China

Contrast these with what was happening in Manila.

It was on January 21 when the Chinese man, who later became the first coronavirus death outside China, and his female companion arrived in Cebu. They also traveled to Dumaguete. Both were from Wuhan, the epicenter of the outbreak. The man was admitted to a hospital in Manila where he passed away on February 1.

The DOH failed to trace the people the couple came in contact with on the planes and in their hotels. Health Secretary Francisco Duque III blamed his subordinates for their incompetence and the airlines for not releasing contact information of the passengers.

Eventually, seemingly unaware of the urgency of the situation, Duque gave up on contact tracing. This led to grave consequences. 

First community transmission

On March 6, the virus reared its lethal head: the country had its first locally transmitted coronavirus case, a man who frequented a prayer hall for Muslims in a Greenhills mall. Another Filipino confirmed positive for COVID-19 after he returned from a short visit to Japan.

These should have sent alarm bells ringing in government as the virus, known to spread rapidly, had reached our shores. But the mood in Malacañang continued to be light, even dismissive of the greatest public-health threat the country – and the world – was facing.

President Duterte addressed a huge gathering of mayors in a Metro Manila hotel on March 9. He downplayed the virus, saying, “Maski magpunta ka ng limang milyon na handshake diyan, ‘pag hindi mo pa panahon...” (It doesn’t matter, he said, because if it’s not your time to go, 5 million handshakes won’t give you the coronavirus.) 

Hundreds, if not a thousand, mayors packed the air-conditioned hall, seated in round tables, close to each other. It is not far-fetched that this big event was a trigger for the spread of the virus as some mayors who participated in the assembly later reported from their hometowns that they tested positive for COVID-19. 

Missed targets

Clearly, Duterte did not grasp the urgency and gravity of the crisis. He set the tone from the beginning. 

The virus will “die a natural death,” he said soon after the DOH reported the first death in the country.

In his weekly addresses to the nation, the President never gave us the big and complete picture of the government strategy to contain the virus. He mentioned testing a few times and seldom talked about contact tracing.

Testing and contact tracing are two of the most important measures to slow down transmission of the virus. UP academics have pointed out in a study that contact tracing is the “weakest link” in the government’s program to contain the virus.

His health secretary was equally complacent and bereft of foresight. He did not anticipate a wave of infections, even touting the Philippines as a model country in preventing the spread of the virus. 

What is constant is this: the government keeps missing its targets for testing and contact tracing. We’re not near the promised daily tests of 30,000. And we’re extremely slow and late on contact tracing, as if it were an afterthought. 

Interior Secretary Eduardo Año recently said that the government is severely short of contact tracers and needs at least 80,000 more. Año is a key official of the National Task Force Against COVID-19, the implementing arm of the policy body, the Inter-Agency Task Force.

Lagging in Southeast Asia

Five months since the virus came to our country, half of these spent in one of the strictest and longest lockdowns in the world, we have got little to show for it. 

Compared to our Southeast Asian neighbors, the Philippines, as of June 26, holds the record of having the second highest number of active cases and the lowest recovery rate. We also have the highest number of deaths per 100,000 population at 1.14 followed by Indonesia at 0.98.

Singapore's active cases (6,106) have been declining in stark contrast to those of Indonesia (27,118) and the Philippines (22,947), which continue to rise.

Single-issue president

It is our country’s misfortune to have an incompetent leader at this time of an unprecedented crisis. Instead of pushing Duque to act with a sense of urgency, Duterte has been soft on him. The President has shunned calls from the Senate and others for him to fire the health secretary, showing that his heralded decisiveness is highly selective.  

Since Duterte has devoted his 4 years as president singularly to the drug war, he is very comfortable with the language of force and threats, his main tools of governance. He thus used his drug-war lens to fight a pandemic, strong on control but weak on public-health responses.

Duterte’s repressive rule did not change — instead crushing free expression and punishing people further by ordering the killing of quarantine violators. At least two were killed in the name of enforcing the quarantine while thousands were arrested.  

The pandemic certainly revealed what kind of leader we have. This crisis is a test of leadership — and Duterte has failed. – Rappler.com