After celebrating the 4th anniversary of the presidential inauguration, Duterte should be thankful to the 16 million Filipinos who voted for him. He should also thank the priests and religious who campaigned for him and voted for him even after cursing the Pope and after the CBCP’s appeal to the faithful to vote according to their conscience.

No survey has been conducted about how many percent of priests and religious supported him. What I have is anecdotal, personal knowledge and observation. In the religious community where I was living, most supported his candidacy, and I felt like a lonely voice warning them about the dire consequences (some of them even organized two victory celebrations in the church compound after the elections).

One confrere proudly told me to my face that he was voting for Duterte, knowing my stance. A seminarian wore a Du30 bracelet. There were 3 confreres who posted their photos on Facebook doing a fist bump. A contemplative nun campaigned on Facebook for him and even made her pet dog wear a Du30 collar. A diocesan priest who used to join me for my previous bike advocacy posted a Du30 baller on Facebook. Another diocesan priest who was my former student posted a selfie on Facebook wearing a Du30 cap. There were also diocesan priests from Mindanao who are now in the US who posted their photos on Facebook with the Du30 fist bump.

A priest texted me that most of the priests in his archdiocese in Mindanao were voting for Duterte as president and Bongbong Marcos for vice-president. Even progressive priests and nuns active in human rights and environmental advocacy supported him. A diocesan priest who was my classmate in the seminary told me his support for Duterte was the fruit of his spiritual discernment. While conducting a clergy retreat in the Visayas I got a negative reaction when I talked about the prophetic ministry and the need to denounce extrajudicial killings and the national leaders behind it. (READ: [OPINION] What would Jesus do: The Christian dilemma in the time of Duterte)

Thus, it cannot be denied that there were many priests and religious who supported Duterte and can be regarded as DDS (Diehard Duterte Supporters). The question is, why did they support Duterte and help enable him to power?

There are many underlying motivations. The first is regionalism. Many priests from Mindanao – especially the Davao provinces – instinctively supported him (“ato ni bay” – he is ours). When the Diocesan Clergy of Mindanao held their annual gathering in Davao a year before the elections, Duterte was invited as a guest speaker. It didn’t surprise me to learn later on that many diocesan priests supported him. Regionalism is part of the Philippine political culture and priests who lack critical faculty can be influenced by this. My classmate who told me that he voted for Duterte after a process of discernment was most likely influenced by regionalism rather than the Holy Spirit. My Redemptorist confrere who told me to my face that he was voting for Duterte also came from Davao.

Another factor is ideological. Many progressive priests and religious supported Duterte’s candidacy. He had a reputation for being a friend and ally of the Left even as mayor of Davao. During the campaign period he announced that he would be the first Leftist president. He promised to establish a coalition government with the Left and even a revolutionary government. A progressive association of religious sisters once invited him to be their guest speaker during an annual assembly in Davao. The progressive clergy and religious believed that Duterte could finally come up with a peace agreement with the NDF and that he could fulfil their dream of changing Philippine society radically. This is the same reason why the revolutionary Left led by the CPP and NDF supported Duterte. They were filled with euphoria when Duterte appointed 4 Leftists to the cabinet, released political prisoners, and resumed the peace process. Regret would come later.

There are other underlying reasons why priests and religious supported Duterte. A university president who is a religious priest believed in Duterte’s political will to bring about change and progress in the country, especially in Mindanao. When reminded about the extrajudicial killings, he used the argument of the common good as part of the equation. Many other priests and religious have used this reason. They believed that only a strongman like Duterte could save and change Philippine society – pagbabago. (READ: Why Filipinos believe Duterte was 'appointed by God')

Whatever their motivation, the support of many priests and religious for Duterte may have helped create the bandwagon effect. By expressing their support through social media (selfies with fist bumps, ballers, caps, etc.) they were able to influence others (especially pious lay people) to throw their support behind Duterte’s candidacy. They were like shepherds leading their flock to follow the big bad wolf. This could explain why many either defended him or remained silent as the president’s incompetence and brutality became more apparent, even when he continued to attack the Church. (READ: [OPINION] God gave us Duterte)

A time of accounting will come – like what happened after the Hitler/Nazi era. We will never forget those who helped bring into power a brutal incompetent autocrat with messianic pretensions and kept him in power. Priests and religious will not be exempted from this reckoning. This is part of a shameful episode in the history of this country and of the Church, which cannot be glossed over or covered up.

It is not too late to make amends. What is important is to admit and learn from their mistakes. There are some who have already redeemed themselves after realizing their error. They rediscovered their prophetic voice – they spoke out against extrajudicial killings, denounced human rights violations, helped provide sanctuary to witnesses, provided aid for the victims of the incompetence of leaders in time of the pandemic, etc. I hope that in the remaining two years there will be more priests and religious who will act as courageous prophets and good shepherds, who will protect their flock from the wolves. 

A time will come when those who dedicated their life to God and His people will have to answer: whose side were you on? There is no room for neutrality in the struggle between good and evil. – Rappler.com

Father Amado Picardal is the executive co-secretary of the Commission for Justice, Peace, and Integrity of Creation of the Union of Superiors General in Rome.

MANILA, Philippines – Since Tuesday, June 30, the Philippines has been under the Duterte administration for 4 years.

Each Filipino has their take on how President Rodrigo Duterte's rule so far has shaped the Philippines, and some of them can say it best through an illustration. 

For this week's Opinion Artwork, we chose the following piece by Neal Andrew Lim, entitled "Mga Salita." 

Lim is a multimedia arts professional who makes commercial animations, edits TVCs, and art directs for various agencies and productions. He also teaches Drawing part-time at DLS-CSB Animation and Mint College. 

According to Lim, "The piece shows how the orders of the current admin kill; how everyday people are all linked with the killings and the ineptitude of the current admin."

You can see more of Lim's works here:

Facebook: https://web.facebook.com/neal.lim.7 

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/siennasharpie

– Rappler.com

The Bayanihan to Heal as One Act passed by Congress was supposed to give President Rodrigo Duterte “special powers” to suspend funds for some government projects and divert them for the pandemic response.

The new demands on government are enormous indeed. The health care system must undertake mass testing and contact tracing. Hospitals must keep open and prevent becoming overwhelmed. Millions of workers and business owners need subsidies to replace their lost wages and revenues. 

But the Bayanihan Law came and went, and data show that government has failed to spend as much as it ought to, thereby botching the pandemic response. This, despite the fact that government raised about P541 billion in cash from new loans, grants, and bond issuances in April and May alone.

In the pandemonium that is Duterte’s pandemic response, one institution might yet save us: the Senate. 

Gross underspending 

Just how bad was underspending during the pandemic? 

As of June 30, Duterte’s government managed to realign about P374 billion of public funds since the Bayanihan Law was enacted last April. That’s just 9% of the P4.1 trillion 2020 budget. 

Worse, of that amount, government spent no more than P260 billion for the pandemic response by the end of June, or merely 6% of the budget. That’s actually a high estimate given all the delays we’ve seen. 

Underspending was evident, for instance, in the emergency subsidy program (ESP) which sought to dole out P5,000 to P8,000 to each of 18 million households nationwide in April and May. 

It took 3 months to disburse the first tranche for April. Even now, at the start of July, government is still scrambling to distribute the second tranche for May. No extension of the ESP is yet forthcoming.

But nowhere was underspending more evident than in the continuing lack of mass testing and contact tracing, and the inadequate expansion of health care facilities nationwide — essential as these are in the battle against coronavirus. 

So what did Duterte spend on? 

The first table below shows the top 6 agencies where government spent money from January to May 2020. 

At the top two places are the Department of Education (mostly for teachers’ salaries) and the Department of Social Welfare and Development (mostly for the emergency subsidies). 

After them are agencies concerned with infrastructure, interior and local government, and national defense. The latter two agencies comprise the police and military, respectively, and much of their budgets were spent on salaries as well. 

Health comes only at sixth place. 

The Department of Health (DOH) was allocated P100 billion in the 2020 budget. On top of this they got a top-up of nearly P50 billion for testing kits, PPEs, ventilators, and other equipment since the Bayanihan Law was enacted. Despite all these, the DOH spent only P72.2 billion as of May.

Why is the DOH’s spending too little and too slow amid this crisis?

Misguided priorities 

The spending data speak of misguided priorities.

For example, Duterte has excessively relied on militaristic quarantines led by ex-generals whom Duterte strategically placed at top cabinet posts.

Environment and Natural Resources Secretary Roy Cimatu, himself an ex-general, was recently deployed to Cebu City to oversee lockdown measures — accompanied by police personnel wearing camo, wielding rifles, and riding armed vehicles as they combed the streets. A police chief even rode a helicopter for a needless aerial survey.

Despite having one of the world’s longest quarantine measures, we’ve miserably failed to flatten the curve — even as neighbors like Vietnam and Thailand already have.

Meanwhile, health experts have been sidelined, despite officials’ insistence that they rely solely on science and data. One government consultant was summarily booted out after breaking ranks and airing criticisms about the DOH’s flawed policies. 

The misguided priorities are also apparent in the reluctance of Duterte’s economic managers to touch the massive budget for big-ticket infrastructure projects under Build, Build, Build. They’ve repeatedly claimed that infrastructure will pave the way for our economic recovery.

Although the Department of Public Works and Highways and the Department of Transportation— the chief implementers of Build Build Build — did reallocate some infra funds, they both gave up only P130.7 billion. 

Moving forward, we need to pour a lot more money into health-related expenses like mass testing and contact tracing — not on highways and bridges and subways. (READ: Test, Trace, Treat (not Build, Build, Build)) 

Besides, Build, Build, Build projects won’t fly until government removes long-standing bottlenecks in project implementation. Lawmakers must also resist the temptation of folding such projects into their pork allocations. (READ: Why we can’t Build, Build, Build our way out of this pandemic)

Supplemental budget 

Clearly, the Duterte government has failed to spend enough in its pandemic response. To compensate for this, lawmakers — particularly senators — must step up and pass a supplemental budget for the rest of 2020. 

This supplemental budget will expand the public coffers beyond the P4.1 trillion spending limit and ought to put the pandemic response front and center. 

With valuable inputs from colleagues and friends, we’ve imagined what that supplemental budget for the next 6 months should look like: prioritizing health, education, and economic aid above anything else. All these will cost around P595 billion pesos. The priorities and cost estimates are far from definitive, and we welcome comments and suggestions.

1) Robust testing and tracing that quickly identifies and isolates sources of new infections without relying on blanket lockdowns

2) Extensive education support that will allow students to continue learning despite the requirements of social distancing

3) Safety nets for displaced workers and poor families 

Funding and oversight

Part of these budget proposals may in fact be funded by additional borrowings and more realignments within the 2020 budget — even without a supplemental budget (see table below). 

But to truly save our economy, government cannot content itself with merely authorizing realignments. Given the sheer scale of the health and economic crises, a supplemental budget will be necessary. Congress must use its power of the purse. 

A number of lawmakers are already pushing for their own economic rescue packages. These include the P1.3 trillion ARISE Philippines bill and the P1.5 trillion CURES bill.

But both proposals don’t explicitly identify new borrowings as sources of funding, and still leave too much discretion to the Executive on how to spend for the new programs. Without additional details and safeguards, these bills may suffer the same fate as the Bayanihan Law.

Meanwhile, Duterte’s economic managers — led by Finance Secretary Carlos Dominguez III — have so far rebuffed proposals for a supplementary budget, saying (rather misleadingly) they can only be funded by new taxes. 

This argument stems from Article VI, Section 25, Paragraph 4 of our Constitution which states: “A special appropriations bill shall specify the purpose for which it is intended, and shall be supported by funds actually available as certified by the National Treasurer, or to be raised by a corresponding revenue proposed therein (emphasis ours).”

Essentially, the economic managers are saying that “revenue proposed” here necessarily means new taxes. No new taxes, no supplemental budget. 

But such an interpretation is narrow-minded and needlessly ties government’s hands just when it needs to spend aggressively. 

Finally, the billions of pesos that will be authorized in the supplemental budget will be put to waste absent strong oversight by Congress. 

To this end, the Senate can choose to convene a monthly Joint Congressional Oversight Committee to regularly monitor and evaluate the progress of the various programs. Said body must be inclusive and can have at least 6 members: 4 from the majority and minority of both the House of Representatives and the Senate, and two independent members from outside government (with the House and the Senate nominating one each).

Last hope?

Filipinos today are desperate for decisive leadership. Millions of lives and livelihoods are at stake.

But Duterte’s incompetence is more manifest than ever. Even if granted special powers and much discretion by Congress, he has failed to demonstrate decisive leadership. (READ: Pandemic unravels Duterte’s 2016 promise of decisive leadership)

With the Executive severely lacking in energy, imagination, and compassion — and the House too eager to pass an ill-conceived economic rescue package — it’s now up to the Senate to come up with a solid, sound supplemental budget that will force Duterte and his economic managers to change their ways and rethink their priorities. 

Such supplemental budget must pour funds into critical budget items such as health, education, and economic aid, and at the same time defund budget items like those in the police, military, and Build, Build, Build.

Will the Senate take up the cudgels and deliver us from this crisis of leadership? – Rappler.com

The authors are former government workers. Thanks to friends in the People’s Budget Initiative for previous comments and suggestions on the budget estimates.

On this day, 244 years ago, America gained her independence after a hard-fought campaign to secure life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. This year, instead of a typical July 4 celebration – enjoying a barbeque under a sky of blazing fireworks with my family – we celebrate virtually due to the COVID-19 pandemic. Despite our physical separation, the founding principles that unite us as Americans are more important than ever. The freedoms enshrined in our Bill of Rights – freedom of speech, freedom of the press, and the right to assemble – are valued around the world. Respecting these freedoms unlocks prosperity and enables cooperation between sovereign nations.   

I am privileged to have called the Philippines home now for more than 3 years. Each year, the concurrent celebration of US Independence Day and Philippine-American Friendship Day serves as a poignant reminder of the deep and historical connections that we share. From joint military exercises demonstrating our commitment to regional peace and stability, to unfailing humanitarian assistance and diverse people-to-people ties, over the past year, together, we have further enriched our friendship, partnership, and alliance.

Not long after we gained independence, the US Congress approved the first deployment of an American warship to the Pacific, in 1817. More than 200 years later, our commitment to a free and open Indo-Pacific endures. Last year, we welcomed the USS Ronald Reagan Carrier Strike Group, with almost 300 Filipino-American sailors aboard, and the USS Montgomery, the first US ship to visit Davao in decades. The US Coast Guard Cutter Stratton joined maritime training in Palawan alongside the Philippine Navy and Japan Maritime Self-Defense Force. US and Filipino troops strengthened interoperability, battle readiness, and built personal bonds in the joint Balikatan and KAMANDAG military exercises. KAMANDAG included the first largescale airborne drop since World War II, during which 500 US and Philippine paratroopers participated in a “Friendship Jump” demonstrating solidarity and cooperation. And proudly, over the past year, we commemorated the 75th anniversary of the end of the World War II. At inspiring ceremonies, I met heroic American and Filipino veterans who, together, risked everything for liberty, bonding our two nations as allies for freedom. 

Friends help each other in times of need, or as I’ve heard here, the weight becomes lighter when we help each other – “Ang mabigat ay gumagaan, kapag nagtutulungan.” Secretary Pompeo said on Philippine Independence Day, “As we stood together during World War II and in the global fight against terrorism, our nations are partnering again to contain and mitigate COVID-19.” I am proud of the more than P978 million ($19.5 million) in COVID-19 US government aid to the Philippines. Complementing this support are donations of food, technology, and other assistance from US companies, a testament to their deep commitment to flatten the curve. In conversations with US firms, I have been moved by their dedication to assist Filipino employees and impressed by their desire to sustain national economic recovery efforts.

Meanwhile, our people-to-people ties are stronger than ever. For the third successive year, the number of Filipinos studying in the United States grew, and their accomplishments are outstanding.  Filipina Mary Pauline Fornea not only graduated with honors from the US Naval Academy, she also won a bronze medal in the duathlon mixed relay during the 30th Southeast Asian Games. Submarine officer Lt. Melanie Martins, from Pampanga, became the first ever Filipina-American to earn the US Navy “Dolphins” submarine warfare insignia, signifying her competency to assume command in an emergency. In my hometown of Los Angeles, Historic Filipinotown will soon have a landmark named “Talang Gabay: Our Guiding Star” to honor contributions of Filipino-Americans to the city.   

On this day, as Americans celebrate our nation’s founding, we reaffirm our commitment to support overseas the principles we cherish so deeply at home. Happy US-Philippine Friendship Day, and happy 244th US Independence Day! – Rappler.com

Sung Yong Kim is an American diplomat and the current United States Ambassador to the Philippines.

A theater of the absurd — that’s what the hearings into ABS-CBN’s application for the renewal of its broadcast franchise have turned into. 

(Having borrowed a phrase already taken as a proper name, for a literary movement in the fifties and sixties, and using it here in a rather unsavory context, I think apologies are only in order.) 

Actually, the hearings have descended from absurdity to absurdity, and may have reached the point of denouement in the week now ending. One never knows what pits the Congress has the stomach for, but it seems clear that the nadir of absurdity has been, for all intents and purposes, reached. 

Every one of their allegations — violations of labor and securities laws, tax evasion, foreign ownership, etc. — having been disproved decisively, the congressmen who don’t want the franchise renewed have had their last veil of disguise peeled off to reveal Rodrigo Duterte’s face contorted in vengeful and narcissistic contempt for ABS-CBN, all for an old slight — it had no airtime to spare for a couple of campaign advertisements for his successful presidential run in 2016. (READ: [PODCAST] Law of Duterte Land: ABS-CBN and the 3 tangled branches of government)

To begin with, none of those allegations, even if proved, would constitute a justification for denying ABS-CBN. But again, to prove anything seems hardly the point, but, rather, simply to close ABS-CBN, with or without justification. 

All tricks of concealment now exhausted and defeated, the tricksters turned on the National Telecommunications Commission (NTC) in supreme annoyance. Already licensed to operate outside fair practice — like allowing a franchisee to continue operating on an expired franchise while the application for its renewal is pending with Congress — NTC still could not jerk ABS-CBN off the air with one shutdown order. Like an inept hit man, it failed to finish the job: ABS-CBN remained very much around. 

NTC had to issue a second order, to stop ABS-CBN using time bought from another franchisee, an arrangement also authorized by NTC. Now completely off the radio band and confined to cable and cyberspace, the network should feel safer lying outside the jurisdiction of Congress, the franchisee, and NTC, the franchise regulator. 

But safer only in theory. Against the long arm of Duterte, no one is really safe. 

All this ugly theater playing live on national television, truth and justice have never stared the Duterte regime in the face so hard and so publicly. If still, amid such open shaming, Congress remains unchastened and votes no, it will lose what is left, if any, of its moral standing. 

Panatang Makabayan

For all the disingenuousness, viciousness, and absurdities that have pervaded them, the hearings have had their own instructive value — thanks to Rodante Marcoleta.    

Did Eugenio Lopez III remember his "Panatang Makabayan?" he asked Lopez.

It was a classic Marcoleta question: mindless, offensive, and irrelevant, and predictable in each case. It was asked after the fact had been established that Lopez had been, always, a Filipino citizen. (READ: Netizens hit Marcoleta's 'distasteful' use of Kim Chiu video at ABS-CBN hearing)

But there’s something rather aberrant about Marcoleta: he just won’t stop flogging a dead horse, whether it be the Lopez citizenship or any other carcass, which is the precise lifeless state common to all the issues raised against ABS-CBN. 

He tried to breathe new life into the issue of citizenship by equating it with allegiance. I guess if it didn’t make too much of a mess he’d have had Lopez’s breast hacked open and, finding no “Panatang Makabayan” engraved in his heart, had him declared non-Filipino, as such ineligible to own any part of ABS-CBN. 

Mercifully, Marcoleta only asked if Lopez remembered his “Patriotic Pledge” (that’s the title’s translation in English by my recollection; now it’s “Pledge of Allegiance”). Never mind whether Lopez ever led his network — whose motto, as Marcoleta reminded him constantly, is “In the service of the Filipino” — in reciting the pledge after a mass singing of “Bayang Magiliw,” the national anthem, as the nation’s flag ran up the pole; but did he even remember the pledge? 

Me — I did seem to remember, but, to make sure, not taking any chances with Marcoleta, I decided to look and review. And I was afforded a recognition of the significance in these times of a pledge I had taken by childish rote to a country I had thought I owed by virtue alone of its being “the land of my birth” and “the home of my race.” 

I looked now, with senior sense, and saw a contract, and have realized, Hey, my country owes me, too! Look yourself:

Panatang Makabayan

Iniibig ko ang Pilipinas.
Ito ang aking lupang sinilangan.
Ito ang tahanan ng aking lahi.
Ako’y kanyang kinukupkop at tinutulungan upang maging malakas, maligaya, at kapakipakinabang.

Bilang ganti, diringgin ko ang payo ng aking mga magulang.
Susundin ko ang mga tuntunin ng aking paaralan.
Tutuparin ko ang mga tungkulin ng isang mamamayang makabayan at masunurin sa batas 

Paglilingkuran ko ang aking bayan nang walang pag-iimbot at nang buong katapatan. 
Sisikapin kong maging isang tunay na Pilipino sa isip, sa salita, at sa gawa.

The clear deal is for my country “to harbor and protect and help” me — which, of course, it can only do personified by the proper leadership — so that I may become “a strong, happy, and useful citizen,” and that only by such a fair exchange may my country count on my allegiance.

I wonder if Marcoleta realizes that, too. Indeed, I wonder what pledge he himself remembers and recites, and what country he pledges himself to. 

The lesson in patriotism he inspired should be useful as well in the case of Lea Salonga, the singer and actor of world renown. She was a recent victim of social-media savagery; many were quick to jump her after she had posted online that she found her country hard to love: “Dear Pilipinas, p*****ina, ang hirap mong mahalin.” 

Not only do I perfectly understand her, I do empathize with her.

But simple-minded, pretentious, and malicious others took her swear phrase, intended unmistakably as an interjection of frustration, and made it look as if she had aimed it at mother country.  

Learn from Marcoleta: Look at your "Panatang Makabayan." – Rappler.com

Challenges and misfortunes such as this pandemic can be an opportunity to bring out the best in someone. In fact, one of Isaac Newton's most productive periods as a scholar was during the Great Plague of 1666. As a PhD student, I couldn't help but speculate the circumstances surrounding Newton at that time. Was he out of funding? Did he attempt to go home? How did he survive?

But maybe events like this pandemic also bare the truth about your status and privilege. As a scholar stranded abroad, the consequences of COVID-19 elucidated what it means to be vulnerable and insecure as the world grapples with a crisis.

Hopeful years

The opportunity of studying abroad lives with you for long. You embrace a new way of thinking, learning, and living, and you enhance your potential through a diverse set of experiences and environments, which can incubate scholarly ideas. It is even more thrilling when students are awarded with funding, because it turns an impossible dream into a reality. 

Everyone arrives in their host countries very hopeful. I still remember that day in 2016, when I first came to Japan, full of hope and possibilities. I thought that in 4 years, I would be able to contribute to my discipline and improve my perspectives. But all of these expectations are assumed within favorable conditions. 

My life as a scholar was also filled with ups and downs, but they were all predictable. I knew that funding would never be enough; that publishing was a painful process; and that people often don’t finish on schedule. There sure were a lot more questions than answers. My PhD was not only an academic journey, but also a life lesson.

Yet nothing prepared me for being stranded and in limbo during the pandemic.

Diverging privileges: Not all scholars are the same

COVID occurred during the most stressful and hectic time of the academic calendar year. When the spread and the threat of lockdown were imminent, even just to pack up and leave was not a privilege for all scholars. Last-minute plane tickets were unfamiliar options even before the pandemic, and it always will be for students who are under limited funding. In that fateful moment, the world closed its doors, leaving thousands of people with no choice but to stay where they were. (READ: [OPINION] Studying in the U.S. in the middle of a pandemic)

We cannot say that the pandemic affects everyone in the same manner. Some may only be inconvenienced by the (temporary) school closures and halt to their experiments and data gathering activities. Educational institutions were quick to adopt the online mode of learning, but as seamless as it seemed for those with developed infrastructures for learning, it wasn't for those who don't have a decent internet connection.

Learning was just one aspect where students were inequal. Not all students experienced the same financial woes as well. Some were stranded without funding or had no opportunity to get a part-time job. I was unfortunate to be caught in the crossfire of the pandemic and the tail-end of my scholarship. It wouldn’t have been a problem if I was done with my studies, but with my pending requirements, the end was far from sight: graduation, going home, and the death of this pandemic.

Universities and schools give as much assistance as they can to those affected by the pandemic. Still, help isn’t as universal as it seems. It entails a lot of work to be eligible for assistance. In some instances, students first need to prove good academic status and a decrease in income. Undoubtedly, institutions want to be prudent in giving help, but falling short of these qualifications doesn’t mean a student is not affected by the pandemic. 

Who takes care of us?

Filipino students abroad during this crisis are in a liminal space. We are not considered OFWs nor do we have their privileges. We might be closer to a long-term tourist, ultimately classified as an Overseas Filipino (OF). This truth was revealed when OFs had to pay for their own quarantine and testing. And shouldering our own financial expenses is just one aspect of our vague status. (READ: [FIRST PERSON] Diary of a Filipina who survived coronavirus in Berlin)

Identity matters to survive in this pandemic. Asking for assistance also means going through a lot of bureaucratic lingo – “Who is your coordinator?” “Who provides your scholarship?” – in order to pinpoint what kind of assistance you deserve. 

The host country can only provide so much assistance at this point, but who then takes the responsibility when this assistance runs out? What do Filipino scholars abroad, in this time of the pandemic, mean for the Philippines, regardless of their scholarships and universities?

Hopeful, still

As I wait for our repatriation flight to the Philippines (after 7 ticket cancellations), I remain hopeful and try to remember that day I arrived as a scholar. This experience has taught me more about how your privilege can dictate your entitlement for welfare, and how well you will fare in this crisis. Coincidentally, my dissertation focuses on the politics of gender and the redistribution of cash transfer programs. 

Despite all the glamor, opportunities, and titles they enjoy, Filipino scholars abroad are mired in liminality and uncertainty. Their sense of security is usually found within the 4 walls of the classroom, so when everyone and everything is affected, this security comes into question. I hope this pandemic helps us recognize the inequality and insecurity Filipino scholars experience abroad. We, too, are affected. We hope to keep our well-being intact in this crisis, so we can bring home contributions that will be beneficial to the country. – Rappler.com

Tina Alinsunurin is a PhD student at Nagoya University, studying International Development. Follow Tina on Twitter (@ciaobetina) for discussions on gender and welfare.

Every narrative has a counternarrative. In the prevailing urban-centric discourse on the COVID-19 pandemic, stories from the provinces are often filtered through the optics of the central government and Metro Manila’s experience of the crisis. No wonder the national government responded to the surge in the COVID-19 cases in Cebu with stricter, highly militarized quarantine measures. For the government, the pasaway (disobedience verging on recklessness) in Manila is the same pasaway in Central Visayas and elsewhere in the country. And when rural areas get sustained attention from mainstream media, people in the countryside are often reduced to "frontliners" anointed to feed the largely urban population in the time of a pandemic.   

When our diverse narratives of COVID-19 — that is, our stories of what the pandemic is, who the main characters are, and how the story should unfold — are simplified into a single plot by an all-seeing state or a powerful group of people, authoritarian measures that benefit some while making others more vulnerable tend to be justified. 

In the 1979 groundbreaking book of Filipino rural sociologist par excellence, Gelia T. Castillo, titled Beyond Manila: Philippine rural problems in perspective, she underscored the importance of "rural mindedness," i.e., taking into account the experiences, emotions, and social location of people in the rural areas, in the pursuit of a more just and equitable path to national development.  

Four decades after and as the country struggles to survive a pandemic, Dr. Castillo’s advice still rings true. We need to be more mindful of how people and local institutions in the countryside respond to and are affected by the pandemic. This is paramount particularly now that COVID-19 accelerates in some regions in the Visayas and Mindanao. (READ: [OPINION] Rural societies and the coronavirus pandemic)

But how would the pandemic look like if viewed from the countryside? 

Conjoined fates

Hours after President Rodrigo Duterte declared a Luzon-wide lockdown on March 16, groups of migrant workers in Metro Manila, mostly men employed in construction work, began to travel on foot in an attempt to return to their provinces, miles away from the country’s capital. The exodus of Filipino internal migrant workers typifies the conjoined fates of cities and the probinsya even in the time of a pandemic. 

It is not a connection that springs from an imagined faraway place where rich urbanites and artists go for solace and inspiration. Rather, it is a place born out of decades of neglect, the birthplace of many who have left to write their own destiny elsewhere, and the only place they can go back to when a crisis as deep as the COVID-19 pandemic exposed society’s perverse development trajectories. 

When COVID-19 brought the Philippine economy to a near-standstill, the crisis laid bare the fragility of a consumption-driven service economy that thrives on cheap, precarious labor of internal migrant workers. With no jobs and network of social support to keep them afloat, and with very limited rights to demand for city government subsidies, many of these informal workers scrambled to go home. 

But it would take the demise of Michelle Silvertino for the national government to heed the call of tens of thousands of stranded workers in the country’s capital. For many informal rural-to-urban migrant workers who have endured the harsh realities of being second-class citizens in cities, the protection from a pandemic is far from being a public good. (READ: [OPINION] Can Balik-Probinsya, Bagong Pag-Asa help stranded Filipinos?)

Outside the cities 

But the tragedy of those who fled is only part of a bigger story that COVID-19 is unraveling about the countryside. Some rural communities find strength in traditional sources of social cohesion and shared experiences of responding to crisis. In the town of Sadanga, Mountain Province, Mayor Gabino Ganggangan refused to receive relief food packs from the national government as the local officials uphold the long-held tradition of the Sadanga Indigenous people of having the kadangyan or the wealthier members of the community open up their rice granaries to the poor in times of crisis. (READ: [OPINION] Putting the 'community' back in the enhanced community quarantine)

The pandemic also revealed people’s attachment to a place and sense of belonging, which ignited countless examples of collective action to help the most vulnerable groups in the villages, towns, and provinces where they come from. From the Filipino word ambag, which means one’s share to a collective affair, the Batch 2011 graduates of Oriental Mindoro National High School mobilized an online fundraising Ambagan para sa Kalusugan (Ambagan for Health) to provide rice and fresh vegetables to hundreds of poor families and personal protective equipment to frontline health workers in their home province. 

For Eric Balois, a barista in a local coffee shop just outside the University of the Philippines Los Baños where I teach, the COVID-19 crisis made him rediscover assets that he possessed all along after losing his job and was forced to return to their hometown of Infanta in Quezon province. 

During the lockdown, Eric kept himself busy growing vegetables around their house. Even the roadsides are lined up with trellises of beans. “Mas maganda dito sa Infanta at hindi binibili ang pagkain, fresh pa. Talagang ‘pag diyan sa Los Baños lahat ay bili,” he said. 

(It’s better here in Infanta. You don’t have to spend for food, which always comes fresh. In Los Baños, everything has a price) 

While these accounts somewhat defy the tropes of vulnerable, disaster-stricken rural areas, one can find unequal levels of resilience and vulnerabilities within the rural communities, just like in any other places in the country.

For Marlon Dalipe, a construction worker who walked for 5 days from Cavite to his hometown of Gallego in Camarines Sur, the pandemic felt worse than the typhoons that frequently hit the Bicol region. It took weeks before the fatigue and the soreness of his feet went away. For almost 4 months, he ekes out a living from fishing and sometimes from river sand quarrying. Because he earns very little compared to his araw or daily wages from construction work, he doesn’t consider fishing a real job. “Para lang akong naglalaro,” (It’s like I’m playing) Marlon said in a disheartening tone. 

Some technocrats prefer the likes of Marlon to shift from the agricultural sector in the rural areas to another low productivity sector in the urban areas. They equate such action to resilience. But such view of resilience elides social injustice and inequality that many communities in the countryside have endured for decades. How is he supposed to react to the Balik Probinsya program for the urban poor when he himself could not even find a job in his birthplace? 

Amid the uncertainties of whether he can still go back to construction work in Manila or in the Calbarzon region, Marlon still hopes for a better future. “Sana magkatrabaho na ako, ‘yung pangmatagalan. Kung mas malapit, mas maganda.” (I hope to find a job, one that is more permanent. If it’s here [in Bicol], the better). 

Whole-of-nation approach…whose nation? 

There is much to learn about the link between COVID-19 and the demographics, geography, local politics, and culture in places beyond the confines of Metro Manila and urban Luzon. 

In areas that are not so well connected to road networks and digital infrastructures, fewer jobs might be amenable to the modern notion of "work from home." Thus, local governments should vigorously support home-based industries and community-driven livelihoods by providing organized groups and networks of households with financial and technical assistance and connecting them to wider markets. 

These efforts to promote local resiliency should be complemented with national-level policy changes that are protective of our rural economies. 

The Department of Agriculture’s emergency response to the pandemic along with new forms of social solidarities that emerged to make agricultural supply chains more fair suggest that better alternatives to the anti-poor neoliberal policies of the past are possible. 

The "whole-of-nation approach" that the Inter-Agency Task Force (IATF) for the Management of Emerging Infectious Diseases constantly invoke in its resolutions will only have meaning to the entire nation if the values, experiences, and stories of diverse communities, especially those historically disempowered by existing social and institutional structures, are reflected in the governmet responses to the crisis. Only then can the protection from a pandemic be a public good. – Rappler.com

Winifredo Dagli is an assistant professor at the Department of Science Communication, College of Development Communication, University of the Philippines Los Baños. He’s also a PhD candidate in rural studies at the University of Guelph. 

We are constantly in search of home. This is what the world’s longest coronavirus lockdown has made us realize.

When the President announced the Luzon-wide enhanced community quarantine (ECQ), many workers, students, and families alike rushed to bus terminals, while the more privileged drove out of Metro Manila to their respective provinces before public transportation and mobility were limited – supposedly to curb the transmission of COVID-19. 

Even before the formal announcement of the ECQ, I already took a hint from the week-long class suspension in Metro Manila. I packed 3 days' worth of clothing, grabbed my backpack, slid my laptop inside, and immediately booked a ride to the bus station. Upon arriving at the bus station, I was shocked to see that some of the drivers and conductors of the bus company I patronize had been picketing for weeks, saying they were not given just wages and due benefits. I expressed my support for them and immediately rushed to the next bus terminal. That day, I only had one goal in mind: to go home. And on my way home, rumors started circulating that a lockdown would be imposed. I could not have been more thankful that I was on the road. 

What unfolded before us was a catastrophe. With public transportation at a halt and stay-at-home measures strictly enforced, many who did not have the chance to travel before the lockdown were caught in the crossfire. Thousands were stranded in their offices, apartments, and barracks, and some had no choice but to be out on the streets. They came from different places and probably spoke in different tongues, but in my head, they were all shouting in unison: “We want to go home.” (READ: Stranded worker dies while waiting for bus ride home to Bicol)

And it made me understand – again – that home is not always a place. It is a feeling of comfort and safety that may or may not involve other people. Some people who were left to fend for themselves felt solace and peace, being away from the cacophony of the outside world. They were in their concept of home. Others, myself included, had the chance to travel and are now in the comforts of their houses with all the provisions they need. This is what they call home.

But more people didn’t have any other choice but to stay put where they were. They were also in search of home. Some had a hard time putting food on their plates, when it is food that gives them a sense of home. Some miss out on the comfort of family and friends who assure them of love and care, both materially and emotionally, in this time of great crisis. And although there are a lucky few who don’t have to worry about making ends meet, they also miss out on opportunities to bond with friends and significant others. Even the emergence of technological tools such as Zoom has not satisfied our longingness for home, and this only proves how the pandemic has altered our notion of personal security.

People close to me have been looking forward to certain events, and I've seen these events toned down or outright canceled because of the pandemic. A cousin’s wedding celebration has been postponed for next year. My aunt moved into a new house without much fanfare. Commencement exercises for some of my friends have been moved to a more auspicious date. Former classmates who were supposed to take their licensure examinations have to go through rigorous review days again. Some traveler friends, who consider the world their home, have had to postpone their travel goals. The pandemic has destroyed everything we've considered normal, including our perception of home – our dearly beloved country included. (READ: How to help locally stranded Filipinos near NAIA who want to go home)

It had occurred to me lately that, prior to the pandemic, I hadn't been staying in one place for too long since I left the province to pursue my undergraduate studies. Going back once in a while to my home province and my undergraduate university always made me rethink my own concept of home. Do I still call it home when the people with whom I had the greatest pleasure of befriending were no longer there? Is it all in my head now?

The constant search for home, in truth, is a search for happiness and contentment. It is an effort to find a place to settle in, where we can be happy with what we do and can be both candid and affectionate with the people around us. Home is a state where the heart finds rest, an abode for the withered soul in the midst of a chaotic world, with or without a pandemic.

Home is where we would rather be, and there is no place like it. – Rappler.com 

Edward Joseph H. Maguindayao is a graduate student at the University of the Philippines-Diliman. 

As non-essential personnel in the first weeks of the pandemic, my thoughts were the same as everybody else: “Where the hell do I get a toilet paper?” I didn’t have a lot of selfless and noble ideas back then to fight the virus. I was more concerned about my trips being canceled, and the Black Widow film being rescheduled from May to November. Admittedly, I had brushed off COVID-19’s threat, thinking that I wouldn’t even have anything to contribute, not being in the medical field. Obviously, I was very wrong. 

As the weeks went by under enhanced community quarantine (ECQ), the number of COVID-19 cases steadily climbed. The government continued to roll out cash assistance programs and national policies to combat the pandemic and its consequent tragedies. But implementation was a different matter altogether.

As lapses in the execution of these policies became evident, the public grew restless. Soon enough, hospitals cried out over their lack of necessary Personal Protective Equipment (PPE), public transport drivers begged for work, and small business owners filed for bankruptcy. Complaints rolled in, creating an online ruckus on crisis mismanagement and the unjust decrees that bare latent interclass tensions within Philippine society.

Soon after, the fear of hunger overwhelmed the fear of the disease and the public took the streets. Seeing how the pandemic has brought the country to the brink of disorder, many private citizens were forced to mobilize and assist in any way possible. Makers, designers, engineers, students, artists, weavers, and more joined the fight and entered the pandemic ring. These non-medical practitioners constitute the country’s COVID-19 "backliners." (READ: 3 Filipino-made medical apps to help combat coronavirus)

Collaboration is the cure

My backliner journey started when I joined UP Manila’s Surgical Innovation and Biotechnology Laboratory (SIBOL) team of tech professionals, brought together to collaborate for solutions to the "invisible enemy." It is basically a think tank composed of big names in the research industry, led by Dr. Edward Wang.

Working and exchanging ideas with these multidisciplinary experts was really exhilarating. But the in-depth discussions and quick tossing around of propositions could make one lose track of what is happening, especially given the complexities of remote communication (which we were forced to adopt, given the state of affairs).

Personally, I believe this is one of the main challenges of ideation in the pandemic setting. As a product design teacher, I always tell my class that design sprints with the potential user or target market need to be personal and intimate. This allows the designer to get as much information as possible from the client, including the non-verbal ones. Online meetings and interactions are also prone to miscommunication, which could easily wreck the brainstorming process. But how do we make online ideation intimate and personal? How do we transcend virtual borders and create a useful designer-client connection?

Here’s what I found out: given the limitations of the type of communication, it is important to compromise a little bit on the designer-client idea exchange and focus on one-way idea transfer. What this means is full reliance on the experience and knowledge of medical professionals regarding what they need and fully letting go of that tenacious engineering/design trait known as the “hero complex.”

Don’t be a hero

Most engineers and designers suffer from what is known as the hero syndrome. They go marching into places with real-life technical challenges like rural communities, small hospitals, and barrio schools with chests puffed out, exclaiming “We’re engineers from *insert random University/College* and we’re here to solve your problem for you!” This is exactly how it goes for most engineering projects I know, true story.

But here’s the thing: a three-day immersion will never match the years of experience locals and residents have. They face those challenges every day, so they probably know the most fitting solution, a fix that can easily be adopted given their culture and condition. The biggest insult you can throw their way is to take the helm and steer their boat. Quite possibly, they simply lack the capability to shape up their ideas into an actual product/process. What they need is someone who can realize their solutions, someone who can listen and retell their story. (READ: [OPINION] Putting the 'community' back in the enhanced community quarantine)

The same applies when engineering or designing for health care. As a backliner, it would be detrimental to the communication and design process for us engineers to take the lead, more so given the non-ideal online setup of the design sprint. Our limited knowledge and experience with medical processes and culture would have prevented us from making appropriate solutions. Listening to the doctor’s needs became key. Essentially, the entire design process is just a retelling of their story and a strengthening of their narrative. 

Designing for care is designing for diversity

As some of the projects proposed started rolling out, I discovered that healthcare engineering means considering diversity and inclusion without exception. As our team designed and fabricated the “Sanipod: Self-contained Disinfecting Cubicle” alpha prototype, we went through a few (a lot, really) of revisions, particularly on the height and width of the cubicle and the positioning of the spray nozzles.

This is actually nothing new; after all, design is an iterative process. But as I became exceptionally frustrated re-drilling holes and re-positioning the piping system, I began to realize what we were missing. We were always thinking of the AVERAGE. We asked questions like “What is the average height of Filipino males and females? What is the average width of the potential users?” There is nothing wrong about this per se. If truth be told, all engineering and design classes will teach you to always consider the standard user when developing a product.

However, medical products are on an entirely different level. It’s not about accessibility for most; it’s about accessibility for all. If we had designed the Sanipod based on the standard, those with proportions at the extremes would never be able to fit in there. The medical professionals I worked with, Dr. Cathy Co and Dr. Edward Wang, made me realize how limiting my design thinking was and showed me a whole new way of designing for diversity and inclusion. 

Move slow and DO NOT break things

Being a product developer, it is important to move quickly as new products get created every day. I also teach my students that at the initial phase of the ideation process, quantity is more important than quality. “More is always better,” I advise my class. I even try my hardest to make the classroom as accepting of mistakes and bad designs as possible. This way, they will be able to easily identify the best among the rest. We were living by Facebook founder Mark Zuckerberg’s now famous motto, “Move fast and break things,” which means to innovate as fast as possible, welcome mistakes, and grow rapidly by taking risks.

This design motto does not apply to the healthcare industry, however. In contrast, it does not allow you to take risks when inventing and innovating. Why? Because in the medical industry, it is always a matter of life and death. Everything, even the smallest details, must be carefully thought of, including how the product can be integrated into hospital operations before letting the product out. Believe it or not, our alpha prototypes were already functional and ready for deployment given the cautious scrutiny of the medical professionals we worked with. This way, I learned that there’s no such thing as "too much care" in healthcare. (READ: 4 new tech solutions deployed by DOST to fight coronavirus)

Finally, working with all these amazing people under the SIBOL team has taught me that designing for healthcare is more demanding than any other sector and industry I’ve had previous experience in. A designer or engineer looking towards a career in the medical industry must charge head-on with an open mind and an optimistic attitude. Recognize that the stakes are always higher — and the potential outcomes, even more so. – Rappler.com

Jason “Pech” Pechardo is a Materials Engineer who teaches Product Development at the University of the Philippines-Diliman. 

Shortly after Congress passed the Anti-Terror Bill, critics and opponents denounced it as signifying “martial rule without martial law” or as being “worse than martial law.”  Because martial law – at the nationwide level – has often been associated with the dictatorship of Ferdinand Marcos, the term martial law has somewhat become a metonymy (or substitute) for dictatorship or authoritarian rule. 

Over the past few years, political analysts have written extensively about the erosion of democracy in the Philippines under the presidency of the populist Rodrigo Duterte. With the countless extrajudicial killings of drug suspects, suppression of dissent, grave infringements on civil liberties and the rule of law, and Duterte’s arrogation of broad executive powers, political scientists have characterized the Philippines as being an “illiberal democracy” and warned that it could turn – or return – to authoritarian rule.

With Duterte signing the controversial Anti-Terror Bill into law, which vaguely defines “terrorism” and grants the state and its security forces virtually free rein in cracking down on so-called “terrorists,” has the Philippines finally tipped over into a dictatorship? (READ: ‘The demise of democracy’: Filipinos denounce signing of anti-terror law)

According to some political analysts, the Philippines already slipped into authoritarian rule sometime ago, This appraisal can be gleaned from articles published early this year by the Varieties of Democracy (V-Dem) Institute and political scientists Steven Levitsky and Lucan Way. Amid the COVID-19 pandemic, their references to the authoritarian slide in the Philippines have gone largely unnoticed. 

The V-Dem Institute, an independent research institute based in Gothenburg, Sweden, which is reputed to have produced the largest global dataset on democracy, presents a bleak picture of the global state of democracy. According to V-Dem, the world has been undergoing a “third wave of autocratization” since 1994. More and more countries have turned to autocratic rule – a form of government in which a single person or party possesses supreme and absolute power. The current wave of autocratization is posing a challenge even to some established democracies, including the United States and India.

According to V-Dem’s Anna Lührmann & Staffan I. Lindberg, both political scientists, today’s autocracies are different from those of the first (1926-1942) and second (1963-1977) waves of autocratization. 

In the first two waves, most of the autocracies were of the “closed” type – regimes that did not hold multiparty elections to choose the chief executive. Autocrats seized power through such “classic” ways of autocratization as military coup, foreign invasion, or autogolpe (a “self-coup” in which the would-be autocrat would dissolve Congress, suspend civil liberties, and rule by decree). In 1980, about half of the countries in the world had closed autocracies.

Today’s autocracies are mostly “electoral autocracies” – they conduct some form of multiparty elections for choosing the chief executive. Would-be autocrats “legally access power and then gradually, but substantially, undermine democratic norms without abolishing key democratic institutions.” They resort to “more clandestine ways” of autocratic rule, such as harassment of opponents and critics, constraints on media freedom and the space for civil society, and the erosion of checks on executive power.

In its Democracy Report 2020, published in February this year, the V-Dem Institute declared: “For the first time since 2001, autocracies are in the majority: 92 countries – home to 54% of the global population.” Of these autocracies, 67 are electoral and only 25 are closed. V-Dem listed 87 countries as democratic: 37 liberal democracies and 50 electoral democracies (countries which have open and competitive elections, but which have shortcomings in civil and political liberties and the rule of law).  

The Philippines was still included in the ranks of “electoral democracies” in V-Dem’s 2019 report, but near the bottom of the list. It slipped down to “electoral authoritarian” in V-Dem’s 2020 report. The overwhelming victory of Duterte’s forces in the 2019 midterm elections, which were marred by massive vote-buying and malfunctioning vote-counting machines, must have proven crucial in the Philippines’ downgrading. V-Dem did not present details on the Philippines in its report, but it provides access to its dataset free of charge.

Levitsky, a professor of government at Harvard University, and Way, a professor of political science at the University of Toronto, have written extensively on “competitive authoritarianism.” Authoritarianism is a form of government characterized by absolute or blind obedience to authority. Like “illiberal democracy,” ”competitive authoritarianism” is a hybrid between democracy and authoritarianism. The former “hybrid regime” falls a bit more on the democracy side, while the latter is more on the authoritarianism side. 

According to Levitsky and Way, competitive authoritarian regimes are “civilian regimes in which formal democratic institutions exist and are widely viewed as the primary means of gaining power, but in which incumbents’ abuse of the state places them at a significant advantage vis-`a-vis their opponents.” 

“Such regimes are competitive in that opposition parties use democratic institutions to contest seriously for power, but they are not democratic because the playing field is heavily skewed in favor of incumbents. Competition is thus real but unfair.”

The global rise of competitive authoritarianism, say Levitsky and Way, is a post-Cold War phenomenon. After the collapse of Soviet communism, the West established global liberal hegemony, in which the U.S. had “unrivalled military, economic, and ideological power.” 

The early 21st century, however, saw dramatic changes in the global scene: the rise of China and Russia, a downslide in the influence of Western liberalism, major advances by illiberal forces within the West itself, and the dwindling of US democracy promotion efforts. 

Full-scale authoritarianism did not stage a comeback. Instead, competitive authoritarianism came to the fore. Among the international factors that proved crucial to the latter’s rise and resilience were that Western democracies continued to be the world’s most influential states, and that no alternative model had emerged to challenge liberal democracy. Within many of the competitive authoritative regimes themselves, states and ruling parties were so weak that they lacked the institutional and coercive capacity to muzzle or stamp out the opposition. 

In the article “The New Competitive Authoritarianism,” published in Journal of Democracy, January 2020, Levitsky and Way included the Philippines in the list of “competitive authoritarian regimes.” They clarified that competitive authoritarianism had managed to emerge even in countries with stronger democratic traditions and institutions such as Hungary, Turkey, and the Philippines, as prospective authoritarians had employed “greater skill, more sophisticated strategies, and far more extensive popular mobilization.” The Philippines’ Duterte, they noted, “astutely tapped into widespread public disaffection over soaring crime rates and persistent corruption.”

The appraisals of the V-Dem Institute and Levitsky/Way on the autocratic or competitive authoritarian character of the Philippines’ current regime are by no means the general consensus or the dominant view among political analysts and observers. Freedom House still classifies the Philippines as "partly free" (between "free" and "not free") – a broad category covering a wide range of hybrid regimes, including illiberal democracies, electoral autocracies, and electoral/competitive authoritarian regimes. The Democracy Index 2020 of the Economist Intelligence Unit (EIU) still classifies the Philippines as an "electoral democracy." 

The positions taken by the V-Dem Institute and Levitsky/Way would need to be examined more closely.  

If what V-Dem and Levitsky/Way contend is true, then Duterte is already a despot. He does not need to declare martial law or a “revolutionary government” to become one. The Anti-Terror Law, as well as the conviction of journalists Maria Ressa and Rey Santos, Jr, the shutdown of ABS-CBN, the enforcement of a “martial law-style” COVID-19 lockdown, and the crackdown on activists are indications not of a dictatorship in the making but of a dictatorship at work. By the V-Dem or Levitsky/Way logic, Duterte is currently presiding over something more palatable than old-style authoritarian rule: a dictatorship with the trappings of democracy.

On two key points, however, V-Dem’s and Levitsky/Way’s appraisal of electoral autocratic or competitive authoritarian rule in the Philippines may not be quite on the mark. 

For one, Duterte does not have supreme or absolute power, and may never even come close to it.  Duterte does not have control over the military. He has tried his best to woo the generals with funds and retired generals with government positions – one third of his cabinet are from the military. The military top brass, however, has been unhappy with Duterte’s rapprochement with China and recently forced him to back off from his threat of terminating the Visiting Forces Agreement with the US. 

As Rappler’s Carmela Fonbuena has reported, the Anti-Terror Law is a brainchild and pet project of military and police generals, who have found the Human Security Act of 2007 too cumbersome in fighting terrorists. In a sense, the Anti-Terror Law is Duterte’s gift to the military. Both Duterte and the military could benefit from this law for their own ends. But it is unlikely that the military – and the US – would agree to letting Duterte assume absolute power or extend his stay in power.  

The other problem with the V-Dem and Levistsky/Way position on the Philippines is that, following their line of reasoning, Duterte, as the electoral autocrat or competitive authoritarian ruler, or his party or coalition should easily be able to stay in power through unfair elections and continue autocratic/ authoritarian rule. 

For now, Duterte’s patronage network has managed to maintain a huge majority for the administration in both houses of Congress. However, with Duterte constitutionally barred from running for reelection and with the 2022 presidential elections fast approaching, realignments are forthcoming. Duterte’s patronage network will break up into several pyramids of patronage under “presidentiables” who have their own agenda and may not be all that loyal or beholden to him. They will be competing not just among themselves but also against opposition “presidentiables.”     

If Duterte wants to make sure that his successor will carry on with the current dispensation and not put him behind bars for human rights abuses, he would have to cobble together a broad coalition behind his anointed one in the 2022 presidential elections and ensure the latter’s victory through fair or foul means. Certainly not an easy task. Even if Duterte’s candidate does win, it would be unlikely that he or she would have as much charisma or populist appeal to bring about and sustain electoral autocracy or competitive authoritarianism. 

Duterte is now encountering hurdles in his authoritarian drive as perhaps never before. A wide range of groups have come forward to register strong opposition to the Anti-Terror Law and other recent authoritarian moves of Duterte – human rights groups, activist organizations, opposition parties, religious leaders, top universities, business groups, mass media, lawyers groups, etc.  Although Duterte continues to poll high approval ratings, the growing resistance to his authoritarian ways may not only help preclude dictatorship with an electoral guise, but also reverse autocratization to democratization. – Rappler.com

Nathan Gilbert Quimpo is an adjunct professor (semi-retired) at the University of Tsukuba and Hosei University (Tokyo) in Japan. He is the author of Contested Democracy and the Left in the Philippines after Marcos and co-author of Subversive Lives: A Family Memoir of the Marcos Years.

Pirmado na ang anti-terrorism law. Matakot na tayo. Narito ang limang dahilan.

Una, puwede ka nang matiktikan ng 3 na buwan sa ilalim ng Republic Act 11479. Hindi isang linggo o isang buwan – kundi 60 araw na pwedeng i-extend nang 30 araw. Lahat ng pwedeng mahalungkat sa iyong mga smart phone, laptop ay router – ay pwede madiskubre sa 3 na buwan. Lahat ng sambitin mong kataga, pwede marinig ng estado.

Pangalawa, Puwede kang maaresto nang walang warrant of arrest. 

Pangatlo, ang organisasyong kinabibilangan mo ay puwede nang madeklarang terorista. At hindi na kailangan ng korteng magsasabi nito – sapat na ang pasya ng Anti-Terrorism Council na binubuo ng mga tauhan ng gobyerno (kasama ang kalihim ng hustisya) at hindi na mga hukom.

Pang-apat, puwede kang maditene nang 24 araw. Kung hindi ka nahanapan ng incriminating evidence sa pag-eespiya sa ‘yo, malamang ikanta mo iyon sa loob ng 24 na araw sa ilalim ng interogasyon at hindi malayo – tortyur. At walang magagawa ang writ of habeas corpus sa ganitong sitwasyon. 

Pang-lima, puwedeng pabuksan ng Council ang iyong bank account, kunin ang laman nito at i-sequester ang iyong mga ari-arian. 

'Killer provision'

Sabi ng mga tagapagtanggol ng batas, may mga bahagi namang naggagarantiya na hindi ito gagamitin laban sa mga bumabatikos sa pamahalaan. 

Pero kapag binusisi mo ito, meron itong killer provision: kapag may intensyon ka umanong manakit o maglagay ng kapwa mo sa panganib – terorismo na ito. Hindi kailangan ng aksyon mula sa iyo – sapat nang may mga barkada kang kahina-hinala. Sapat na ang interpretasyon ng pulisya sa balak mo. 

At sa ilalim ng batas, ang burden of proof ay wala na sa prosekusyon kundi sa nasasakdal. Isang malaking kabalintunaan ng batas na kailangan mong patunayan na wala kang "terroristic intent."

Samakatuwid, puwede kang ituring na terorista kapag namuna ka, tumutol, nang-akusa, o lumahok sa organisasyon o aktibidad na pinaghihinalaang may "intensyong manakit."

Intensyon ang nakamamatay na salita. Walang konkreto sa intensyon. Nakabatay lahat ito sa interpretasyon ng mga alipores ni Duterte.

'Parallel' sa Hong Kong

At hindi lang ‘yan nangyayari sa Pilipinas. Kailan lang ay ipinasa sa Hong Kong ang bagong national security law na kumikitil sa natitirang kalayaan sa economic hub.

Kalimutan na ang mga pangako noong 1997 handover na “50 years no change.” 23 taon pa lang ay binabaligtad na ang mga Western-style democracy sa dating British territory: bawal ang mga bagay na maitituring na subersibo, may hibo ng pagsasarili o secession, terorismo, at pakikipagkontsabahan sa mga dayuhan. Walang duda na nagarote na ang kalayaang sibil at malayang pamamahayag sa Hong Kong. 

Mukhang hindi makapaghihintay ng 50 taon ang Beijing bago hatawin ng sinturon ang suwail na anak na mahilig sumagot at sumalungat. Hindi rin makatulog nang mahimbing ang Communist Party ng China hangga't hindi sakop ng mga istriktong – sabi ng iba'y mapaniil na – batas nito ang Hong Kong na gateway sa Mainland China. 

Bilang ehemplo – nang naganap ang Tiananmen Square masaker na pumatay ng libong estudyanteng Tsino, mabilis na pinatay ang mitsa ng demokratikong adhikain at pagtutol ilang buwan ang makalipas. Sa kabilang banda, ilang taong namayagpag ang mga pro-democracy activists noon pa lang Umbrella Movement ng 2014, at lalo pang yumabong noong 2019 sa paglaban sa extradition bill. 

Pero umeskapo na mula sa Tsina ang maraming aktibistang pro-democracy nito – senyales na wala na silang naaaninag na pag-asa.

At hindi kataka-takang magkakambal ang tadhana ng PiIipinas at Hong Kong: masidhing nililigawan ng Beijing si Pangulong Duterte upang maging sidekick laban sa Kanluran.

Naghihingalong demokrasya

Muli, “dissent is duty, not a crime.” Hindi krimen ang pumalag at bumatikos. Sa katunayan, katungkulan nating punahin ang mga maling nakikita natin sa lipunan at sa bayan. Krusyal ito sa malusog na demokrasya.

Habang ang COVID-19 ang pinakasikat na export ng Tsina, tila inexport din nito ang kultura ng panunupil na niyakap ng pamahalaang Duterte. 

Kung lantaran ang national security law ng Hong Kong, disimulado ang anti-terror law. Sabi ni Antonio Carpio, dating hukom ng Korte Suprema, hindi na kailangan ng batas militar dahil masahol pa ito sa batas militar. (BASAHIN: The Anti-Terror Act is worse than Martial Law)

Ayon kay Carpio, nilapastangan ng RA 11479 ang isang saligang haligi ng demokrasya: na hindi tayo makukulong nang basta-basta. Tinawag ito ng Konstitusyon na “inviolable” – isang karapatang hindi puwede man lang galusan. 

Pero sa bisa ng bagong batas, ’sanlibong taga ang tinatamo nito. Iyan ang “a thousand cuts” ng kalayaan.   

Masakit mang aminin, nagtagumpay ang puwersa ng panunupil sa pagpapasa ng mga batas na ito sa Hong Kong at Pilipinas.

Sabi nga ng isang manunulat noong panahon ng American revolution na si Thomas Paine, "These are the times that try men’s souls." Sabi rin niya, "Tyranny, like hell, is not easily conquered... what we obtain too cheap, we esteem too lightly."

'Yan ang kalayaang ipinagwalang-bahala natin matapos mapatalsik ang diktador. Malinaw na hindi tayo natuto.

Pagsubok ng kaluluwa, pagtutuos sa tadhana – maraming maaaring itawag sa yugtong ito. Pero isang bagay lang ang kahahantungan niyan at dapat nating tanggapin.

Wala nang middle ground. Hindi na puwedeng maupo sa bakod at manood lang. Malinaw na ang puti at itim. Pagkilos ba o pananahimik? Panahon na upang mamili. #CourageON – Rappler.com 

As someone in training to become a priest, obedience is a must for me. And I do not see it as something that denies my God-given freedom. In fact, I see obedience as a virtue that allows me to be truly free.

In my reading of St. Thomas Aquinas, freedom is not simply the capacity to do anything I want. Rather, freedom is more of doing what is good and just, which, in the end, leads to the fullness of goodness and justice that is God.

This explains why laws are created to regulate freedom. Laws are meant to secure our individual and collective liberties so that goodness and justice may actually reign. And as citizens who aspire for a good and just society, we are morally obliged to submit to them.

But as part of a community aspiring for goodness and justice, I am of the opinion that we are morally obliged to condemn, defy, and (though this may now be punishable) revolt against the Anti-Terrorism Law of 2020 signed by President Rodrigo Duterte.

Behind the trappings of a terrorist crackdown is an apparent move to silence dissent, dissent against a government in desperate need of checks and balances. 

This anti-terror bill, long hoped for by Duterte's men – who are mostly retired military and police bosses – was meant to purge the 51-year-old communist insurgency, which kept on surviving despite Ferdinand Marcos' martial law and repeated pronouncements that Maoist rebels would be quashed at the end of every year. (READ: ‘Terror law’: The pet bill of the generals)

But as with our previous bout with martial law, it is likely that the Communist Party of the Philippines-New People's Army (CPP-NPA) will not be the only ones enduring deadly blows, but all Filipino people, whose democratic rights and civil liberties are under threat.

Among the definitions of terrorism spelled in the soon-to-be implemented law is  to “provoke or influence by intimidation the government.” This makes it easy for the likes of Interior Secretary Eduardo Año, or Senator Bato Dela Rosa, or Communications Undersecretary Lorraine Badoy – or Rigoberto Tiglao, for that matter – to red-tag or finger anyone as a "terrorist" for sharing thoughts synonymous with those pushed by the Reds, from land reform to Duterte being a terrorist himself. 

The anti-terror law, while packaged as something that secures the public against real terrorists, has the potential of violating human rights and political and civil liberties. After all, Defense Secretary Delfin Lorenzana once argued that national security is more important than human rights. (By the way, national security is not an end in itself. It is meant to serve and protect the well-being of the people, as enshrined in our Bill of Rights. Perhaps the good secretary has to be reminded of this fundamental principle.)

Along with press freedom, critical thinking or the exercise of academic freedom might soon be acts of terrorism, too. Remember the so-called Red October plot back in 2018, when a number of universities were assailed as communist recruitment hubs? Or when then-Police Chief Oscar Albayalde said that professors "instigating" "rebellious" ideas could be "charged for contempt?" And yes, we have a senator who fails to distinguish the difference between a student activist and an NPA combatant. (READ: Albayalde asks: Why do state university students 'go against' government?)

Beyond the anti-terror law and threats to free expression are other issues that have haunted the Filipino people in the last 4 years under Duterte, and all these undermine what laws are supposedly for: a just and good society expressed through democracy, human rights, and self-determination.

Some of these other issues are:

1. The killings due to the war on drugs and the killings of activists and farmers alleged to have links with the NPA, which have seemingly numbed our collective conscience when it comes to murder;

2. The economic trends that keeps on marginalizing the marginalized. For instance, the unemployment boom which has recently reached an all-time high due to the global pandemic, as well as the phasing out of traditional jeepneys, which affects thousands of drivers and operators who cannot afford the demands of modernization;

3. The absence of mass testing measures against the spread of the coronavirus disease, which does not seem to be a priority despite mounting cases, and;

4. The failure to protect our waters and our fishermen from Chinese intrusions despite our internationally-held sovereignty over the West Philippine Sea. (READ: PH Coast Guard files criminal cases vs HK ship crew)

As I've mentioned, it is because of freedom that justice and goodness are possible and, thus, have to be pursued. To make this so, laws are in order to realize these aspirations.

But Aquinas cautioned that "the force of a law depends on the extent of its justice" and that if it goes against such purpose "it is no longer a law but a perversion of law."

And such is the case with the anti-terror law, as the motives behind it are meant to silence dissent. Even our freedom and constitutional right to have our own political beliefs, which allow us to hope for a more moral society, might color us as terrorists! 

Jesus, in the Gospel, said that if a hand causes you to sin, it has to be cut off. This means that things that enable immorality have to be fought and abolished. This could probably apply to a system, to a regime, that enables immorality and insults freedom. After all, enablers of such a system must be the real terrorists all along.

Obedience to laws or rules mean well. But if reason proves that a given law is perverted, defiance becomes a form of obedience to God, the just lawgiver. – Rappler.com

Ted Tuvera earned his journalism degree from the University of Santo Tomas. He worked as a journalist, covering a major beat for a national daily for 3 years, and is currently a seminarian in the Archdiocese of Capiz.

Tsuper ng dyip, tagapagsalita ng STARTER, pangrehiyong balangay ng PISTON, at kaanib ng Anakpawis Party-list si Ka Elmer. Gaya ng iba pang drayber, na maagang tamaan ng sakit sa tuhod, balakang, at iba pang bahagi ng katawan, napapagal rin ang katawan niya dahil sa maghapong byahe. Idagdag pa diyan ang pagpapagal na bahagi na ng hamon ng paglilingkod bilang tagapagsalita ng sektor ng transportasyon. Bagamat sa Laguna ang ruta ni Ka Elmer, nakakaabot siya sa iba pang lalawigan ng Timog Katagalugan para tulungan at turuan ang kapwa nya drayber at maliliit na opereytor sa kinahaharap na usapin sa transportasyon. Abot din siya hanggang Kamaynilaan sa pagsama sa mga pagkilos para ipagtanggol ang mamamayan. (READ: 2 Piston jeepney drivers positive for coronavirus)

Maaasahang lider. Suki ng mga lehitimong pagkilos. Mahusay sa paggampan ng tungkulin. Ganyan si Ka Elmer. Tulad ng libo-libong dyip at mga drayber nito – lagi nating hinahanap at kinakailangan; hindi tayo binibigo. Pero gaya rin ng lahat ng "hari ng lansangan," hindi pinahahalagahan at mababa kung turingan, lalo na ng gubyerno ni Rodrigo Duterte. 

Sa kalagitnaan ng pandemya, ipinagdiwang ni Ka Elmer ang kanyang ika-50 kaarawan. Isang taon na naman ng pakikibaka at pakikipagsapalaran ang nagdaan. Isang taon – na ang dalangin niya ay lakas para patuloy na maglingkod sa bayan, at patuloy ring lakas ng nagkakaisang mamamayan. Habang nagdiriwang ng kaarawan, ang paggunita ng nagdaang panahon ay may kaakibat na pag-aalala sa nagdurusang mga drayber at komyuter na pinababayaan na ng ating pamahalaan. Kaisa siya sa matinding galit natin sa pagpapasa ng Anti-Terror Law at iba pang patakaran na inuna pa ng gubyerno sa halip na kalingain ang taumbayan. Kaisa siya sa ating daing: Bakit nga ba ang mga "hari ng lansangan" nauwi sa panlilimos ng pangangailangan! (READ: IN PHOTOS: ‘My jeepney, our home’)

Hulyo 4. Isang araw matapos lagdaan ni Duterte ang Anti-Terror Act of 2020, sumama siya sa pagkilos sa harap ng Pulo Barangay Hall (Cabuyao City, Laguna) kung saan halos nakakampo na ang mga militar ng 2nd Infantry Division mula nang tumindi ang pandemya at bago pa man ang pagratsada sa Mababang Kamara ng HB 6875. Minamananan at nililigalig nila ang malapit na Anakpawis Timog Katagalugan Office. 

Sa gitna ng ulan, nangahas si Ka Elmer kasama ng iba pa na mariing tutulan ang pagsupil sa karapatan at paggunaw ng natitira pang demokrasya sa bansa. Nang matapos ang kanilang programa, inilabas na nga ng pulis at militar ang mas matinding bangis ng pasismo dahil sa Anti-Terror Act. Sinugod ng mga pwersa ng estado ang mga raliyista.

Sinakal si Ka Elmer. Kinaladkad sa gitna ng kalsada. Dinahas. Sugatan ang kanyang tuhod, binti, at braso.

Maggagabi na noon. Ilang oras na lang, curfew na naman. Sinamantala ng sandatahang pwersa ang pagkakataon para dakpin sila at ipiit. Hibang nilang nilalayon na pahinain ang lakas ng katawan at kalooban ni Ka Elmer at ng mga aktibista. 

Pero nagdaan ang mahigit 8 oras, at pinag-iisipan pa rin ni Lt. Col. Reycom Garduque kung ano ang ikakaso sa kanya at sa 10 pa niyang kasama. Samantala, sa inilabas na medico-legal at mga niresetang gamot sa kanila, malinaw ang ebidensya ng nangyaring karahasan laban sa kanila. May 24 oras na silang nakapiit ngayon, at binawalang kausapin ng mga dalaw.

Walang ibang tinuturo ang karanasang ito kundi ang katotohanan ng paghahari ng tiraniya at terorismo ng estado sa ilalim ni Rodrigo Duterte. Ang katotohanang kung sino pa ang nagtatanggol ng karapatan ay sila pang pinarurusahan at sinusupil. Ang katotohanang kung sino ang maysala at nasa awtoridad ay silang malayang nakakagawa ng kanilang kabuktutan. Ang katotohanang sa ilalim ng rehimeng ito, matagal nang pinabayaan at gusto nang kitlan ng buhay at kabuhayan ang mga tsuper at maliliit na opereytor.

Tama na! Labis-labis na! Wakasan na!

Tayo naman ang hinahamon ng panahon. Ipagtanggol natin ang siyang nagtatanggol ng atin. Ipagtanggol natin si Ka Elmer! (READ: How to help jeepney drivers affected by the coronavirus lockdown)

Sama-sama nating isulong ang karapatan at kagalingan nating mga tsuper, opereytor, at iba pang nasa sektor ng transportasyon. Isanib natin ang ating lakas sa mga komyuter at lahat ng iba pang mamamayan sa pagsulong ng kalayaan at demokrasya. – Rappler.com 

Kobi Tolentino is a student of AB Philosophy. He advocates for the junking of the Anti Terror Act of 2020 as he believes it will lead to increased persecution against dissenters like him and the Cabuyao 11.

Editor's note: As of posting, Ka Elmer and his peers have been released for preliminary investigation.

Beijing’s campaign to seize the South China Sea has been patient, incremental, and subtle, involving small steps, false assurances of no further actions, and environmental destruction.

People’s Liberation Army (PLA) sources have told the South China Morning Post that Beijing intends to declare an Air Defense Identification Zone (ADIZ) over the South China Sea. Neither its boundaries nor the timing of its establishment was mentioned, but given the expansion of facilities on Fiery Cross Reef and recent staging of Airborne Early Warning and Marine Patrol Aircraft to the base there, the decision has already been made. Its execution simply awaits a propitious opportunity. That is, once President Xi calculates China can afford the likely international and regional reaction to the announcement, probably sometime after the US Presidential election, unless he feels the ADIZ will influence the election in China’s favor.

More importantly for Asia, the new ADIZ will enable China to monitor and justify intercepting and escorting air traffic over almost the entire South China Sea, although Xi may limit it to the northern South China Sea to avoid alarming Brunei, Indonesia, and Malaysia. Nonetheless, its formation will impact them in the future, if not immediately, since enforcing an ADIZ constitutes an exercise of national authority. Also, although neither the Philippines nor Vietnam actively enforce their respective ADIZ’s, China’s new ADIZ will overlap them and those countries’ South China Sea claims. Will China use its ADIZ to restrict flights into and out of those territories? Perhaps not initially, but when it wants to, it can use its ADIZ to justify doing so. (READ: Beijing continues South China Sea aggression during pandemic)

Deterring China will require all the affected nations to inform China they view a new ADIZ as an aggressive act that violates the Chinese's February 2014 statement that it had no intent to establish one in the South China Sea, and raises questions about the credibility of all Chinese promises and international agreements. Moreover, viewed in context with Xi’s actions in Hong Kong and China’s actions along the Sino-Indian border, it probably is a harbinger of future Chinese aggression.  

The announcement may surprise the uninformed when it is made, but most observers of Asian affairs have been expecting the move since China unilaterally expanded its ADIZ over the East China Sea in November 2013. As with the goal in that instance, it marks another stage of Xi’s slow march to control Asia’s primary air and maritime transit routes. Of course, as he did then, he will obscure his intentions by assuring the international and regional community that China will not interfere with international commerce despite requiring all aircraft to register their flights through the ADIZ with Beijing. He will also promise that he will not further expand China’s military facilities and presence there. Of course, as with all Xi promises, it only refers to his actions of the moment. It has no meaning for the future.  

Geopolitically, Xi effectively has positioned Chinese officials in UN bodies to mute any potential objections from affected international organizations. For example, the International Civil Aviation Organization that coordinates international air space and air travel issues is now led by Chinese official Fang Liu. China has also inserted Chinese officials throughout the UN’s key agencies at the time when the United States was disengaging from the organization. So there will not be any UN challenges to China's action. In fact, the UN has sponsored much of China’s “maritime research and survey” activities and “navigation system” construction in the South China Sea. It has also suborned international environmental groups such as Greenpeace to remain silent, as China’s construction crews dredged up and destroyed over 2.4 million hectares of sensitive “UN protected” marine environment to build and expand its artificial islands in and around the Spratly Islands. (READ: Pompeo urges ASEAN to call out Beijing's moves in South China Sea during pandemic)

Declaring an ADIZ and stationing forces to enforce it has serious regional and geo-strategic implications. In modern warfare, gaining control over the air space is a critical prerequisite to launching any military operation. China's establishment of an ADIZ will represent another step in China's campaign to seize control of the South China Sea. Beijing hopes to achieve that objective within the next 5 years. The Philippines and other regional countries must now determine how best to prevent China from achieving that objective, because seizing control of the South China Sea is but the maritime step in a much larger strategic goal: dominating Asia by 2050. 

Controlling the South China Sea will give China the ability to control air traffic over and maritime trade through it. Such control would enable China to constrain Vietnam’s and the Philippines’ shipping and impact much of Japan's, South Korea's, and Taiwan's mercantile trade. Going around the South China Sea adds 10-14 transit days to shipments to and from Europe and the Middle East, adding time and costs to those countries' economic interactions with those regions. China’s leverage over Japan’s and the Philippines’ trade will increase significantly if China is able to extend its reach into the Second Island Chain – something more easily achievable if Beijing conquers Taiwan. That is threat not easily dismissed, given China’s recent and expanding penetrations of Taiwan’s ADIZ and bellicose rhetoric about “forced reunification” with China. Invasion is not imminent but Chinese leaders are patient. Beijing’s rhetoric and actions today simply represent indications of intent and stepping stones, respectively for future action that lie years away.

Denying China its goals will require a unified and "whole of government" approach to pressuring Beijing. China employs a unified effort by all of its government and party agencies to achieve its goals.  Deterring its aggression will require the international community and ASEAN members to individually and collectively do the same. The United States needs to provide the leadership for that effort but recognize that each ASEAN member is a partner whose interests drive its decisions. Therefore, the focus must be driven by mutual concerns.

ASEAN's economies are strong and can serve as investment alternatives to China and the US, and others should resume their once-significant economic investment in ASEAN member countries. 

China's economic rise has been assisted by Western investment, cooperation, and collaboration and its economy is critical to Xi's hold on power. 

• All of Xi's actions are based on a calculation of cost versus benefit to China and his hold on power.  

• Raising the economic costs for his actions, is an important component to deterring his aggression.

Diplomatically: ASEAN members with South China Sea claims should work collectively to identify areas of cooperation in the South China Sea, particularly with respect to territorial disputes. The 2016 International Court of Arbitration provides an example. It validates Philippine claims and can do the same for the other ASEAN members. Perhaps, a combined presentation of ASEAN member countries' claims to the court might provide an internationally recognized basis for a unified ASEAN position and action. There is of course, a political risk, but the claimants will get a much fairer hearing and more just adjudication from the International Court of Arbitration than they will from China. Whatever the outcome, the results will be better than the current status quo, which China is challenging without respect to other countries' interests.

Resource development: Cooperation agreements on resource development enhance an international court position. Also, those agreements gain weight in the court of global public opinion when they gain the imprimatur of or conform to an international court decision. Court decisions also bolster any defense actions enacted individually or collectively to protect internationally recognized claims.

Militarily: ASEAN members should seek ways to bolster their defenses overall but especially in the South China Sea. The latter has to be done in a coordinated fashion to ensure the other members do not interpret it as a threat to their interests there. A united diplomatic campaign to adjudicate the territorial dispute will do much to further collective and bilateral trust.

ASEAN member countries also should consider publicizing the issue globally. China has done so, presenting its actions as correcting "imperialist wrongs" of past centuries. ASEAN members also suffered from those actions and they enjoy international credibility for their involvement in the Non-aligned Movement during the Cold War and their successful resistance to imperialism, an experience shared by many new countries 

• The message that will resonate among most global audiences: "Removing the vestiges of one imperialist age does not justify establishment of another."

• China is packaging the soured wine of imperialism in a new bottle. The taste is just as unsavory.

None of this is simple or easy, but a divided effort delivers victory to the aggressor and today's struggle is not about the present, but rather the Asia of 20 years hence. As his actions in Hong Kong and the South China Sea and elsewhere have demonstrated, Xi's assurances and promises have no meaning.  His actions mirror those of 20th century aggressors who took the world to war over 70 years; early aggressions were small, insignificant, and followed by promises of no further aggression. Then came larger acts of aggression, greater suppression at home, and more assurances of no further planned aggression. 

The path ahead is dark and uncertain, but the worst consequence can be prevented by a united effort founded in mutual concerns, and supported but not driven by the United States and other outside powers. No nation is omnipotent and every aggressor retreats if the cost and consequences of their aggression exceed what they can afford if they want to remain in power. Xi is no different. – Rappler.com

When I was a young faculty member of an educational institution, I used to look forward to attending seminars to quench my thirst for development. Even way back during my student council days, representing your school in seminar-workshops, especially in Manila, were among the top things we typical “probinsyanos” considered as somewhat an achievement and source of pride.

Seminars and workshops aim to serve as avenues to improve employee productivity, enhance pedagogical development for teachers, and inspire people to do good in their institutions. However, some scholars have criticized this age-old model of delivering information, and some have started to ask the big questions: What happens once everybody goes back to their institutions? Also, more pointedly: How come the same problems exist despite the battery of seminars?

Corporatization of seminars

Notably, almost all government institutions conduct seminars and trainings monthly, from the administrative level to the rank-and-file personnel, for their professional growth. However, despite the promise of seminars to integrate their lessons into practice, they have just become a business.

These lavish and unnecessary trainings have even caught the eye of the Commission on Audit (COA), prompting the commission to revisit activities conducted by government institutions. In 2013, the COA questioned the Cebu City Government’s holding of trainings and seminars in hotels and resorts in 2012, which totaled P11,697,693 in expenses. The COA also questioned the Commission on Human Rights (CHR) on their spending in 2017, amounting to P5,404,543.80, for trainings, seminars, and workshops held in different hotels in and outside Metro Manila. Likewise, the Department of Education (DepEd) spent P316.62 million on trainings and other activities allegedly held in resorts and tourist spots. Despite the call to exercise prudence, economy, and reasonableness, the ostentatious use of public revenues has persisted. (READ: COA raises red flags over P1.3-M OSG training, seminars in 'expensive' venues)

This obsession with extravagant but often unnecessary seminars can be linked to consumerism – luxury hotels and resorts are king. For example, why do most leadership seminars take place in Baguio? Moreover, why do most of them fall in November, December, January, and February? The said months are cold months; the more touristy, the more attractive. The more lavish, the better. People often get awestruck by the venue and disconnect from the essence of their seminars.

There are also times when the resource persons turn seminars into business opportunities. Of course, speaking as an “expert” comes at a price, but why can't these so-called experts solve the problems they discuss, despite their repetitive tackling of these topics? Perhaps because we mistakenly believe that "it will get worse before it gets better," so we keep coming back to them for more. 

Alienation from the profession

The point system for promotion turns professionals irrational. Under the guise of professional development, local, national, and international seminars have equivalent points. This is also true for the various research conferences that have been sprouting like mushrooms. Lots of conferences do not even screen the participants' papers and just accept them, since the greater the number of participants, the more profits the organizers enjoy. You even need to pay for your research to be published in their journals.

All of this is a product of this point system. It has led to an avalanche of research papers and seminars full of bad science. People go to the seminar just for points and listen to speakers who babble out-of-topic, or worse, parrot information you can just Google yourself. If you want proof, try to attend a seminar-workshop, get the gist of its topic, and start searching on Google. You will be shocked. 

Still, seminar attendants will deny this truth, because they enjoy the feeling of the institution valuing them. This is what we call a "mechanism of social control," which instills passivity because of investment. Needless to say, "capacity building" is an overused term, and opportunists have altered its essence for business and compliance.

Centralized concept of decision-making

The majority of the decision-making in a seminar comes from the administrators and is cascaded to their personnel. However, this is a classic mistake. These executives or administrators will not do any of the legwork anyway. One of the main reasons why problems continue to persist despite so many seminars is that executives do not consult the grassroots implementers to begin with.

Take, for example, the K-12 curricula. Before its implementation, the DepEd gave a series of seminar-workshops, but these did not address perennial issues such as the lack of facilities in remote areas and the situations of teachers. Likewise, the DepEd has not corrected the practice of promoting students despite their academic handicaps, as the agency did not listen to teachers. This led to our country ranking lowest in the 2018 Program for International Student Assessment (PISA).

Non multa sed multum

During lectures, an average adult can retain 10% of what they hear; this strategy is an information-centric approach to learning. While this solves the problem of producing learning, it does not solve the problem of learning itself. Why? Because some speakers do not contextualize what they say. They do not customize the content for their participants. They try to do too many things, and they do not have quality goals and objectives. (READ: 6 tips: Asking good questions at meetings, seminars)

Seminars are great morale boosters but fail to create lasting change. Participants are likely to remember how lackluster the speaker was, how many punchlines he delivered, or how picturesque the venue was, but not the goals of the program.

Filipinos have developed a culture wherein simplicity is looked down upon. We look for vanity rather than quality, and are only after compliance. We do not monitor results. Too many seminars mean unnecessary expenses, funds that could have been used to budget other projects.

I think we need to start thinking seriously about the quality of the seminars we attend. This pandemic has actually reshaped the current system of “pa-seminar” in our country, rendering these events in hotels or resorts and other tourist destinations as unnecessary. 

We Filipinos have always believed that seminars are the solution to institutional problems. But because seminars focus on an information-centric approach, administrators forget the fundamental part of metacognition: reflection. Executives do not reflect; they impose, and they think this solves the problem. Then, after the seminar, people slide back into their comfort zones and you do not see the change in behavior you are looking for. Indeed, a seminar is only a change in your routine, but it does not change you. – Rappler.com 

Sensei M. Adorador is in the faculty of the College of Education at Carlos Hilado Memorial State College, Negros Occidental. He is a member of the Congress of Teachers and Educators for Nationalism and Democracy (CONTEND).

Fifteen days after its publication in the Official Gazette, the controversial and much-opposed Republic Act 11479 or the “Anti-Terrorism Act of 2020” is set to take effect. While it was framed by the administration as a measure to address terrorism and related threats, its content goes beyond the conventional understanding of “terrorism” and so pervasive that it can cover acts of dissents and legitimate free expressions otherwise guaranteed by the Constitution.  

While there are firm assurances from the law’s main proponents that the law will not curtail constitutional rights or be abused, in the ground, legislative intent and actual enforcement could turn to two different animals. In fact, statements from some of the President Rodrigo Duterte’s most trusted men are revealing the real motive for its instantaneous passage while the country was (still is) scrambling to survive the pandemic. (READ: [OPINION] Martial rule without martial law: An anti-terror bill subtext)

National Security Adviser Secretary Hermogenes Esperon, in a virtual press briefing on Saturday, July 4, eerily said:

Kung tahimik naman sila, huwag sila mababahala. Kung ang pakay mo bilang aktibista ay magsaad ng iyong mga hinaing, social injustices, or request for better treatment or ideas, papayagan natin ‘yan.

The statement is pregnant with implications.

First, it is a cold and an unmistakable warning that people are “safer” when they stay silent.

Second, Esperon assumes that it is for him to tell which statements will be allowed or not. 

It appears from Esperon’s statement that it is the Duterte government’s assumption that the Anti-Terrorism Act has not only authorized censorship, but it made them censors. That he makes that assumption reeks of constitutional ignorance, but we appreciate his candid revelation that, to the administration’s mind, the law is not just about “terrorism” but a weapon to curtail dissents, as its critics have accurately pointed out.

These dangerous statements constituting as “administrative interpretation” should be useful to those who will go to the Supreme Court to question the constitutionality of the law.

Now, pending the Supreme Court battle and the impending effectivity of the law, what should the people do? Should they be “silent” so they won’t be accused as terrorists, as suggested by Esperon? Should they delete their old posts or make their accounts private? (READ: More petitions to come: Supreme Court battle vs anti-terror law starts)

Laws, particularly criminal laws, are supposed to be prospective in application. To further stoke the public’s seeming affinity for Latin maxims, one cardinal rule in criminal prosecution is “nullum crimen, nulla poena sine lege.” This means that there is no crime where there is no law punishing it. This means that criminal laws cannot be applied retroactively and this means that the Anti-Terrorism Act cannot be made to apply to tweets or posts made before its effectivity. 

But how about Maria Ressa’s cyber libel case, one may ask? We must note that Maria’s case is unique as the judge pegged its conviction not on the date of the original publication on May 29, 2012, but on the supposed “re-publication” of the subject article on February 19, 2014, which was made after the effectivity of the Anti-Cyber Crime Law in September 2012.  

However, in future posts, please be aware that the prosecution cannot be stopped from using one’s old tweets or posts to establish motive or the continuity of the thought adjudged to be criminal or as proof of premeditation.  

Is making an account private an option? We have to note that the privacy of a post is not a defense in criminal suits and neither is it exculpatory or mitigating, although limiting posts to trusted friends and followers would significantly reduce the risk of getting in trouble for it. But, at the same time, this would defeat the purpose of free speech, which is to speak openly and without fear of consequence, to the end that the speech will reach more people and let it reverberate in the public sphere.   

The best precaution, however, is for one to exercise maximum prudence in posting on their social media pages and to be always aware of the consequences. People should now remember that, while our constitutional guarantees remain,the “rules of engagement” are no longer the same. With this government repeatedly proving itself impervious to dissent and even social media humor, even obvious jests and jokes can easily be taken as security threats.

The simple point is that one should always be mindful that whatever public statements one makes should be defensible in court. Legitimate, truthful, and fair criticism of government actions are easily defensible, but publicly calling for the assassination of the President even in the context of a joke would be inviting a disaster. In other words, this is not the time to be stupid or reckless. 

How about liking, retweeting, or sharing critical posts or commenting on them? In Disini vs. Secretary of Justice (G.R. No. 203335, February 11, 2014), the Supreme Court has characterized these actions as “essentially knee-jerk sentiments of readers who may think little or haphazardly of their response to the original posting.” The criminal mind assigned to the original author seem to have been suggested by the court to be not equal to those who just like, share, retweet, or comment on it – thus, not sharing the criminal liability of the original author. While this can be assuring for now, things can quickly change. 

People also need to rethink how they can strategically and safely continue to protest and dissent given the boundaries set by the Anti-Terrorism Act. In Hong Kong, activists have resorted to wordplay, coded language, and other creative ways to voice dissent after Beijing adopted a new security law which, just like ours, has broadly banned subversion, secession, terrorism, and foreign collusion. One graffiti, for example, declares, “Arise, ye who refuse to be slaves.” This sentence is the first line of China’s national anthem, but doubles as an obvious declaration of dissent to Beijing. 

If one feels the need to add layers of protection, or that increased privacy is not an option, he or she can opt for anonymity – anonymous email addresses and “alter” or anonymous social media accounts. VPN, which is available for cheap monthly rates, can also be used to mask locations and clean-up traces. And, finally, avoid popular keywords in tweets or make them less searchable to government regulators. 

While it can be argued that the fear of the Anti-Terrorism Act is all speculative at this point, please be aware that, within the text of the law, the government has arrogated upon itself draconian powers that can easily be wielded to suppress free speech and internet freedom as we know it. Things can remain as they are, sure, but the cruel fact that everyone needs to know is that the extent of our right to free speech now hangs on the restraint of the government in exercising these draconian powers.

And speaking of restraint and tolerance of dissent, the record of this government is not that assuring. Thus, with the effectivity of the Anti-Terrorism Law in less than two weeks as of this posting, the public has to quickly rethink how they can strategically and safely continue to protest and dissent given this new “normal.” – Rappler.com 

Emil Marañon III is an election lawyer specializing in automated election litigation and consulting. He is one of the election lawyers consulted by the camp of Vice President Leni Robredo. Marañon served in Comelec as chief of staff of retired Comelec Chairman Sixto Brillantes Jr. He graduated from the SOAS, University of London, where he studied Human Rights, Conflict, and Justice as a Chevening scholar. He is a partner at Trojillo Ansaldo and Marañon (TAM) Law Offices.  

May kinagalitan ako noong isang araw. Dati kong estudyante sa isang state university. Nakita kong nakikipagtalo sa online comments section ng isang pahayagan. Mahaba ang thread at, obviously, walang intensiyon na malinawan ang katalo, na minumura na at iniinsulto ang dati kong estudyanteng hindi maiwasang hindi mapikon. Gumaganti sa diskursong marumi pa sa burak ng kanal sa isang baradong estero sa Kalakhang Maynila ngayong tag-ulan.

Pinuntahan ko ang profile ng kaniyang katalo. Walang laman. Bukod pa rito ang pangalang malinaw namang alias lang. Nag-private message ako sa dati kong mag-aaral. Tigilan na niya, 'ka ko, ang pakikipagtalo dahil troll ang kabatuhan ng masasakit na salita. Walang mangyayari sa kahit anong paliwanag. Ang intensiyon lang ay galitin ang dati kong estudyante, at siguro ang iba pang organic account na makukursunadahan.  

Hindi, 'ka ko, tatanggapin ang argumento kahit gaano pa kalinaw, dahil wala namang intensiyon talagang malinawan sa simula pa lang. Humingi ng paumanhin sa akin ang estudyanteng, 'buti naman, hindi nagmaliw ang respeto sa akin bilang dati niyang propesor. Sabi ko, burahin din ang kaniyang unang comment nang mabura ang buong thread. Sumunod naman. Nagpaalala pa ako: isang screengrab lang ang katapat ng gumagamit ng tunay na pangalan sa social media. Hahatakin pababa ang pagkatao, iinsultuhin, at kapag napikon ka’t nagmura, hindi mo na alam ang mangyayari sa nakabuyangyang mong pangalan at birtuwal na pagkatao. (READ: [OPINION] A letter to the men and women behind paid trolls in the Philippines)

May ipinagtapat naman sa akin ang isang kaibigang propesor. Dalawa ang kaniyang account sa Twitter. Ang isa, nakapangalan daw sa kaniya. Ang isa, hindi; pambalatengga sa mga kumokontra sa kaniyang hinahangaang artista. Hindi niya ginagamit ang totoong pangalan sa pagko-comment dahil nakalagay doon ang pangalan ng institusyon pati na ang kaniyang pamilya at mga tweet na maingat na binalangkas bago ini-upload. Pero iba raw siya kapag gamit ang virtual alter-ego. Marumi pa sa pundilyo ng diyablo kung ipaglaban at banatan ang mga kumokontra sa iniidolo niyang kontrobersiyal na artista.  

Marami pang umamin sa akin. May isa naman akong kaibigan, ibang social media account ang gamit sa bidding wars sa comment section. Para raw hindi malaman ng kaniyang asawa na nagbi-bid siya ng mga vintage watch na patago rin ang delivery kung siya ang mananalo. 

Ang common denominator ng mga binanggit ko, maliban sa dati kong estudyante, may spare social media account sila na para lang sa comments section.  

May isang gusto pa ngang magpahiram o ibigay sa akin ang isa sa kaniyang maraming account. Kaysa raw gamitin ko ang sarili kong pangalan sa tuwing magko-comment ako – na karaniwan ay sarcasm na hindi mage-gets ng iba kaya hahaba ang thread, uulanin ako ng mura at galit at insulto – sa mga pahayagan. Tinanggihan ko ang alok. Maingat naman ako sa mga comment-comment kahit pa sarcastic. Bihira akong mag-engage, lalo’t wala agad sa hulog ang magko-comment sa comment ko.

Comment nga ba sa nabasa?

Noong nagsusulat pa ako para sa isang online news site ng isang major network noong hindi pa nawe-weaponize ang social media, may natuklasan ako. Taong 2015 ito nang sumulat ako ng isang artikulo tungkol sa isang "senatoriable" na iginisa ng isang host sa isang public affairs program sa telebisyon. Tumanyag ang nasabing isyu dahil sa napaka-awkward na sitwasyong walang maisagot na makabuluhan ang "senatoriable" sa matalinong pagtatanong ng host. 

Nag-trending ang interview. Sumulat ako. Ang pamagat ng aking artikulo ay, with all the sarcasm I could muster, “Tigilan na si <insert pangalan ng senatoriable na walang katorya-torya>.”

Laman ng aking opinyon ang paliwanag ko sa dynamics ng name recall sa halalan. Na makatutulong sa kandidato ang name recall, at malaking bagay ito para mapag-usapan hanggang eleksiyon dahil maaari, 'ka ko, niyang magamit ang appeal to emotion sa kaapihang tinanggap mula sa may mataas na antas ng kukote functions. That it can very well be a platform for appeal; na nangyari, at patuloy na nangyayari’t sinasamantala, sa ating bansa. Ilan na ba ang nailuklok nating bukod sa hindi na nga nakatapos ng high school ay mistulang ipinagmamalaki pa ang pagiging bopol? Nagkakaroon ng fighting chance ang mga ganoong uri ng kandidatong nakasalig sa pagpapaawa ang paraan ng pagkuha ng simpatiya, and, eventually, ng boto (at pondo kapag nanalo?). It’s nice to be proven wrong, though, dahil natalo ang kandidatong ito.

Bueno, ano ang nangyari nang lumabas ang artikulo sa social media platform ng network? Nag-viral, nag-trending lalo. Sa loob ng isang araw, noong hindi pa uso ang industrialized troll-comment processing zone, noong bibihira pa ang naka-mobile data subscription at hindi pa masyadong smart ang smartphones, nagkaroon ng mahigit 30,000 shares at 2,000 comments ang artikulo. Lahat, maliban sa 8 (oo, binilang at binasa kong isa-isa), ay nagkomento batay lamang sa pamagat ng artkulo ko. (READ: When trolls and propagandists occupy the Internet)

Sa 8 nagbasa, ang isang comment ay tuwang-tuwa dahil ang dami nang sinabi ng mga tao pero walang nag-abalang magbasa sa buong artikulo. Dahil batay sa pamagat, akala ng mga nagkomentong pamagat lang ang binasa, campaign manager o PR ako ng kandidato.

Doon lumiwayway sa akin ang isang uri ng sub-platform na nakakabit sa mas malaking social media platform: ang comments section, lalo ng mga pahayagan, na gaya ng pahayagan kung saan ninyo nababasa ito ngayon. 

Binigyang katuturan ni Tarleton Gillespie ng Communication Department ng Cornell University sa kaniyang sanaysay na "The Politics of Platform" na nalathala sa A Companion to New Media Dynamics (Wiley Blackwell, 2015) ang structural platform sa internet bilang “a raised level surface designed to facilitate some activity.... It implies a progressive and egalitarian arrangement, an implicit promise to support those who stand upon it (409).” Ang ganda. Maayos. Malaya.  

Ngunit ang hindi na-preempt ng mga paham ng akademya, lalo iyong walang ideya sa social media dynamism sa bansa, ay ang pag-usbong ng isang sub-platform na tuntungan din ng mga tao upang magpahayag ng kanilang ideya na dati’y eksklusibo lang sa mga letter-to-the-editor section ng pahayagan. May “egalitarian arrangement” ang comment section – malayang makapagpahayag ang mga tao, real-time, for better or for worse, nang hindi na kailangan pang lumiham sa mga editor.  

Mabuti ang layunin ng comments section. Malalaman sana ang pulso ng gadget-toting Pinoy hinggil sa inilathalang balita o opinyon. O kahit sa quotation lamang ng mga sangkot sa balita at maiinit na isyu. Pero hindi ito ang napatunayan ko mula pa noong 2015. At, marahil, baka ganito rin ang obserbasyon kung isa-isang tatanungin ang social media administrator ng bawat pahayagang lumulunsad din sa social media. Hindi ito ang napatutunayan ko sa tuwing papapasadahan ko ang mga comments section ng pahayagan. Bihira ang makabuluhang palitan ng kuro-kuro, lalong bihira ang hinahon at pagninilay-nilay.  

Kaya nga, inisip ko, dahil karamihan ay mga galit, nang-iinsulto, nagrereklamo, kung papasukan ko ba ng pang-uuyam, may makakahalata pa kaya? Marami naman. Pero marami rin ang walang panahong magnilay kung sarcasm o hindi ang komentong kanilang sinusundan.

Real-time, popularity, o most relevant? 

May 3 paraang pinaiiral ang mga comments section ng social media gaya ng Facebook. Pupuwedeng ang mababasang nasa pinakataas ay ang latest na comment, puwede rin ang pinakapopular (pinakamaring reax) o iyong Most Relevant. Hindi nagagalaw ng social media administrator ang Most Relevant comment. Ang algorithm nito ay batay sa keywords ng comment mismo. Kaya naman may problema na agad kung hindi Ingles ang gamit sa pagkokomento. Nalilito ang algorithm upang matukoy ang Most Relevant sa dagsa ng comments sa isang isyu, lalo kung ang komento ay nakasulat sa Filipino at iba pang wikang hindi Ingles. 

Kaya kasing magkondisyon ng mga komento, lalo iyong mahaba ang thread, o maaanghang ang palitan ng salita, o iyong may totoong sagutan ng kung sino-sino para isulong ang kani-kanilang politikang kinakatawan, karaniwan, ng trapong sinasamba. Libre kampanya lalo’t mababara (“burn” as in sunog, sa social media jargon) ang katalo sa thread. Kayang ikondisyon na, dahil popular, kahit baluktot ang katuwiran (magandang paradox: baluktot ang tuwid, salitang-ugat ng katuwiran, gets?), baka ito nga ang totoong kaisipang nananaig at umiiral. Kaya naman buhay na buhay ang mga sagutan of the troll kind sa comments section. 

May pakinabang din naman dito ang mga pahayagan. Patuloy na lumalabas sa newsfeed ang pinag-uusapang balita. Lalo’t mainit ang talakayan sa comments section. Somehow, aminin man o hindi ng mga pahayagang lumulunsad na sa internet at nagbibilang ng hits, lalo ngayong may pandemic at bihira ang may access sa papel na diyaryo at sa mga ipinasarang estasyon, malaking bagay ang mayroong interaksiyon gaano man ka-substantial o kawalang substance ang pinag-uusapan sa comments section.  

Somehow, aminin man o hindi ng mga pahayagang may nakikita pang pakinabang sa comments section, complicit din sila sa paglipana ng troll industry at masidhing pagkakahati-hati ng lipunan. Na alam din marahil nila na kaydaling magpalago ng pagkamuhi sa comments section na, ang totoo, parang tambakan na lamang ng mga salitang bihira ang pinag-isipang mabuti kung makabubuti. – 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. 

Following the success among Filipino audiences of the Thai BL (Boys Love) series 2gether, numerous media outlets are starting to create Filipino BL series to please the newfound market. The list of upcoming series includes Darryl Yap’s Sakristan, Petersen Vargas’s Hello, Stranger, Xion Lim’s #MyDay, and Ivan Andrew Payawal's Gameboys, among others. 

I have seen efforts by film producers and writers to veer away from the parloristang bakla narrative, where gays are portrayed as comic relief just starving for the male species. However, when it comes to BL series, how gay characters are depicted there poses another challenge. They are presented as eye candy, with masculine features and fit bodies, charming male leads without a trace of body fat or effeminacy. This poses a problem, as young LGBT viewers could then view themselves as “too ugly to be gay,” or worse, believe that they do not deserve the same “love” because of their appearance. (READ: 'Tolerated, but not accepted': Filipino LGBTQ+ speak up vs discrimination)

***

I taught media and communication for a year at a Dominican-run Catholic institution before transferring to the blue Jesuit school. As a partial requirement, I instructed my students from the Dominican school to create a short film about a social or political issue. I stressed the importance of media representation, that it was better for them to create stories on the lives of the least represented.

In 2019, one of the student-made films, Hanggang Dulo, bagged awards in an intra-school student film competition. The film was not perfect. It had its flaws. But I said to my students that what mattered more was that they lent a voice to the least represented in the society. In the film, they shared how young LGBT members cope in relationships where one partner is born with HIV. (READ: What LGBT kids need to hear)

After winning Best Picture, I gave my students the go-signal to publish their film on YouTube. I was usually hesitant to let students post their films on the internet as I wanted to reduce digital footprints and not be held accountable for their works. However, their film was an exception, as I wanted more people not only to watch it, but also spread its message – to end the stigma towards people living with HIV/AIDS, and to get tested. As of writing, the video garnered 750,000+ views and more than a thousand comments on YouTube. Not bad for a student-made film.

However, one of my colleagues remarked that the films submitted by my students were “hindi pang-hayskul” (not suited for high school students). She might have been echoing former MTRCB chair Marissa LaGuardia's classification of homsexuality as “an abnormality of nature." She also pointed out how some of my students were even minors. She said that they might be too young to comprehend issues like same-sex relationships, rape, and even death as subjects of films. I understood her concern, because I was still bound to the rules and norms of a Catholic institution. However, I remained firm with my philosophy to be more liberal, while teaching my students to be ethical content producers, and not to be exploitative in their own writings.

***

Communication theorist George Gerbner argues that “the more time people spend 'living' in the television world, the more likely they are to believe social reality aligns with reality portrayed on television.” Although Gerbner’s cultivation theory is debunked by most theorists, as most audiences have shifted from getting information on TV to getting it on the internet, content producers of Pinoy BL series still have a responsibility to be more inclusive.

My cis female cousin who is a 'BrightWin,' or a fan of 2gether's main actors, asked me to recommend similar series, and I shared with her one of the Thai series I admired, Diary of Tootsie. My cousin watched a few episodes and was lukewarm towards it. She said that some characters from Diary of Tootsie were not as "visually pleasing" as 2gether's Bright Vachirawit or Win Metawin. 

I hope that Pinoy BL series go beyond this hype, serving a greater purpose and injecting pressing social and political realities. Who knows? The next Pinoy BL series might feature a gay character who is plump (or in LGBT lingo, a “chub”) or an “effem” person with a disability. – Rappler.com

Patrick Ernest C. Celso, 23, is a licensed professional teacher from Makati City. He teaches media and communication at Ateneo de Manila University. He is finishing his graduate degree in Creative Writing and obtained an English Education degree at the University of Santo Tomas.

In 2019, the UN High Commissioner for Refugees (UNHCR) reported that around 26 million individuals were forced to leave their countries to seek protection in other states. For many refugees and asylum seekers, accessing asylum in another territory could be more challenging than leaving one’s home country. Persons applying for refugee status could experience harsh journeys going to their country of destination. They may also face detention and imprisonment in their receiving countries. Worse, they could be forcibly deported to their countries of origin (refoulement), where they might again face threats to their lives and safety.

The Philippines is the first Southeast Asian country to sign the Refugee Convention. Since the early 20th century, the Philippines has been accepting asylum seekers onto its shores. At present, around 690 refugees are living in the country, and they are provided with state protection that will allow them to enjoy rights without fear of being forcibly deported to their countries of origin. The Philippine government has also introduced policies to assist refugees towards self-reliance and integration into their host communities. (READ: When the Philippines opened its doors to Jewish refugees)

This protection enjoyed by persons of concern, however, could be under threat now that the controversial Philippine Anti-Terrorism bill has become a law.

Section 11 of the Philippine Anti-Terrorism Act of 2020 defines foreign terrorists as those persons who travel outside their countries for the purpose of planning or executing terrorist activity in the Philippines. While the law aims to protect the country against terrorists coming from abroad, it does not provide safeguards for innocent persons seeking asylum in the Philippines to not be wrongfully classified as terrorists. This is particularly a concern for asylum seekers coming from countries identified as "high-risk states" or terrorism hotbeds. Proscription of terrorists from foreign juridictions is also allowed under this measure. This has implications for persons who were unjustly tagged as terrorists by their governments, as they could be identified as terrorists through this method. Being tagged as a terrorist could deprive legitimate asylum seekers the opportunity to safely access refuge in the Philippines.

Before an asylum seeker is granted refugee status, his application must first go through a refugee status determination (RSD) process to ascertain the persecution or threats of harm experienced by the asylum seeker in the country he fled from. This process requires a thorough assessment of political and social issues in the countries of origin before asylum seekers can be classified as refugees in the Philippines. The current RSD procedure also has its mechanisms in determining whether an asylum seeker has committed acts that would fall under Article 1F, or the exclusion clauses, of the Refugee Convention, which could bar one’s application for asylum. (READ: Philippines grants asylum to Iranian beauty queen)

This national asylum mechanism, however, could be undermined by the proposed powers of the Anti-Terror Council (ATC) to designate terrorists. Section 25 of the Anti-Terrorism Law empowers the ATC to designate persons as terrorists upon finding of probable cause of their intent or commission of a terrorist act. Given this provision, the ATC could designate a person based on the intelligence that it collected, regardless of the information coming from RSD assessments. The vague and overbroad definition of “terrorism” under the Act could simply be used to justify the designation. This creates a risk that an asylum seeker who suffered legitimate persecution in his country of origin may not be able to access refuge in the Philippines, as his designation will hinder the asylum application.

Interestingly, the law did not indicate a mechanism where the existing RSD process can inform the designations made by the ATC, should the person in question be an asylum seeker. The measure also did not mention how it can be harmonized with the current RSD process. It also did not provide a clause recognizing the primacy of non-refoulement (prohibition on forced deportation) as a state policy.

Persons already identified as refugees in the Philippines may also face a grave situation should they be wrongfully designated as terrorists. Though they enjoy the same protection as Philippine citizens, refugees in the country remain a vulnerable population. A designation of them as terrorist could cause the freezing of their assets, and would have implications on their freedom of movement, livelihood, and access to humanitarian support.

Considering the infirmities of the Anti-Terrorism Law, it could now be more challenging for asylum seekers and refugees to access protection in the country. Fleeing persecution from their home countries is already a challenge for refugees and asylum seekers. Accessing and maintaining safety and security in another country should not cause more suffering to these persons of concern.

The Anti-Terrorism Law as it stands now fails to take into consideration the struggles and situation of refugees and asylum seekers in the country. Worse, the law could even expose these persons of concern to further harm with its infirm definitions and provisions. Ending terrorism is important in achieving a peaceful society, but the path to eliminating terrorism should not curtail people’s rights and freedoms, including refugee rights.

Refugees and asylum seekers fled their countries in search of a safe haven. The Philippines has always been one for them, and it should remain as such. – Rappler.com

Reinna Bermudez is OIC Chief of the Commission on Human Rights' Center for Crisis, Conflict, and Humanitarian Protection. She is also Juris Doctor student at the University of the Philippines College of Law.

Towards the end of Pride Month this year, the hashtag #MCHSDOBETTER began a whole new Twitter movement, which led to students criticizing the management of their respective Catholic schools. Instances of harassment, homophobia, and several other forms of discrimination that took place within campus were thoroughly narrated by both alumni and those currently enrolled. I would like to use this platform to highlight the internal homophobia (which is only a small portion of the many systemic problems) inside my school — which most people might disagree with or define as “tolerable.” (READ: #MCHSdobetter: Groups condemn sexual misconduct of teachers, call for justice)

Just to clarify; I am enrolled in a school wherein being part of the LGBTQ+ community is generally accepted by many despite being under a religious institution. I am extremely grateful to have been raised in environments, both in school and at home, that have allowed me to freely express my sexuality and own my preferred identity. However, this is not the case for most Catholic schools nor is it the case for some of my schoolmates. There are still numerous forms of systemic problems that need to be (not necessarily called out, but instead:) recognized by others.  

I have been enrolled in the same Catholic school for over 13 years now. Typical school rumors have labeled me as the “resident gay person” in the past – when everyone was 10 years old and nobody had come out about their sexuality yet. It was a basic middle school story — people would make up rumors about me being gay, assume my sexuality because of my haircut, etc. I am more than glad that these became less prevalent as more people started coming out as all of us became more mature.

Soon, my batch will be entering its senior year (Grade 12), and the community is very different now. Students have gradually become more accepting of the LGBTQ+ community. Some people would even call it a “safe space” to express their sexuality, since several people come from families that refrain them from doing so at home. In my opinion, the campus has become a safer place as compared to other environments, but still, it has several problems that need to be addressed. (READ: [OPINION] Drawing the line on sexual harassment in all-girls schools)

It’s more than just CL teachers being homophobic — because that is no surprise at this point. Instead, it is the community not being able to recognize the system for its mistakes, which eventually became “normal” for the school to do. When the student handbook requires everyone to get haircuts at a certain length and bans students from cross-dressing during events, when teachers shame gay students during class, when trans students are being outed to their parents, and when all topics related to the LGBTQ+ community are being censored from the curriculum, people are angered but are never listened to.

Much ruder incidents have happened with overly conservative CL teachers, but the instances of shaming and outing I mentioned were actually done by different English and STEM teachers over the years. I have been on the receiving end of some of their insulting words, and I know others also receive them regularly. These incidents happen often and become regular concerns — which eventually turn, instead, into a tolerated culture.  

I am thankful to have grown up with my schoolmates in probably the most progressive generation so far. It has felt like the largest LGBTQ+ community I could ever ask for. These words, with the intention of fighting for gay rights, would have never come out of my mouth if not for the education offered by my school (from Social Sciences classes) and the enriching conversations with my schoolmates who knew more about the LGBTQ community than I did (especially in middle school when I barely knew what the letters meant). However, having a support system is not as powerful as it sounds if the structure it resides in is hesitant to change. Students made the first step a long time ago. The student body needs the system to do the same. (READ: MCHS family council 'alarmed' by high number of sexual harassment complaints)

This is not an article exposing the school, specific teachers, nor the academic curriculum of Catholic schools as a whole. I am writing this for several reasons, including sharing the perspective of a Catholic school student in the LGBTQ+ community, and letting others recognize the structural deficiencies that have been tolerated for generations.

I understand that religious institutions will have to remain religious, so I personally do not hold any anger or grudges against them. However, religious institutions can still be religious without discriminating against minorities that simply disagree with its beliefs. If a curriculum teaches its students about basic human rights, the school should also be able to implement these rights in the handbook. 

P.S. I’ve never really come out about my sexuality before because it’s always been such a personal topic for me. People have just been assuming my sexuality because of all the rumors made over the years. I guess this article also serves as my “coming out” as well. – Rappler.com

Charlie is an incoming Grade 12 student under the Humanities and Social Sciences strand of an all-girl school. She spends her leisure time engaging in competitive debating, filmmaking, and serving youth organizations, which have all helped her learn more about the LGBTQ+ community and formulate her own identity.