On May 2, various government agencies banded together to hold a forum called #RealNumbersPH which sought to "correct" numbers about the war against drugs being used by media and human rights groups.

Journalists who attended the forum, however, noted that despite the number-filled infographics and presentations, no government official bothered to explain the origin of a very important number: 4 million drug addicts in the Philippines today.

This number is important because it provides the rationale for waging such a bloody campaign against illegal drugs. (EXPLAINER: How serious is the PH drug problem? Here's the data)

In fact, this number came from President Rodrigo Duterte himself.

It did not always use to be 4 million drug addicts. Back when he was running for president, it was only 3 million.

Let's trace the history of this "real number."

3 million addicts, late 2015 to June 2016– Duterte began using the figure of "3 million drug addicts" as a presidential candidate during campaign sorties, especially when Dionisio Santiago, a former Philippine Drug Enforcement Agency (PDEA) chief, was present. Santiago was then a candidate in Duterte's senatorial slate.

Duterte would even stop in the middle of his speech to call Santiago's attention so he could confirm the figure. 

In mentioning this figure, Duterte would clarify that these were the statistics when Santiago headed PDEA. In other words, Duterte admits these are outdated numbers. Santiago headed PDEA from 2006 to 2011.

The Dangerous Drugs Board (DDB) says that in 2008, the only year when it released such data during Santiago's time, there were 1.7 million drug users nationwide.

3.7 million addicts, Duterte's first SONA, July 25, 2016 – After around a month in power, Duterte presented a new estimate of drug addicts – 3.7 million. Where did the 700,000 come from? It was just Duterte's "liberal" estimate.

"Give it a liberal addition. Maybe, make it [700,000]. So three million seven hundred thousand [3.7 million]. The number is quite staggering and scary," he said during his first State of the Nation Address.

4 million addicts, 2017 – By the year 2017, Duterte dropped the 3.7 million figure and now confidently declares there are 4 million drug addicts. The additional 1 million comes from the over 1 million surrenderers, as reported by the Philippine National Police.

For Duterte, it's safe to assume these surrenderers are drug addicts and can thus be combined with his original 3 million figure from Santiago.

Now an official number

The "4 million" figure has now found its way into government press releases and infographics. A #RealNumbersPH infographic declared "4 million users (as of April 20,2017)."

The infographic appeared to provide a "breakdown" of the 4 million but was in fact a list of other statistics which did not add up to 4 million.

This indicates that the administration is now using Duterte's figure as an official number to explain why his drug war is necessary.

It appears with other numbers from the PNP and PDEA – number of anti-drug operations, number of deaths under investigation, number of surrenderers.

But unlike these, the 4 million comes straight from the President and not from any specific study or field work. (READ: IN NUMBERS: The Philippines' war on drugs)

But, as pointed out by media, the 4 million estimate is very far from a figure from an actual survey. A DDB survey, conducted from January 1, 2015, to February 5, 2016, said there are 1.8 million drug users.

Though still a large number, this is significantly lower than Duterte's figure. Note that the DDB's term, "drug users," includes people who abuse drugs, are dependent, and who are drug addicts. 

Thus, the figure for drug addicts is even smaller than 1.8 million.

No questioning Duterte's number

Understandably, government officials and Duterte's allies don't want to question his famous number.

When Dionisio Santiago attended a Malacañang event in December last year, he was asked by this reporter to confirm if he indeed gave Duterte the "3 million drug addicts" number – the number that started it all.

Santiago, who had been speaking to another reporter at the time, immediately changed his speaking tone, from carefree to angry.

He refused to answer the question and walked quickly away from reporters.

A PDEA official, interviewed by Reuters, even justified Duterte's "overestimation."

The President, he said, "just exaggerates it so we will know that the problem is very big.”

Journalists covering the police beat have asked the PNP to explain the 4 million figure, to which they would get the reply, "Sabi ng Pangulo (It's what the President said)."

However, PNP chief Director General Ronald Dela Rosa himself said the PNP prefers to use DDB's 1.8 million figure as a baseline so they would have “doable targets.”

According to an Inquirerreport, PNP operations head Chief Superintendent Camilo Cascolan had said, "The directive from the PNP chief is we will concentrate and focus ourselves on 1.8 million only."

This begs the question of why, despite PNP's use of the DDB figure, the "Real Numbers" forum insisted on Duterte's more questionable "4 million drug addicts."

In a December 2016 interview, Rappler's Maria Ressa confronted Duterte on his use of "3 million to 4 million drug addicts" in his speeches.

The President responded by saying not all drug addiction cases are reported anyway.

"Hindi naman lahat nare-report (Not all gets reported). And they do not admit it," he said.

Duterte side-stepped when Ressa asked if he planned to release his own data regarding his numbers. (READ: Data in the drug war: Why accurate numbers matter)

Government and some supporters of the President have bashed media for their reporting of "fake numbers" and have called on citizens to trust numbers released by government.

But with the President's own sketchy estimates, it might do well for government to be careful with its own numbers. – Rappler.com

And then there were 3.

In less than a year, the Duterte Cabinet has seen 3 members kicked out unceremoniously, either by the President himself or by lawmakers unhappy with his choices. 

Environmental advocate Gina Lopez was the second Cabinet Secretary of Duterte to be rejected by the bicameral Commission on Appointments, after the disgraced Perfecto Yasay Jr. Prior to these back-to-back setbacks, Duterte himself sacked Ismael Sueno as his interior and local government chief.

Will there be more? 

All indications say so.

The case of Sueno proves the President can drop an alter ego without the basic courtesy of a dialogue, and on the basis of a whisperer's access to the President's ears.

The cases of Yasay and Lopez prove he’d rather allow the CA do the dirty job for him – to avoid ruffling the feathers of a friend (in Yasay’s case) or losing popularity among environmental sectors (in Lopez’s case).

The Duterte Cabinet, after all, represents the various hues and interests that propelled him to the presidency: big business, personal friends and networks, the Davao bloc, the Left, the Mindanao bloc, among others. It’s a team that clashes in ideology and worldview, one that has more heart than skills in governance – as illustrated in more ways than one by Lopez – and held together only by the bullheadedness of its leader.

People who know him from his years as mayor were not surprised by his initial picks. They told us as early as then that, given Duterte’s style, his first wave of Cabinet appointments was his channel of paying political debts. After a year, they said, we would see a “cleansed” Cabinet that will not carry the baggage of a divisive campaign, and definitely a more competent one.

We have our doubts. 

This has been a government that has not stopped campaigning since it assumed power on June 30. To promote its programs and build support for them, it has dazzled its base with slogans and viciously attacked its critics with shameless name calling – no different from how it courted voters a year ago.

Now that it feels under siege from the “yellows,” biased media, and the likes of Agnes Callamard, can this presidency really afford to appoint people on the basis of competence and not loyalty or personal ties to the leader? Will it really go out of its way to let in skilled people who do not share its shortcut methods in the war on drugs, its lack of faith in media and other independent bodies such as the judiciary and the Ombudsman, and its distrust of oversight institutions in the international community? 

Hope springs eternal, yes. But so do imagined fears. – Rappler.com

Sawang-sawa na ako sa mga nagsasabing elitista ang gustuhing maging maayos ang pagbaybay at gramatika ng social media posts at iba pang lathalain. Ayon sa mga ito, wala raw karapatan ang mga “mayayamang nakapag-aral” na husgahan ang mga “jejemon.” Haluan pa ito ng pulitika, at para nang demonyo ang mga humihiling ng tamang pagbaybay at gramatika: "Dilawan! Pinagtatawanan ang mga pro-Digong!"

Linawin natin. Walang masama sa jeje na paraan ng pagsusulat na madalas ay ginagamit sa text. Bahagi 'yan ng malikhaing paggamit ng wika. Ngunit kapag oras nang makipag-ugnayan sa ibang paraan, dapat may kapasidad din ang bawat mamamayan na gumamit ng tamang baybay at gramatika. Ito kasi ang kaibahan ng mga sapat ang edukasyon sa mga pinagkaitan nito: ang mga nakapag-aral ay marunong gumamit ng wika ng akademya, gobyerno, sining, agham.

Hindi ko tuloy malaman kung kanino ako higit na maiinis: sa mga mali-mali nga ang pagbaybay at gramatika pero proud pa sila, o 'yung mga magaling naman magsulat pero dinedepensahan ang kamalian ng iba. 

Simulan natin sa simpleng katotohanan: kapag nagbabasa ang isang tao ng mga lathalain na nagpapalawak at nagpapalalim ng kasisipan, tiyak na gagaling siya sa pagsasalita at pagsusulat.  Totoo rin ang kabaliktaran: habang hindi tayo marunong magbasa at magsulat nang maayos, magiging biktima tayo ng pekeng balita, mga baluktot na pagsususuri, at madali tayong maniniwala sa manloloko.

Kaya 'yang mga mahusay naman sa spelling and grammar pero ipinagtatanggol ang mga “jeje” bilang umano'y pruweba na ang masa ay nagsasalita na – p'wede ba? Hindi naman sila para sa masa. Ang gusto nila’y manatili sa iilan ang pribilehiyo ng kagalingang magsalita at magsulat. Huwag po tayong makikinig sa mga pekeng makamasa. Hangad po nila ang tuluyang paghihirap ng karamihan. Ayaw po nila na tayo ay mag-isip, matututong mag-isip, at magkaroon ng kakayanan na humanap ng impormasyon para sa sarili.

Huwag lahatin ang masa

Marami sa mga mahirap ay maayos magsalita at magsulat kapag kailangan na.

May kasamahan ako sa isa kong NGO na maralitang tagalunsod. Nang una ko siyang makilala, magaling na siyang magsalita ng Tagalog kahit hindi ito ang wikang kinamulatan niya. Di nagtagal at siya ay nagle-lecture sa mga klinika namin tungkol sa kalusugan ng kababaihan. Ang ilan sa mga lathalain namin ay siya na rin ang sumulat. Siyempre pa, pagaling siya nang pagaling.

Ngunit nitong taon, bigla na lang nakipag-usap siya sa Ingles sa isa naming foreign partner. Sabi ng foreign partner, “What happened since I came last year?” Sagot ng kasamahan ko, “There are other foreign partners now.”

Sa madaling salita, dahil dumadami na ang kailangang kausapin ng Ingles, sumubok na rin siyang mag-Ingles. Hinihintay ko na lang na magsulat na rin siya sa Ingles. At kapag ginawa niya iyon, makakaasa siya sa matindi at komprehensibong editing, dahil mahal ko siya.

Middle class guilt

At kung mayroon mang nagtatanggol sa mga mali-maling pagbaybay at gramatika, at sinserong naiinis sa pagpapahiya ng mga sosyalera sa mga hindi nagtamasa ng kalidad ng edukasyon, heto ang para sa inyo: “middle class guilt.”

Naalala ko 'yung kumpare kong nagturo sa akin kung gaano kapeke ang mga taong nagtataglay ng tinatawag niyang “middle class guilt.” Ang epekto nito, aniya, ay ang pagkunsinti sa mali ng mahihirap. Sabi niya sa akin tungkol sa isang empleyado ko na hindi ko makuhang sisantehin dahil nagi-guilty nga ako: “Galing akong mahirap. Ang magulang ko, nagsimula sa isang empleyado. 'Yung unang empleyadong iyon, sinesante namin nung ayaw pumasok nang tama. Kami kasi araw-araw nagbabanat ng buto, kaya di namin pinag-iisipan na tanggalin sa trabaho ang hindi maayos magtrabaho.” Ayon. Natuto na ako. Ang mga siniswelduhan ko ngayon ay mararangal at maaayos. Sinusubok ko na lang na maging kasing marangal at maayos ako na employer.

Dahil sa kumpare ko, inaasahan ko na ang lahat ay maaaring paunlarin ang sarili. At kung handa ang taong matutong magsulat at magsalita sa Ingles, Tagalog, Cebuano, Ilokano, dapat siyang tulungan.

Hangarin para sa ikaaasenso ng lahat

Hindi naman 'yung mayayaman lang ang mga sosyalera sa isyung ito. Naalala ko rin ang isa kong pinag-aaral dati na humiling sa akin na turuan siyang mag-Ingles sa tamang accent dahil pinagtatawanan ng kanyang mga kaklase ang kanyang accent. Hindi naman exclusive school ito. At ang accent na ipinagmamalaki ng mga tumutukso ay accent rin lang ng mga Tagalog kapag nagsasalita ng Ingles. Galing kasing Negros itong pinag-aaral ko. “Naku”, 'ka ko, “pabisitahin mo rito para pagtawanan ko. Di nila kaya ang aking accent na pang-UP Campus.” Ganoon lang naman 'yun. Kung gusto mong magmataas, kahit anong dahilan, p'wede na.

Kung tunay kang may pinag-aralan, talikuran ang lahat ng kalokohang iyan at matuto – hindi ng tamang accent (wala namang tama), sa halip ay ng tamang pag-iisip. Simulan sa pagsisikap na matuto ng tamang pagbaybay at gramatika. Tumanggap ng puna. kahit pangungutya pa yung iba. Basta matuto.

Hindi lahat ng mahusay magsulat ay maayos mag-isip. Hindi lahat ng maayos mag-isip ay mahusay magsulat. Ngunit napakalaki ng relasyon ng dalawa.

Alam naming mga guro na maraming salik ang lohikal at malalim na pag-iisip. Ang isang napakahalagang salik ay ang disiplina at kaayusan na dala ng pagsunod sa tamang pagbaybay at gramatika. Alam namin na nakapag-aral man o hindi ang isang tao, ang talas ng kanyang kaisipan ang siyang magdadala ng pag-asenso para sa kanya at sa bayan.

Alam namin ang kasiyahan at kabutihan na makukuha sa pagbabasa ng mga akademikong akda, pang-K-12 man ito o pandoktorado.

At kung 'yung iba diyan ay isinuko na ang ilang kababayan sa kanilang kamangmangan, may ilan sa aming hindi papayag. Ipaglalaban namin ang kalidad na edukasyon para sa lahat.

Ngunit bago tayo makarating doon, hindi namin isusuko ang ngayon. Lagi naming aayain ang lahat na magsikhay sa tamang pagpapahayag ng kaisipan. Ito pa kasi ang itinatago ng mga pekeng tagapagtanggol ng masa: wala sa mga tunay na nagmamahal sa wika ang tumitigil sa pagpapabuti ng kanilang kapasidad sa pamamahayag. 

Kaya samahan ninyo kami. Maraming taga-exclusive schools na naninindigan dito. Maraming hindi man nakatungtong ng high school o kolehiyo na ganito din ang paninindigan.

Sino ngayon ang tunay na elitista? – Rappler.com  

Dear Tito,

It’s 1:28 am and I can’t sleep.

I can’t stop thinking about you...

...What are you wearing?

Are your pajamas unbuttoned at the top? You know, to give a peek of skin into the beginnings of your happy trail?

Or are you the boxers kind of guy who likes to let it hang? You must adore the soft, cool caress of silk, so soft that it can mimic the feel of another’s skin. Cotton would just be too ano, ordinary and regular.

You say you like to pray, but I wonder if that is all you get down on your knees for. Perhaps you have ventured into getting on all fours.

I have a better idea. How about we play – you like to play, don’t you? You like joking around so much that you’ve made a career out of it. Well, now you’re not really funny but rather laughable whenever you open your mouth in the Senate. (Though the gentleman from General Santos makes for a very worthy opponent.)

I have just the thing for you. A feather boa won’t do for this one. Neither will a silk tie. No white Hermes silk scarves to tie you to the bedpost. This calls for white Good Morning towels and...a flogger.

The soft feel of straps of leather that with just the right pressure can inflict pain that is so fine yet so sharp that you might mistake it for pleasure.

Feel the strands of soft leather tracing your skin?

This is what a man like you needs. A man like you who doesn't know how to act when faced with a woman with a mind of her own and achievements that surpass your own. You don’t know what to do with a woman like that – one who is equal and clearly better than you. You actually make it easy because well, you don’t set the bar very high. (READ: After complaint, Sotto takes a leave of absence from ethics panel)

It makes your knees quiver because in your fantasy world, women are mere sex objects. Wombs walking around on two legs that should remain closed until a man tries to open them. Never has it crossed your mind that women can decide on her own.

That kind of woman is na-ano. And if there is no man in sight, that woman is na-anakan (just got knocked up).

That’s what you meant to say, isn’t it. Na-anakan. 

*whip*

Everyone knows you’re an animal. But that’s doesn’t mean women are only for breeding. A baby factory. You are deluded in thinking that only a man like you – even if your doughy sagging skin and mushy body that is turning 69 – is allowed pleasure.

*whip*

You’re mad now but ano pa ang galet?

You don’t get it. Just like we didn’t get it?

*whip*

You think you can shame a woman for her sexuality, expressed or otherwise?

*whip*

Well, you can’t.

*whip**whip**whip*

Because strong women own their sexuality.

*whip**whip**whip*

And because we own it.

We get to say who. We get to dictate when. And we determine how.

Most importantly, we get to say NO.

*whip**whip**whip*

And today and every single time you rear that ugly dirty mind of yours in a display of supreme anti-intellectualism, we will cut you down to your obvious size: Small. Miniscule. Puny.

We will say NO to your asinine brutish behavior.

We will not be silenced into submission.

*whip**whip**whip*

Not today. Not ever. - Rappler.com

Ana P. Santos is Rappler’s sex and gender columnist. She is also Pulitzer Center grantee who writes about labor migration. In 2014, the Pulitzer Center on Crisis Reporting awarded her the Persephone Miel Fellowship to do a series of reports on migrant mothers in Paris and Dubai.

After the acquittal of Janet Lim Napoles on illegal detention charges, the Department of Justice (DOJ) is considering making her a state witness in the pork barrel scam, as it reinvestigates the case.

An estimated P10 billion ($200 million) in government funds was allegedly stolen through the pork barrel scam. Napoles was accused of colluding with lawmakers, to channel development assistance funds for their constituents into her bogus non-governmental organizations, in exchange for hefty kickbacks. The scam is known as one of the biggest corruption scandals in recent Philippine history.

Napoles is currently detained on charges of malversation, graft, and direct bribery, for allegedly being the mastermind of the scam. Making her a state witness would be equivalent to an acquittal.

To be able to qualify for state witness, an individual must not appear to be the most guilty in the commission of the crime. There must be absolute necessity for the testimony of the accused, such that there is no other direct evidence available for the proper prosecution of the offense committed, apart from the testimony of the person. (READ: FAQ: On becoming a state witness)

Given these requirements, Napoles cannot, and should not be a state witness.

The center of it all

I have pored through every single page of witness testimonies, and Napoles has convincingly been accused of being the mastermind of the multibillion-peso scam, backed by documentary evidence.

This woman set up the fake NGOs that were used to pocket taxpayers' money, funds that should've been for development projects, typhoon victims, and poor farmers. This woman ordered employees to forge thousands of signatures and pose as beneficiaries of government projects. This woman consistently lied to the public, denied any wrongdoing, evaded taxes, and kept the scam going for 10 years. This woman shredded receipts and documents in the days leading to her investigation.

Do not forget that this woman first stole from the military, bribed a judge to drop the case, then set her sights on the bigger Priority Development Assistance Fund. This woman, with the money she stole, bought properties here and abroad, lived like a queen, and settled down in a penthouse in Pacific Place at the expense of her countrymen. This woman consciously and deliberately planned, in arresting detail, to take the money of the Filipino people, and enriched herself with it.

Napoles cannot be a state witness because she was among, if not the most guilty. She was central to the commission of the crime, the tie that bound politicians to this scam. (READ: TIMELINE: Janet Napoles from scandal to testimony)

Fr Ranhilio Aquino, the dean of the San Beda College of Law, also pointed out that making Napoles a state witness is problematic because she herself testified several times in the Senate, where she consistently denied her participation in the scam. If she were to reverse her testimony, she would open herself to perjury and wrongful testimony charges.

How can the courts trust a woman who has shown neither guilt nor admission of the crime? A woman who initially denied her involvement, then later issued an ever evolving list of politicians involved in the scam, with no supporting evidence?

Aside from Napoles, 3 senators were put in jail on convincing evidence for their participation in the scam – all without needing her testimony. Napoles' right-hand Benhur Luy, and the other whistle-blowers who were members of Napoles' staff, have consistently provided credible testimony and evidence, enough to charge Napoles herself, and these lawmakers. They know enough, and are already state witnesses. Is Napoles' testimony truly necessary?

Not a single cent more

If Napoles were to become a state witness, she would receive benefits from the government, again, with taxpayers' money.

These benefits include security protection and escort services, a secure housing facility, assistance in obtaining a means of livelihood, reasonable traveling expenses and subsistence allowance while acting as a witness, free medical treatment, hospitalization, and medicine for any injury or illness incurred or suffered while acting as a witness, payment of full salary or wage while acting as a witness, and free education from primary to college level for the minor or dependent children of a witness who dies or is permanently incapacitated. 

She deserves not a single cent more of the Filipinos' money.

If she were to be acquitted, it would be a staggering injustice, an indication that graft and plunder in this country remain to be escapable. By all means, reopen the investigation and pursue those who still need to be charged for the massive robbery of government coffers. Convict the public officials who betrayed the trust of the people – regardless of alliances or political affiliation. Let them rot in jail. Let no one get away.

But don't let Napoles get away either. – Rappler.com

Soft kitty, warm kitty
Marxist ball of fur

Revolutionary kitty
Purr, purr, purr

– Rappler.com

#FridayFeels is a cartoon series by the Rappler Creatives Team. Cathartic, light, but relevant, it's a welcome break from your heavy news feed! You can pitch illustration ideas by sending a message to the Rappler Facebook page. 

How can it be that one feels so needed and yet at the same time unwanted?  

This is a question that strikes at the heart of people's realities today.       

Relationships break apart and friendships come to an end. Even conversations – those that at one point gave us so much inspiration – grind to a halt.

The pain of being alone is all too real. Yet this pain has become all too normal, so much so that many don't even feel it anymore.   

No, this pain is not a monopoly of the mentally ill. Often we associate loneliness with clinical depression. But the reality is far more complex.

Is it because people change? Maybe, that's why they walk away. Is it because wonder is innately insatiable? Maybe, that's why people find someone else yet again. Is it because "forever" does not really exist? Maybe, that's why we covet it.

The sociology of loneliness

It might seem unusual that a sociologist now writes about loneliness. Sociologists, after all, are excited by human relationships. But the loss of relationships is what gave birth to sociology. The onset of modernity during the industrialization period dismantled old relationships, only to replace them with ephemeral ones. 

Indeed, much of our relationships are not about common interests. They are for the most part about our interdependence on each other. 

We need teachers to educate our children. We need doctors to keep us healthy. We need call center agents to answer our queries. We need security guards to man our subdivisions. We need drivers to bring us places.    

In these manufactured communities, the value of other people becomes largely economic. They are only valuable if they have something to offer us. Think about it: people were called human beings before they were called human resources.

Sociologists refer to this functional interdependence by using the German word for impersonal ties – Gessellschaft.  

Unfortunately, the rise of impersonal ties also means that the group of people who really matter to us becomes smaller and smaller.

At the same time, these intimate relationships – families and deep friendships – are at the mercy of the labor market. In the Philippine context, that labor market is global. How many of us have been left behind by OFW parents?

Functional dependencies and smaller intimate relationships. No wonder that we can feel wonderfully needed at times but terribly unwanted at others.

What then are we left with? 

The deepest aspiration now of the modern urbanite is to travel, consume, and find one's passion in life. Whether or not he can afford these is another issue.  Nevertheless, all these, while noble, are about the self and the joys it looks for.  

That is what we are left with.  

But there is a caveat. At its core, how lonely this aspiration must be.

No wonder then that in the company of cheerful dancing, merry drinking, endless traveling, and fearless sexual encounters, one can still feel so alone. 

In this period, the sociologist Zygmunt Bauman claims that "there are no permanent bonds, and any that we take up for a time must be tied loosely so that they can be untied again, as quickly and as effortlessly as possible."

Alas, loneliness is at the very heart of the modern condition.

The way out

Humanity yearns for certainty. That is what underpins much of people's belief in God, the aspiration to be financially stable, and above all, the desire to be loved. 

But the modern condition as we know it today simply renders it more visible and desirable.  The only problem is that certainty in itself has become elusive.  And so we can only daydream about "forever".

But to daydream is not enough. 

In writing this piece, I can only hope that we start talking about the pain of being alone. With each other. 

Far too often we leave it in the soul's interstices of deniability. But talking about it is the first step towards not being afraid of it.  

And then maybe, just maybe, the pain of being alone won't be so deep anymore. – Rappler.com

Jayeel Serrano Cornelio, PhD,  is the a sociologist at the Ateneo de Manila University. He was once a postdoctoral research fellow at the Max Planck Institute for the Study of Religious and Ethnic Diversity in Germany.  Please share with him your thoughts on Twitter @jayeel_cornelio.

MANILA, Philippines – Mocha Uson took care to declare on her popular Facebook page that all her posts there are about her personal views and not that of the Presidential Communications Operations Office (PCOO), where she is now an assistant secretary. 

Emblazoned across her page as its cover photo, the declaration seeks to draw a line between public and personal.

But given her new career, Uson should know that, as a public official, all her public posts impact public interest.

Making it even trickier for her to draw that line is the nature of her job – assistant secretary in charge of communicating programs of government to the public through social media.

Since she is now a government official, Uson is bound by the “Code of Conduct and Ethical Standards for Public Officials and Employees,” otherwise known as Republic Act No 6713. 

According to this Code, the line Uson wants to draw between personal and public is non-existent in certain cases. 

“She can no longer misbehave in the blog, she can’t curse,” said a lawyer from the Office of the Ombudsman.  

“She could be made administratively liable for any misbehavior for conduct prejudicial to the interest of public service,” added the lawyer.

Public vs private

According to the definition of “conduct prejudicial to the interest of public service,” an act does not need to be related to or connected with a government official’s functions. As long as the act damages the reputation of the official’s department, the official can be held liable administratively. 

“The acts of respondent constitute the administrative offense of Conduct Prejudicial to the Best Interest of the Service, which need not be related to, or connected with, the public officer’s official functions. As long as the questioned conduct tarnishes the image and integrity of his public office, the corresponding penalty may be meted on the erring public officer or employee,” reads jurisprudence on Civil Service Commission laws. 

No matter how much Uson says her blog is for her personal views, her readers know she is a PCOO assistant secretary. From hereon, her posts, especially those made publicly, will be the posts of a government official being paid taxpayers’ money (at least P106,454 a month, to be exact).

It also cannot be denied that she was appointed to her post primarily because of the popularity of her blog and her fierce defense of the President on her blog.

Duterte himself said he gave her the job out of “utang na loob” (debt of gratitude).

Uson also uses her Facebook page to post Palace-released photos and information, further blurring the line between personal and public, to the disservice of Filipinos. 

Foul, derogatory language

Uson has frequently used foul, derogatory language in public online posts or broadcasts.

On her DZRH show, for instance, she called Vice President Leni Robredo “bobo” and cursed her and her staff with several outbursts of “putang ina” (son of a bitch). DZRH eventually suspended her show because of this incident.  

On her blog, Uson has frequently cursed and insulted reporters and media outfits. Without citing any proof, she has labelled media groups like Inquirer, Rappler, and ABS-CBN as “presstitutes,” or journalists paid to write fake or biased news. 

With this in mind, Uson must abide by other provisions of the Code of Conduct.

Under Section 4 or Norms of Conduct of Public Officials and Employees, she must observe the following:

• Professionalism - Public officials and employees shall perform and discharge their duties with the highest degree of excellence, professionalism, intelligence and skill.
• Justness and sincerity - They shall at all times respect the rights of others, and shall refrain from doing acts contrary to law, good morals, good customs, public policy, public order, public safety and public interest. 
• Political neutrality - Public officials and employees shall provide service to everyone without unfair discrimination and regardless of party affiliation or preference.  

Public officials and employees are also told to extend “courteous” service to the public. 

If found to have violated provisions of the Code of Conduct, Uson may be penalized with a fine equivalent to 6 months’ salary or suspension for up to a year. If the offense is grave enough, she could be removed from office. – Rappler.com

Senator Alan Cayetano traveled last week to Geneva, in Switzerland, to appear at a United Nations inquiry and argue on behalf of the Duterte government that, if any summary executions were happening in its war on drugs, these were not "state-sponsored".

He made other points, but still they were mainly about “extrajudicial killings” or “EJKs”, as they have come to be commonly called. He took issue particularly with media and other unofficial accounts of them and pronounced them falsehoods, as if these things don't qualify as truth until they have been Duterte-sanctified.

An immediate concern for Cayetano’s representation was a complaint against Duterte with the International Criminal Court (ICC), based also in Geneva. The complaint was filed by Jude Sabio, lawyer for Edgar Matobato, who came forward last year and, in a foreshadowing of the present-day EJKs, confessed at a Senate hearing that he had been an assassin on a death squad in Davao City when Duterte was its mayor.

With reports of multiple drug-war deaths almost daily in the first 7 or 8 months of Duterte's 6-year presidential term – reports backed by eyewitness accounts, pictures, and television footage taken by the networks as well as public closed-circuit systems – how did Cayetano expect to make anyone disbelieve them and believe his word instead? One apparent trick was to seize on the phrase "state-sponsored", as EJKs are widely alleged, and split hairs around it.

To be sure, the phrase lends itself to semantic twisting, a game that lawyers like Cayetano like to play. But Etta Rosales, the former chairperson of the Commission on Human Rights, would not let any of that sort of thing pass. "Hogwash!" she declared and, with simple, cutting logic, asked rhetorically what government will dare admit "sponsoring" such brutality.

But let’s indulge Cayetano, for the moment anyway. I'm not sure how the two words that form the disputed phrase “state-sponsored” are defined exactly in Cayetano's legal profession. But I can’t imagine the word "sponsor" taking any meaning that departs essentially from the ones in lay usage: back, support, promote, sanction, approve of.

Gravest moral issue

Doesn't President Duterte do any and all that when he warns drug dealers and addicts, "I will kill you"? Doesn't he betray an even more perverse streak when he says he will be "happy to slaughter" all 3 million of them? Doesn't he encourage excesses by promising presidential protection to the extent of pardon to policemen prosecuting his drug war?

Concededly, the word "state", used synonymously with "president", can provoke legitimate contention: When does a presidential act become an act of the state? Maybe we could all agree to settle for a phrase that replaces “state” with “president” and takes “sponsored” for its partner or any of its synonyms. Thus, the President, who, after all, likes to invite challenges, is tested for his tough talk. Let him assume all responsibility for all the deaths in his war and all the abuses of his war enforcers, so that the “state” – whatever that is – may be spared.

But what are we doing, really, if not simply quibbling — and quibbling over the gravest moral issue of our time. Thousands of lives have been taken summarily, and we are debating whether those killings were justified or not.

I'm reminded of a line from a movie, a comedy as it happens and, as such, appropriately desperate, I think, for drawing attention to the sick tragedy of our lives:

"I am drowning here, and you are describing the water!"

The resonance in fact does not end there. The ultimate evocation of our tragicomic situation comes from the title of the movie: “As good as it gets”. – Rappler.com

The quick-fix president favors quick-fix officials.

This seems a rather simplistic view of the recent Cabinet appointments made by President Rodrigo Duterte, but it is also true. Impatient with the slow grind of the bureaucracy, frustrated with orders left unimplemented, aware of his self-imposed and often unrealistic deadlines and promises, Duterte knows that if there’s anyone who’d obey his orders because he said so, it would be the soldier.

Thus it's no surprise that he handpicked two military generals as replacements for appointees whom he had sacked (Ismael Sueno of the Department of the Interior and Local Government) or who was rejected by the Commission on Appointments (Gina Lopez of the Department of Environment and Natural Resources).

Former Armed Forces chief Roy Cimatu is now the new DENR secretary, while still-to-retire Armed Forces chief Eduardo Año is the incoming DILG secretary.

They join an expanding roster of men in uniform in the Duterte government: National Security Adviser Hermogenes Jr, also a former chief of staff; Defense Secretary Delfin Lorenzana, a retired Army general; Customs chief Nicanor Faeldon, ex-Marine colonel and former coup plotter; National Food Authority chief Jason Aquino, ex-Army major and also another former coup plotter; Land Transit Authority chief Reynaldo Berroya, an Arroyo police general previously sidelined by the Estrada administration over corruption charges; and Metro Rail Transit Line boss Rodolfo Garcia, another Arroyo general.

What criteria did Duterte use in choosing them?

Experience or expertise in the assigned work is obviously not one.

Esperon, a tactical mind and an operations officer through and through, is not known for strategic thinking, which is required of the position he now holds. His main asset is his loyalty, which he’d proven under the Arroyo regime, where he was dragged in the “Hello, Garci” scandal.

Cimatu concedes his lack of experience in the environment and natural resources sector. At a time when climate change is a pressing world problem, the administration chose to appoint someone who has little knowledge of the challenges it poses. 

Cimatu’s main asset, too, is his loyalty, which he’d proven under the Arroyo regime, where he was also at some point linked to the so-called comptroller mafia in the military. 

Año, while known to be competent, will be in uncharted territory at the DILG. A soldier who spent most of his time in the shadows as an intelligence officer will be thrust in a department that has little use for his experience – unless of course the President considers the DILG secretary as the mere supervisor of the national police, which is farthest from the truth.

And don’t even get us started with Faeldon or Aquino – both clearly not qualified for their posts and whose continued presence in government baffles us no end – or Berroya, once sacked for alleged links to kidnap-for-ransom groups.

To be sure, Duterte does not have the monopoly of military appointments in the bureaucracy in the Philippines' post-Marcos transition to democracy. 

Fidel Ramos had named 100 military men in his government. Arroyo appointed more than 50. 

Through these appointments, Philippine presidents think they are able to tame and temper a politicized military, giving the institution enough space in the power corridors to keep their mutinous tendencies at bay. They also look at military officers as the ones who can – and will – deliver results quickly, no questions asked.

Feeling under siege barely a year into his presidency and racing against time to clean up the bureaucracy, Duterte cannot be faulted for doing the same. 

But we cannot be faulted, too, for reminding him of his promise when he was wooing our vote: change.

Sadly, this is simply more of the same – recycling the old in the guise of doing something new. – Rappler.com

I have a confession to make: I think I may have been infected by yellow fever. They say that people with my affliction can easily become biased or, even worse, supporters of criminals.

Rumor has it that this disease began to incubate sometime in the 1980s, possibly '83, and slowly infected most of our poor compatriots in the years that followed. Oddly, I seem to have contracted my illness only recently, last year, as Rodrigo Duterte rose to power. God help me, when I see Noynoy Aquino or Mar Roxas these days, I wax nostalgic. 

I used to be lukewarm about the Aquinos and the Liberal Party, and to some extent I still am. They are part of a political system that has consistently failed the majority of Filipinos, and the frustrations against them are based on real slights experienced by real citizens. With an authoritarian as president, however, I have come to realize that we should value liberal democrats, however feckless they seem. Better a slightly inefficient oligarch than a mass murderer. I miss PNoy because, as Joni said, you don’t know what you’ve got ‘til it’s gone. 

In 2009 and 2010, I was a PhD student, conducting ethnographic research in Hacienda Luisita, owned by the family of Noynoy Aquino. For many Filipinos, it was a period of moral certainty: Arroyo was bad – she was the new Marcos – and Noynoy was good – he was the new Cory. But the world felt askew in Luisita.

For the farmworkers of that vast sugar plantation, the emerging national consensus was strange. How could the Cojuangco-Aquinos be the saviors of the country when the farmers knew they couldn’t even take care of their backyard? Hacienda Luisita was unproductive, its infrastructure byzantine, its workers underpaid. How could Cory Aquino be a saint when it was under her administration that the tillers of the soil received useless paper stocks instead of land? One respondent told me that he fantasized about stealing Cory’s rosaries so that he could use these to strangle the Cojuangcos.  

The anger of my respondents simmered, but they could not do much. Because they needed labor and land from the Cojuangcos, they had to take the crap thrown at them. So very few organized or complained. In 2010, I wrote that the situation in Luisita was best summarized by the term “prinsipyo o caldero”: If you stick to your principles, you don’t eat. 

Limits of fairy tale

My experiences in Luisita pushed me to consider the limits of our national yellow fairy tale. Like many contemporary Dutertians, I chafed at the people power narrative’s moral certainty; I seethed at what I viewed as hypocritical self-righteousness. Looking back at my writings from the period, I am struck by my singular obsession to tarnish all things yellow: I wrote about Ninoy Aquino’s ties to the Communists (a constant reference of conspiracy theory-oriented pro-Marcos groups), I accused Noynoy of cultivating a “kabarkada Inc.” within his Cabinet, and my first book, Taming People’s Power: The EDSA Revolutions and their Contradictions, was an anti-dilawan manifesto. In the book, I chastised the people we would now call “yellow” for projecting “hope onto spaces within an elite democracy.” 

When one is young, angry, and slightly contrarian, one tends to get tunnel vision. And when one nurtures a detached academic nihilism, one does not consider alternatives. But the world moves on regardless of what scholars say, and alternatives emerge.

In the Philippines, that alternative was called Digong. And Dutertismo became a cure worse than the disease. 

While PNoy was, indeed, elite, and while the inaction in Hacienda Luisita was elitist (reflective of the broader cowardice of Aquino’s Department of Agrarian Reform under the pygmy Gil de los Reyes), there is nothing more elitist than a drug war that systematically targets the poor. 

We have lost so much since PNoy was driven back to Times Street: our sovereignty vis-a-vis the Chinese, a certain level of sanity in our political speech, the admiration of the international community, and our respect for basic human rights. And while we may have gotten rid of people like de los Reyes and the much-maligned Emilio Abaya, we are now subject to the likes of Wigman and Mocha Uson. 

Notice, also, what is happening to our institutions. PNoy damaged the institution of the judiciary when he ousted Chief Justice Renato Corona, but he strengthened others: He cleaned up the bidding processes at DPWH, he streamlined the budgeting process, and he implemented the most sweeping educational reform in recent memory, the K-12. The latter will be his most enduring legacy, resolving an education problem created by one of his earliest predecessors, Manuel Luis Quezon.

Digong, on the other hand, has tarnished the reputation of constitutional bodies like the Ombudsman and the CHR, appointed liars to communications offices, insulted the DFA by initially designating an unqualified American as its head, turned the Department of Justice into a vehicle for vendettas, and, worst of all, he has brutalized the police. 

This is the context in which I  began to appreciate what came before, a context that forced me to see once obscured yellow stars amid the Manila smog, not luminescent but present – at least as of early 2016.  Do I now regret what I once wrote? To a certain degree, yes, but unlike hard-headed Dutertians and their Communist allies, I am comfortable with changing my mind. 

So, yes, I am a proud yellowtard. I am yellowtard because, while I believe in change, I believe in slow, responsible change that does not have a body toll of 8,000. I am a yellowtard because basic democracy represents basic decency.– Rappler.com

Lisandro E. Claudio is an Associate Professor at the Department of History, De La Salle University. 

This text was delivered as a speech on Tuesday, May 16, at the #SheForShe forum of the French Embassy in the Philippines during the "Women Empowerment through the Media" section. The forum highlights different initiatives of women supporting other women in various fields, and explores the current situation of women in the Philippines.

A few years ago, when I started breaking a series of exclusive corruption-related stories on some male senators, a rumor quickly spread among Senate staff. Who was I sleeping with, they said, that I was getting these stories? 

In 2013, when I reported about Janet Napoles’ daughter’s lavish lifestyle, and questioned where she got the money to fund the Hollywood high-rise apartment, sports cars, designer bags and clothes, and extravagant parties, Napoles filed a libel suit against me. The libel suit accused me of being envious of Napoles’ daughter, which was allegedly my motive to spread false and malicious lies. 

And just last year, when I decried the slut-shaming of the president himself towards Senator Leila de Lima, I was attacked online on social media, and called various sexually-laden names, threatened rape and murder, and was accused of sleeping with former president Benigno Aquino III. 

Stereotypes of women within the media industry still very much exist. Very early on in my career, I realized this harsh truth: when female journalists are successful, and doing their job well, it is hard to believe they got there by sheer hard work. It must’ve been because they slept with somebody on the way up. Or their articles are critical, because they’re jealous of another woman or whoever is in power. It cannot be that she just is intelligent, or competent, or fearless. 

And when she is fearless, she will get attacked. One of the most extreme cases of female journalists paying the price for their excellent work, is the case of Khadija Ismayilova, an investigative journalist from Azerbaijan. Khadijah exposed the president’s corruption. When she refused to stop reporting despite anonymous threats, a sex video of her and her boyfriend was anonymously posted online, and went viral. Her own investigation revealed that the government bugged her apartment with hidden cameras, and was responsible for the sex video. She also served time in jail on retaliatory charges. 

In the Philippines, women journalists are relatively more fortunate than their counterparts across the world. Women can succeed here in journalism, and do enjoy representation. They head major networks, run newsrooms, and report from the field. But we don’t need to look far to realize that this is far from reality in other places. 

For two years, I served as the Bureau Chief of Rappler Indonesia, our very first international bureau. I was one of a handful of Bureau Chiefs that were women. Most top editors in Indonesia are still men. As a woman journalist, Indonesian government officials often commented on my looks, asked about my marital status, and were often uncomfortably touchy. In Indonesia, a women’s march was mocked and laughed at. 

But just because women journalists are slightly better off in the Philippines, and we occupy positions of power in the industry, it does not mean the battle is over. All one has to do is look at social media to realize how far we yet have to go.  

I could talk about the importance of having good representation of women in the news, to shape discussions around current events, and to cover a wide variety of topics related to women and their struggles. I could talk about the importance of fighting stereotypes in media, of having women journalists who are strong and fearless and critical, rather than just well-dressed and beautiful. But today, I want to talk about social media and its role in women empowerment. My whole journalism career has been focused on the digital space. This is what I know.

Rappler is the top online only news website in the Philippines. We call ourselves a social news network. Our bloodline is digital. We thrive on social media, disseminate news and report on social media, create conversations and engage through social media. I do not have to tell you how powerful social media is. It has toppled dictators and have helped shape elections. We all know this. 

And in the feminism movement, it has also become indispensable.  

Feminism on social media

Social media has swiftly, and widely spread feminism ideologies. Social media, specifically hashtags and online campaigns, have given women around the world a voice. It has shed light on women’s issues that were not previously discussed and enhances conversations around topics not covered by mainstream media. It triggers participation for real-life campaigns. And in many cases, these seemingly simple hashtags have instigated change.

In 2014, Victoria’s Secret faced widespread social media backlash for their campaign “The Perfect Body.” An online petition on Change.org quickly racked up 30,000 signatures in a few hours. Victoria’s Secret listened to public outrage, and opted for the less damaging “A Body for Every Body,” which is a healthier, more inclusive message to send to young women. 

We also saw the hashtag #BringBackOurGirls after Boko Haram abducted schoolgirls in Nigeria. The hashtag aimed to pressure their release. Some of the girls were eventually released after years, and while it cannot be simply attributed to this hashtag, the global movement did raise awareness about the struggles of women in West Africa and pressured Nigerian authorities. After lengthy negotiations, the government struck a deal with Boko Haram, and issued a statement which read, “The president has repeatedly expressed his total commitment towards ensuring the safe return of the #ChibokGirls,” referring to one of the social media campaigns initiated for the girls. 

Even Rappler’s own #SaveMaryJane, helped shed light to yet another women’s issue. The hashtag’s main aim was to spare the life of Mary Jane, a Filipina on death row in Indonesia for allegedly smuggling heroin into the country. It worked. It pressured then president Aquino to personally appeal to Indonesia President Joko Widodo, who ordered that Mary Jane be pulled from the line just minutes before her execution. But the hashtag also raised awareness on women as victims of drug trafficking.

And of course here, just recently, social media was unforgiving to Senator Tito Sotto for shaming a single mother – although it remains to be seen whether that has made any impact on his future behavior. One would hope some men, seeing the backlash, would at least rethink misogynistic comments and opinions like his.

Downside

Social media, through its pace of dissemination, and its reach, has become a massive tool for women empowerment. It has also helped share encouragement between women, the ultimate #SheForShe instigator. The like button, which has served as a virtual hug to each other, are some ways women are able to empathize with those who share their personal experience online. Pantsuit Nation, which was first started to rally camaraderie among Hillary Clinton supporters in 2016, is a secret Facebook page which has seen thousands of women share their own stories and offer support to one another. It is now almost 4 million members strong.

But as we all know, social media has also been used to silence the voices of women, through online abuse. Women in power and women journalists are especially targeted in these attacks. Studies have consistently shown that the threat and attacks against women online are distinctly different from men’s. While both genders receive physical threats, those against women are sexually-related, meant to assert dominance, silence and intimidate. Social media has been used to spread misogyny and have encouraged some sexists to come out of the woodwork, when they see that hateful comments receive many likes. 

Additionally, the term “slacktivism” has also been used to describe digital activism, since liking and sharing online makes people feel good, even when the online campaign has no real concrete political or social impact. We must be cautious about falling into this trap. 

What is certain is social media is here to stay, and it will continue to play a role in women empowerment and the advancement of feminism. What matters is how well and responsibly we use it. – Rappler.com

The planned revocation of two agribusiness contracts in Mindanao puts a spotlight on the state of agrarian reform in commercial farms and plantations in the country.

The first is a case filed at the Presidential Agrarian Reform Council (PARC), the highest agrarian reform policy making body, to cancel the contract between Marsman Estate Plantation, Inc. (MEPI) and over 700 agrarian reform beneficiaries (ARB) of the Davao Marsman ARB Development Cooperative. 

The MEPI deal involves a leaseback agreement for 30 years covering close to 800 hectares of agricultural land. 

The second is the controversial 25-year renewal in 2003 of a joint venture agreement between the Bureau of Corrections and the Tagum Agricultural Development Co. (Tadeco), owned by the family of Davao del Norte Rep. Antonio Floirendo Jr.

The agreement, originally entered into 1969 during the Marcos regime, allowed Tadeco to convert 5,308 hectares of the Davao Penal and Prison Farm into a commercial banana export plantation. While the political motivations for voiding the contracts in both cases differ, at their core is a re-evaluation of what is known as alternative venture agreements (AVAs), which were introduced after the lapse of the 10-year deferment period of redistributing commercial farms and plantations in 1998 under the 1988 Comprehensive Agrarian Reform Program (CARP).

Dissecting AVAs 

An AVA is an “entrepreneurial collaboration between ARBs and private investors to implement an agribusiness venture on lands distributed under CARP,” a mechanism first introduced during the time of former president Joseph Estrada. They can take the form of lease contracts, joint ventures, production, processing and marketing agreements, build-operate-transfer, and management and service contracts. AVAs are promoted by the Department of Agrarian Reform (DAR) to sustain farm operation and enhance the productivity of lands awarded to ARBs through access to capital, farming technology, and markets provided by private investors. 

DAR reports that, as of October 2015, there were 433 AVAs covering 57,734.29 hectares and involving 45,399 ARBs. These figures, however, may be understated as DAR admits it does not have a complete inventory of all AVAs. Of the total area, 11 percent or more than 6,000 hectares of lands are located in Region XI, specifically Davao del Norte, where MEPI and Tadeco are located. 

Agrarian reform advocates criticize AVAs for their conceptual and policy flaws as the state virtually abandons its legal mandate to provide adequate support services to ARBs, surrendering this to the private sector. This results in ARBs being subjected to onerous arrangements that constitute a virtual reversal of agrarian reform goals such as non-transfer of control of land and production as well as unfair contracts. For instance, leaseback arrangements in pineapple plantations in Bukidnon, where ARBs rent out their land to the former landowner or company such as DOLE or Del Monte for a specified time period (usually 25 years) are deemed as "ownership without control" of the land or the income from its use. 

A 2016 study by Oxfam and IDEALS on 5 AVAs in Mindanao concluded the following:

1. “financial control devices written into the contract guaranteed the banana farmers’ full dependence on their buyer, with the buyer having near absolute control over the cooperative’s financial health;
2. the contracts also reveal a clear bias in favor of the buyers;
3. the contracts offer no effective remedy against abuses; and
4. government failed to regulate AVAs and to empower farmers to negotiate from a position of strength.”

The AVA situation, therefore, has “relegated the farmers back to being workers in their own land, driving them back into a vicious cycle of debt and poverty …” 

Evidence on the ground confirm that ARBs in these areas are frequently on the receiving end of contract negotiations with former landowners or companies and thus, are compelled to accept terms that are lopsided and disadvantageous to them. In some cases, AVAs are used to evade agrarian reform altogether with landowners or companies choosing their own set of beneficiaries that are loyal to them, thereby maintaining virtual control over the landholding. 

These identified inherent dangers of AVAs have forced DAR (under the previous Aquino administration) to conduct investigations of existing contracts, including the case of MEPI. Similarly, during the 16th Congress, the Committee on Agrarian Reform under Rep. Teddy Baguilat’s chairpersonship conducted similar investigations in Mindanao.  

Under the current leadership of Secretary Rafael Mariano, DAR is continuing the review of all AVAs and has recently revised the administrative order regulating such schemes to put more teeth into the policy. These are welcome developments. In September 2016, the PARC approved the DAR recommendation to void the AVA between the Marsman group and ARB cooperatives “for violations of several provisions of the contract lease.”

In April 2017, the country’s Solicitor General ruled that the BuCor-Tadeco agreement is void as it violates the Constitution and the Public Land Act on the length of lease, the amount of land that may be leased by a corporation, and for not having gone through a public bidding.

ARBs in commercial farms can be efficient, too

AVA advocates often argue that ARBs or small farmers in commercial lands are incompetent and inefficient in producing and marketing export bananas.

This is belied in the case of Dionisio Malaya, an ARB who was awarded land from MEPI in 2003 and is a member of the Marsman Agrarian Reform Beneficiaries Cooperative (MARBCO) who earned an annual net income of more than Php430,000 in 2015. Malaya is one of the 192 ARBs who received lands under CARP but chose to produce and operate independently under MARBCO. He argues that a “lease contract agreement will only benefit high ranking officials of the company but not the beneficiaries who remains rank-and file-workers”. MARCBO is just one of the several ARB banana cooperatives that have been managing production and marketing of bananas on their own for the last ten years. 

Recent studies show that the banana export industry has changed from twenty years ago when large companies affiliated with the Philippine Banana Growers and Employers Association (PBGEA) enjoyed quasi-monopoly in their base areas.

Currently, the market is more competitive with multiple local and foreign buyers and a thriving spot market. Cooperatives take advantage of this opportunity, which allows more room for negotiating better prices and other marketing terms. 

On reform and social justice

A recent survey conducted by Focus on the Global South reveal that ARBs in commercial farms and plantations have multiple visions and hope. When asked what to do with a piece of CARP-land, their responses range from pragmatism, realism and hope. They all know the risks and hard work involved in the production and marketing of cash crops. As farmworkers, they have breathed and lived with these challenges on a daily basis.

But for many of them, owning a piece of land is better than working for a landowner or company under unsustainable labor conditions, where voice and dignity do not matter.

The likes of Dionisio Malaya remain hopeful that “CARP can be truly beneficial to the landless people, much more if the DAR support program will be enhanced and abolish the lease contract scheme and AVAs in the program’s implementation”.

For the vision of agrarian reform of overturning inequalities in land ownership and control to be realized, government should take a proactive role in supporting small farmers in all croplands. This includes resisting any form of reversals of land redistribution particularly those coming from large agribusiness corporations in the guise of promoting farm productivity and exports. – Rappler.com

Mary Ann Manahan is a Senior Program Officer with Focus on the Global South, an activist think tank and advocacy organization with offices in Bangkok, Manila, Cambodia and India. Eduardo C. Tadem, Ph.D., is Professorial Lecturer in Asian Studies at the University of the Philippines Diliman and president of Freedom from Debt Coalition.

Everything seems to be going Duterte’s way. With Western criticism of his war on drugs and anti-human rights policies, Duterte has found a friend in China, a country that is not exactly famous for its respect and adherence to human rights or democracy, having been an authoritarian one-party communist state in the past 77 years.

Duterte’s relationship with China may be as personal as it is now official government policy. And it is paying off. In the recent UNHRC universal periodic review for the Philippines, only China out of 47 countries believed Senator Cayetano’s spiel on the Duterte regime’s “sterling” human rights record. The rest of the 46 countries did not buy Cayetano’s sales pitch and instead asked the Duterte regime to stop the extrajudicial killings under his government.

Apparently having a big friend to rely on and take your side in international human rights forums is not the only consequence of Duterte’s friendship with China. The friendship is no longer between him and China, but has become a new chapter in our foreign relations as the Philippines’ rejuvenated relationship with its most dangerous rival over its claims in the West Philippine Sea. A new economic paradigm for Philippine development is in the offing, and it eerily involves mortgaging our future once again to an economic giant, this time of a rising Chinese expansionism, even its own sort of communist imperialism.

Remember the past

The recent agreements on Chinese infrastructure loans, invariably known as the “Build, Build, Build” program tucked under the belt of China’s “One Belt, One Road” framework of financing international infrastructure projects to benefit Chinese trade and commerce, raise a lot of questions on the Philippines’ capability to muscle its own independent terms vis-à-vis the economic giant.

We can’t help but be reminded of our past experience of how our country was once bankrupted by a huge foreign debt contracted by an authoritarian regime. Is it too far off that Duterte will not only replicate the Marcos dictatorship’s human rights record, but will also repeat its debacle of ruining the Philippine economy with a huge foreign debt that our children will still be paying, long after Duterte has rotted in his grave? (READ: Ferdinand Marcos' economic disaster)

It is the same thing Marcos has done to us. Long after he has been dead and buried – and re-buried even as a national hero at the Libingan ng mga Bayani – Marcos continues to burden the Philippines with the consequences of the foreign debt incurred during his time. It would therefore be foolish to forget our history, of how an authoritarian regime much like the present one has once bankrupted our nation in foreign debt, while amassing hidden wealth from international kickbacks and bribes. 

Reliving the Marcos nightmare

This early, international financial experts are already sounding the alarm on the Philippines. The new loan agreements could increase Philippine foreign debt from $123 billion to $452 billion, making the country’s debt to GDP ratio rise to 197%, or the second to worst in the world. The experts warn: "Dutertenomics, fueled by expensive loans from China, will put the Philippines into virtual debt bondage if allowed to proceed."

There are also warnings that some fly-by-night corporations with insufficient capitalization and track record, and identified with Duterte and his allies, are geared to reap the bounty in these deals, with 2%-7% in finders’ fees. Instead of Dutertenomics, we might be witnesses to Duterte Cronyism, a reprise of the Marcos business dummies of martial law, which up to the present control a large part of the Philippine economy after the monopolist growth of their businesses that were spawned in the belly of crony capitalism.

Economic imperialism of a rising giant, onerous long-term foreign loans for infrastructure projects at high interest rates, kickbacks for paper corporations and dummies, a dictator and his cronies. We might be reliving a nightmare. (READ: Marcos marked 'golden years' of PH economy? Look at data)

While we still have time, and while we still can, we should demand from the Duterte regime a full accounting of the terms of these contracted loans, the corporations and individuals behind the corporations who stand to benefit from them, the impact of incurring a huge Chinese foreign debt on our West Philippine Sea claims, and the capability of administrations beyond Duterte to pay for these loans other than by selling out our national patrimony to China.

A dictator once mortgaged our future to imperialist powers and bankrupted this nation. We cannot let another dictator do that again. – Rappler.com

Senator Leila de Lima, a fierce critic of President Rodrigo Duterte, has been detained at the Philippine National Police Custodial Center in Camp Crame since her arrest on drug-related charges on February 24, 2017. She is a former justice secretary and chairperson of the Commission on Human Rights.

My social media feed follows a pattern. Caught in a stream of cute dog photos would be staunch criticism of the government – “Access to Contraception Nears End”, “Duterte Admits ‘Ogling’ Over VPs Legs”, “Amnesty Reveals Terrifying Truths About Drug War”. A bit more scrolling then I’ll find a call-for-action championing either LGBT rights or gender equality. Occasionally, I come across a flattering piece on our Vice President.

Facebook’s newsfeed algorithm, which curates content to suit my interests, is doing a fine job. I like a few of these posts and I share the punchiest before I move on with my life. My friends and I hold the same views. Duterte is bad; gay marriage is good; feminism is best. There is comfort in knowing your immediate circle holds on to the same truths as you do.

But it gets old. Fruitful conversations are rare; a ten-minute discussion is a flowery chain of reaffirmations. I know it is impossible that everyone in my demographic – young, literate, of at least average IQ – agree on these issues. But where are my peers who can knock out this disillusion? Months before the election, I chose my truths and picked a color. In a few weeks, Duterte will finish off one of his 6 years on the job. It's time I actively seek out the other side.

Duterte's millennial supporters

My friends helped me invite millennials to answer a brief survey I posted online. We were looking for people who looked like us. They may have read the same books we have, or have gone to the same schools. But unlike us, they actually have positive sentiments for the President and the administration.

Is it possible to know the same truths yet stand on the other side? The protocol when arguing with people who do not share my beliefs is simple. I just reassure myself they don’t know better. The other side makes this easier than it should be. 

Take for example Duterte Youth, the ad-hoc representation for pro-administration youth. In the demonstrations by the “yellows” that this group boldly picketed, the Duterte Youth group has been consistent at only one thing: looking like a badly attended PTA meeting.

Where is the clever banter we’ve come to expect from millennials? And the million-dollar question: Where are the young people?

Surprisingly, getting responses for my survey was easy.

Reading the answers, however, is a different story. After all, these are people who oppose me. Instead of hitting back, I have resolved to listening, biting my lip and only speaking to clarify, not denounce. The point is to understand why these people have a different take on issues that have very obvious answers.

My survey asked respondents about their support for Duterte, the drug war, contraception, and same-sex marriage. I wanted to work on just Duterte but I sent in the other questions just in case I could find something interesting.

Everyone who took the time to answer my survey is pro-Duterte. All, except one citing the Bible, supported gay marriage.

Everyone was also strongly in favor of wider access to contraception. Duterte was initially for same-sex unions before denouncing it a few months back. He still thinks contraception must remain widely available. And until he changes his mind, he supports the distribution of condoms in schools.

No to drug war

The answers I received were sober and not the prattling I have imagined. They understand that his presidency isn’t a perfect one. When asked about their thoughts on the drug war, many answered in the negative. 

One supporter had this to say: “Yes, he could be impeached if given enough evidence of his involvement in the drug war.”

Duterte’s drug war has grabbed headlines from almost every major paper around the world. The President also stands accused of crimes against humanity at the International Criminal Court. Over 8,000 drug suspects have been killed since his ascent to power, yet many deny his role in the cull. The President's excessively protectionary attitude towards the police backfired when members of the force were sacked and charged for the kidnapping and killing of Jee Ick Joo. 

But not everyone is convinced he is accountable. An 18-year-old respondent who refused to be identified had this to say: “The killings were committed by fellow drug-associated people, cops who raided a house and assumed that the residents posed a threat, and vigilantes. The cops who used lethal force do feel like they are protected by the President.” A 29-year old nurse echoed this sentiment.

The respondent then links to a 1987 story in The New York Times. In that year, then-President Corazon Aquino joined the call for unarmed vigilantism against Communist uprisings in the country. But the public didn’t care for peace and when a Communist leader was shot in public, the country was stimulated. Back then, death by bullet was kind. It was machetes and bolos that roamed the streets and lying on their path would be bodies of both “commies” and the innocent.  

Are the inherent characteristics of Filipinos to blame for the killing? When Duterte defends summary executions, does his error lie simply in forgetting the violent tendencies of his audience?

Between China and the world

Another issue that plagues Duterte supporters and detractors alike is his seemingly unsure footing in the growing rift between global powers. Our President, ergo the country, is sending mixed signals not only to global community but also to his constituents

The same respondent who mentioned the New York Times story had this to say: “I understand that we do want China as a trade partner and ally but the international community will back us up if we push our claim (also that's a lot of money in terms of resources and trade routes).”

But another 19-year-old college student who prefers anonymity is more understanding: “We can't head on directly with someone that has learned from their downfall in the 19th century, where 8 countries in the Eight-Nation Alliance wrecked China. We have to prove to China that we can be friends.”

This explanation recalls the Boxer Rebellion, an anti-foreigner movement in China that peaked in 1900. Eight nations, countries with a strong presence in the region rallied troops in Beijing to  quell the rebellion and the Qin Dynasty that supported it. For this respondent, Duterte’s warmth toward Xi Jinping is cunning. If the peace comes to an end, it would be smart to side with the country that had deeply-rooted motivation for winning. Whether this remains relevant today, I can’t really tell. But with increasing bold measures for the Chinese to strengthen their military and by recently initiating closer economic ties in the region, it's an angle worth considering.

I’ve practiced patience in hearing the other side with as much grace as I could muster. Apparently, I did not need that much. These Duterte supporters were easy to talk to, reasonable and had interesting ideas.

When Jim Paredes confronted 7 members of the Duterte Youth at a rally to commemorate the People Power Revolution, he screamed: “Okay! Lie to yourself!” At that moment, Paredes wasn’t spewing vitriol. He embodied the frustrations that many critics of the President, myself included, feel. Why exactly are you doing this to yourselves?

A few months before the election, I actually liked Duterte. He was refreshing in the deluge of well-mannered politicians that scuttled in government halls. Duterte is how you confront a flawed system, with bluntness and disregard for protocol and niceties. I switched sides because of the “Si mayor dapat mauna” comment. It still haunts me that our President had that to say about the gang rape of a woman in his city.

In the Social Weather Station survey, 80% of Filipinos have much trust for the President. I obviously belong to the minority. While the decline is steady (1% per quarter), I have quashed all hopes that people will change their opinion of Duterte anytime soon.  

One answer I got that I neither liked nor hated is this, "Yes, because he is the president we chose." True enough, this is the only election in recent memory where the results for weren’t questioned, at least for the presidency. Almost a year in, surveys still match the claims of Duterte’s popularity.

For now, maybe, this is what we on the other side should all do.

We have to remove the selective filters that plug our ears, ask Duterte supporters why exactly they are doing this, and bite a lip instead of fighting back. If no substantial answer is found, repeat. At the very least, it’s an entertaining ride towards discovery. Sometimes, you strike gold that’s worth at least a few thousand shares on Facebook. – Rappler.com

Leo Lutero is a freelance writer based in Metro Manila. He is a regular contributor to futurist think tank PSFK, and has written for Panay News, The News Today Iloilo and Men's Health Philippines. 

Alex Tizon, the Pulitzer-award winning journalist born in the Philippines, wrote a story about Eudocia Pulido, a woman he called "Lola," their family's slave for 56 years. It's "the story Alex was born to write," says his widow Melissa.

Tizon died at age 57 last March in their home in Oregon.

"My Family's Slave" is the cover story of the June 2017 issue of The Atlantic, touted by observers as the return of the magazine to its roots of being abolitionists of slavery.

I, however, find it difficult to share praises.

Tizon ends the story with a description of Lola's family as they receive her ashes. Tizon had traveled to Lola's hometown in Tarlac to return the dead Pulido, decades after holding her hostage in America.

Lola's relatives sobbed, of course, but just like a typical Filipino family, they prepared a feast. 

"Everybody started filing into the kitchen, puffy-eyed but suddenly lighter and ready to tell stories," Tizon writes.

It concludes his well-written account of his Lola's life, the woman who served their family without being paid and the woman his parents subjected to verbal and emotional torment. 

Slave

Lola was Tizon's grandfather's gift to his mother, who had just then turned 12. According to Tizon, his grandfather offered Lola "food and shelter" in exchange for "committing to care" for his mother if only to escape an unhappy life where she was set for an arranged marriage.

Lola became their maid since then, which continued until they moved to America where she would eventually become an illegal immigrant as the rest of the family became citizens.

The family never paid her, nor gave her any allowance. Tizon's parents were also cruel to her, described in detail in the article.

"Mom would come home and upbraid Lola for not cleaning the house well enough or for forgetting to bring in the mail. 'Didn’t I tell you I want the letters here when I come home?' she would say in Tagalog, her voice venomous. 'It’s not hard naman! An idiot could remember.' Then my father would arrive and take his turn. When Dad raised his voice, everyone in the house shrank. Sometimes my parents would team up until Lola broke down crying, almost as though that was their goal," Tizon writes.

His parents did not allow her to fly home to the Philippines when her parents died. His mother had refused to pay for dental checkup when she squirmed with toothache. 

"She used to get angry whenever Lola felt ill. She didn’t want to deal with the disruption and the expense, and would accuse Lola of faking or failing to take care of herself," Tizon writes of his mother.

And so, that the story ends with a light feast angers me. For me, the real story is what was left out, what follows that feast in Lola's home in Tarlac.

What does Lola's family think of her fate, or of the Tizon family? Why had they stayed quiet? Could they have fought for Lola? My guess is maybe not. 

I grew up in that province, I grew up immersed in the kind of poverty that makes it bearable for a mother to give up a child, a sibling to give up a sibling because it's the only way they have a chance. 

I grew up immersed in the kind of culture that glorifies being in America. I wonder whether Lola's sister thought it better that she was living the American dream at least, never mind that she doesn't send money home. I wonder whether Lola had told them she was not being paid. I wonder what she had told them at all.

I am angry that the story ends in Lola's relatives feeling light and ready to eat. The story should have ended openly.

Off the top of my head, I ask: What are the laws, whether Philippine or American, on human trafficking that had been violated in the unpaid employment of Lola? Would Lola's relatives be able to claim compensation from the living relatives of the Tizon family?

Editorial choices

According to Jeffrey Goldberg, Tizon's editor in The Atlantic, Tizon had sent the story to the magazine before his death. He never found out of the magazine's decision to put him on cover. 

We will never be able to tell whether Tizon would have edited his writing, stuck to it, or how he would react to the contoversies that his story has stirred.

So we are left with only this piece to analyze. And in the piece, there is a sense of justification. Tizon devoted a huge chunk to describing the good things he had done for Lola when his parents were already gone.

Tizon flew her back to the Philippines. By then his own family had started paying her handsomely – $200 a week, he says. Then he followed her to the Philippines and asked "You want to go home?" Lola said yes.

Tizon then follows that with stories of a happy Lola, the happy family vacations, the room with word-puzzle booklets. 

It doesn't talk about how Lola must have felt to realize she had been robbed of her home, forced to go back to America because it's now the only place she knows.

Instead, Tizon talks about the garden she returns to in America, the "roses and tulips and every kind of orchid" and that she "spent whole afternoons tending it."

Why did she love gardening? In that chunk of the story, Tizon writes about always reminding Lola she was no longer a slave. But why did Lola become a compulsive cleaner, even when Tizon had made it clear she was no longer required to clean? Maybe Tizon had asked, but he doesn't tell us.

Tizon's widow also reveals on Facebook that the black and white portrait of Lola was taken several years ago. It had been a longtime plan to turn Lola into this story – why wasn't she interviewed, why wasn't her voice given more prominence?

Some people say it is for Tizon to write this story in any way he wanted, that this was his memoir, his tale to tell. If so, then let his editorial choices speak of his intentions.

Perhaps the latter part of the story where he describes Lola's happy last years is his way of asking for forgiveness. Forgiveness from himself, or from Lola, or from Lola's relatives who now have to confront what I could only imagine is a turbulence of emotions having to read what became of Lola's life in the Land of the Free. 

Casting judgment

Every apocalypse is personal, a friend likes to say. "Don't be so righteous," some readers exclaim on social media.

Perhaps it wouldn't be fair to cast so much judgment on Tizon and his family. We do not know their circumstances. However, when he decided to write the piece, he had given us – the readers – the right to his story. It is no longer just his.

 And as parts of the story, it is just right, even necessary, that we ask questions. 

"Why did you wait that long to help?" 

"Did you not earn enough to pay Lola yourself?" 

"How far did you go – other than teaching her to drive a car – to try to help her?"

"Did you say sorry to Lola's relatives when you met them?" 

"What story did you tell authorities when you applied for her amnesty?"

"When you 'searched for your Asian self' when writing your book, what did you realize about your roots that are in conflict with how your family treated Lola?" 

Had Tizon not been part of this family and was tipped to this story, I would like to believe that as a journalist, he would have also wanted to ask these questions. It's just what journalists do. And it's what the readers need.

Which is why I believe that Tizon should have gotten somebody else to write his story. When The Atlantic allowed him to write it, they allowed for a singular view on an issue so complex. An outsider would have asked the hard questions, it would have afforded us a more objective view into the Tizon family and Tizon himself – his inner struggles and how he resolved it as time passed.

An outsider would have exacted some accountability.

Most importantly, an outsider would have talked to some of Lola's relatives. Are you not interested to find out how they really feel outside of Tizon's description of them in that feast in Tarlac?

Because at this point, with Lola dead, their voices are the voices of justice, not Tizon's. And justice is what stories are for. 

"Take this piece as it is, which is a memoir, and not an investigative piece," says someone else. 

When the issue is slavery, which resonates around the world especially to Filipinos who send millions of our own for domestic jobs abroad, we shouldn't ever adjust our standards so low that we let a piece go unchallenged "because it's a memoir."

There is also a cultural justification when Tizon refers to our pre-colonial history of owning slaves.

Then he adds: "Traditions persisted under different guises, even after the U.S. took control of the islands in 1898. Today even the poor can have utusans or katulongs (“helpers”) or kasambahays (“domestics”), as long as there are people even poorer. The pool is deep."

A fellow journalist defends Tizon as a "person who represents the marginalized, the immigrant, the victim of a feudal society." 

We conveniently forget that Tizon is the son of a lawyer and a doctor and afforded education from no less than Stanford. Just on that he's already a cut above the rest of Filipino immigrants in America.

It doesn't take away his struggles and hard work, but to afford him the narrative privileges of being minority just because he was born to the ethnic minority is also cultural misappropriation.

And in any case, whether he's Asian, or white, or black, he was complicit to slavery, and that in itself is wrong, no matter the race.

I struggled to write this because it feels betraying my own: Tizon is a Filipino, a journalist and an immigrant. I should be empathetic.

But I'm choosing to take a hard look at the mirror and recognize that this is my problem too, that this is our problem too.

Have we treated our house helps in the most humane way we can? Are we paying them the minimum wage? Are we giving them statutory benefits? Are we allowing them 8 hours off daily, two days off weekly? All of which, by the way, are provided for in the Kasambahay Law.

This is the conversation now, the conversation that The Atlantic evaded when they decided they were going to go for a beautiful memoir, instead of a hard-hitting piece.

"I glanced at the empty tote bag on the bench, and knew it was right to bring Lola back to the place where she’d been born," is Tizon's final sentence.

Lola is home, so it's now up to us to continue the conversation. To stop would be to betray her memory, and maybe even Tizon's.

Because the story sure should not end with a light-hearted feast, because if Lola had been your lola, would you have been able to eat in peace? – Rappler.com

Siksik sa trapik
Dakdak at halik
Hilik at pitik
Katabi na lintik
Sabak at balik

– Rappler.com 

#FridayFeels is a cartoon series by the Rappler Creatives Team. Cathartic, light, but relevant, it's a welcome break from your heavy news feed! You can pitch illustration ideas by sending a message to the Rappler Facebook page. 

I read the story of the late Alex Tizon with both horror and heartbreak. I was heartbroken because I was reminded of my own hired mother, and the guilt I also carry for this woman who was with my family for thirty years.

I was horrified to read about Lola's hardships and her suffering under the Tizons, but I wasn't completely surprised. The master-servant dynamic is deeply ingrained in Filipino culture. The occurrence of cruelty, physical and verbal abuse in these households may no longer be typical, but is still just a matter of luck. Over 1.5 million Filipinas fill domestic roles in homes all over the world, and reports of sexual and physical abuse are considered common occupational hazards.

Those in the Philippines who have access to this article have probably employed household help at least one point in their lives. All but the poorest families outsource one or all of their household chores or childcare needs to someone else. There is no shortage of this labor source or need, and until jobs and education are available in the most rural areas, paying someone to do your housework is still cheaper than spending your own time doing chores.

While Tizon's story of his family keeping a domestic worker captive for 56 years is the exception, the relationships which develop between Filipino families and household workers are the rule. Like all of my peers, the presence of yayas and maids were a given in our homes and it's easy for the line between servant and family to blur, for servitude to turn into love, for dependence to turn into resentment and disrespect. Whether this love is born from lack of choice or a kind of Stockholm Syndrome, the fact is that many of us are raised with the love and devotion of one or more household employees who are sometimes more present in our lives than our parents.

Because of the popularity of Tizon's piece, Filipino master-servant relationships are suddenly in the international spotlight. We lash out at outsiders for assuming that all such relationships are akin to slavery, and rage at their assumption that any affection we have for our help is a defense of it.

While a complete understanding of these relationships requires a closer look at Philippine culture and colonial history, it's important for us to be open to outside voices as well. Instead of being consumed by how we are perceived (or misinterpreted) by outsiders, how about just taking a look at our own home situations and observing the power structures behind it? What is wrong with our treatment of our home staff? What can we change?

Fundamental family structures

Of course we get defensive. These are our fundamental family structures. This is the way things are. These arrangements have allowed us to prosper and have ensured our health and comfort. I don't say this proudly as it is built on the backs of others, but it is what we are accustomed to and for many, it is something they are not willing to give up.

In my family, having domestic helpers allowed both of my parents to work. It allowed my siblings and I to focus on our education, not having to worry about household chores or caring for children. It gave my parents a social life, time to spend their non-working hours dining out, watching TV, and socializing instead of bathing and feeding children, doing laundry, or making meals. Because many of us who employ a katulong or kasambahay (helper) also struggle financially, it is difficult to admit our privilege and see ourselves as party to social inequity.  

I was my yaya's baby, and as an adult I now understand that my love for her was built on the rock of consistency, which was in turn at the expense of her social mobility. Had she been offered another viable opportunity other than mothering me and my siblings, she would have left. I would not be the person I am today if she left me. I realize that I am both indebted to her for her love, but I also benefited from her being trapped to serve me. 

Our contribution to servitude

Whether we admit it or not, we have contributed to the perpetuation of these master-servant structures. We ignore the cringe of sorrow and guilt when a helper is scolded by our parents, and have even inherited the skill of berating them ourselves. We've let slide more than one insult implying their poverty, hunger, greed or dependence on us. If our families had a chance like the Tizons to move abroad and bring one of our helpers, how likely would it be for us to ensure their fair wages? Wouldn't we just assume that it will be a step up for them to leave the country?

In a way, we are all Tizons. We've lived with these relationships for generations and have become comfortable with them. We've avoided housework through convenience or our parents' prohibition. We refused to entertain that our servants deserve as much as we get, saying "Pwede na yan sa kanila (That will do for them)" when talking about benefits we do provide. We failed to identify the reasons they've resorted to a life serving us. Instead we've made excuses for them, like they can leave if they want to, or that it's their fault for not going to school - something that was so easy for us to do when all our other needs were already met - by them.

We may not beat our helpers or work them without pay, but we've created a situation for them to be tied to us for most of their lives. We recruit them as young girls from the provinces. We limit their interactions with others. We don't offer opportunities for them to change the course of their lives like options to continue their education or learn new skills to start businesses.

Having never been comfortable with the master-servant dynamic, I decided to do away with household help entirely when I left my family home. Even when I lived in Manila, had a full-time job and school in the evening, I took care of my own cleaning, laundry, and cooking. I used public transportation. This is not an option for many people, especially those with children. For many parents, not being able to work full-time due to housework and childcare would lead to financial ruin. It shames me to have to say it out loud but it is in our best interest to treat our helpers with the knowledge that we also need them in our lives.

The Filipino-American sociologist Dr Anthony Ocampo said that Alex Tizon's story is a Haley's Comet moment for us, and to not let it pass us by. He is right. It is a great opportunity to think about these relationships and how we treat those we say are members of the family but who never get a seat at our table or an opportunity for a better life. 

Here are some ways we can improve our helpers' lives in our homes:

1) Stop treating your helpers' employment as a favor to them

While it is true that without being employed, most helpers would not have any employment opportunities and their families would suffer, it is a very common sentiment for us to treat their employment as a charitable act. We say that if not for us they would not have food, shelter, or clothing. We say that at least with us they don't have to worry about their security as women or being forced to marry someone their family dictates. We always say, "Mabuti nga dito- (it's better here because-)", and we're able to pat ourselves on the back that their life of servitude is a favor we do for them and they should be nothing else but grateful for anything extra we can provide.

Be reminded that you may pay them for their service, but doing it with love and concern for our families is out of their hearts.

2) Refrain from using servitude as an insult

If you've ever said "mukhang katulong/labandera/driver/kusinera (looks like a maid/laundrywoman/driver/cook)" or laughed at this reference, you have already viewed domestic helpers as lower than you. You have prescribed an appearance of lowliness and poverty on them.

This isn't unusual, and we've all been guilty of this that we know exactly what "mukhang katulong" looks like - unkempt, dark-skinned, dirty, unfashionable, and with signs of manual labor on their hands and bodies. We use this to insult people to make them feel the stigma of appearing lower class, as if manual work or poverty is an indicator of our worth in society.

3) Provide opportunities for economic advancement

If you truly care about your household employees, give them a chance to improve their lives. While the presence of help allowed both my parents to work and provide for our education, the truth is that our economic prospects improved on the backs of those who did the work of the home. In the meantime our help have no opportunity to improve themselves.

It is seldom that an employer offers options for education or helps them start a business or build a home, perhaps because it is to our advantage if our domestic helpers remain so. Being able to imagine a life outside of servitude makes it more likely for them to flee. We need to stop thinking that we're the only ones who deserve a chance at prosperity.  

4) Resist the mindset that helpers deserve less 

While it's true that we don't beat or work our helpers without pay, we believe that inferior versions of what we get are enough for people of their class. Many homes feed their help a different grade of rice, or vegetables and fish instead of meat. Take a look at maids' rooms and you can see the disparity between our perception of their comfort levels versus our own. There is an unspoken objective to never spoil one's help lest they get accustomed to a life like their master's and demand more. Even with the Batas Kasambahay, the life of a domestic worker in the Philippines affords little or no protection. Even by your silence or complacency, please don't be complicit in maintaining subhuman conditions for anyone.

A good lesson in the debate about the Tizons and Lola Pulido is the complexity of what we initially see as simple issues. It's the gray areas that bring things to light and force discussions. It was Alex Tizon's love for Lola that compelled him to write her story. If he didn't love her, he would never recognize that anything was wrong with their relationship. He would not expose himself and his family as slave owners and be subject to the judgment of the world. The fact is, just like my guilt about my yaya, Alex could never have made things right for Lola. Yes, he could have done better. He tried and he failed. But whether or not it was his intention, he gave us this story for us to do better with the Lolas in our lives.

Both slave and master are gone now. Tizon's story is forcing us to face our own relationships with our household helpers. Where do we overstep our boundaries? What do we assume on their behalf? What about their existence do we take advantage of? What about the consistency of our comfort is at the expense of their success?

These are important questions we need to answer if we are to believe we are fair and caring employers. We cannot walk away from these responsibilities if we truly reject the concept of keeping slaves. – Rappler.com

It's been some time since President Duterte uttered the name of Ferdinand ("Bongbong") Marcos Jr, and, given the frequency with which he did so before, and the reason why – to reaffirm that Bongbong was his anointed – some people feel somewhat relieved.

While they don’t see the neglect as any indication of a weakened standing of Bongbong with Duterte, they are thankful to not be reminded, at least for the moment, of the prospect of a second-generation Marcos presidency.

To be sure, the Duterte-Marcos partnership is too strong and too deep-rooted to be shaken. For one thing, Duterte, by his own proud admission, received financial support from the Marcoses for his electoral campaign; for another thing, not only is he a professed idolater of Ferdinand Marcos Sr, he has threatened to rule by martial law, as Marcos himself ruled, for 14 years – the idolatry is so pure he had even proposed that Marcos be buried a hero – and he was. Now he sees Bongbong as both a worthy son to the father and a worthy heir to him.

So much, indeed, is stacked up in Bongbong's favor a dissenter could use some respite from being reminded about it. There is simply so much else going on that is difficult enough to take.

Bongbong came close to being elected vice president. Victory would have made him official successor to Duterte if he chose to abdicate, a scenario Duterte himself raised as a possibility. But the possibility is not automatically eliminated by Bongbong’s defeat; he is vigorously disputing Leni Robredo's win over him, and lately he has been showing a spoiled brat’s impatience with the Supreme Court.

“Public interest demands,” he told the Court, that it resolve his protest “with dispatch, to determine once and for all the genuine choice of the electorate . . . it is neither fair nor just to keep in office for an uncertain period one whose right to it is under suspicion.”

Understandably, Bongbong can’t wait. He is not used to waiting – or, for that matter, losing. During his father’s regime, he – as everyone else in the family and certain cronies – had got his wishes without delay, until a popular rising booted them out of power. But life in exile had been too short and too comfortable for any chastening to happen.

Perspective on justice

In 6 years Bongbong was back in the country with his widowed mother and two sisters, and in no time all of them were readmitted into proper society and returned to power. Mom Imelda is now in Congress, older sister Imee governor of their province, and younger sister Irene a high-society butterfly and patroness of the arts. Bongbong had been a senator himself before he ran for vice-president. None of them spent a day in jail for the murder and plunder of the Marcos dictatorship.

Now, how can Bongbong be expected to be patient? And, with his perspective on justice formed by observing his own father make the law and dictate on the courts, how can he be expected to be deferential toward the Supreme Court? Is this not the same Supreme Court that has allowed his father to be buried a hero, thereby effectively granting President Duterte’s open wish?

Bongbong’s conception of “public interest” or what is “fair” or “just” can only come from a sense of entitlement: He is Ferdinand Marcos Jr, son of Ferdinand Marcos Sr, and the anointed political heir to President Duterte. How can Leni Robredo and the Supreme Court deprive him of his deserved justice?

But who can tell Bongbong Marcos with any certainty or authority that in these times his wish no longer has the force of command? His wish, after all, tends to coincide with President Duterte’s own. – Rappler.com

The posthumous publication of Pulitzer Prize-winning Filipino-American journalist Alex Tizon’s "My Family's Slave" has provoked much discussion and some controversy. Many readers were moved by the plight of Lola Eudocia Tomas Pulido, who was 18 years old in 1943 when the author’s grandfather “gave” her to the author’s mother as a “gift” and who worked for the author’s family for 56 years.

Tizon provided harrowing details of how Lola Eudocia was subject to frequent scolding, forced to work long hours well beyond physical exhaustion and sleep amid piles of laundry, beaten in place of the author’s mother when the author’s mother misbehaved, promised but never actually given an “allowance.”

The essay also recounted Tizon’s own efforts to make amends: standing up to his mother in defense of Lola Eudocia; bringing Lola to live with him in her old age and helping her obtain US citizenship; giving Lola $200 a week to send to relatives, and later paying her airfare to visit relatives back in the Philippines; taking her on family vacations; and bringing her ashes back to her birthplace.

The internet being what it is, Tizon’s article has generated its share of commentaries both thoughtful and thoughtless, knee-jerk and nuanced. While some were quick to condemn Tizon for not doing enough, and sooner, to redress 50 years of suffering and exploitation (a point that should get one thinking in turn of how long the United States and its people have taken, and are still taking, to redress the trauma and long-term immeasurable human cost of slavery), a number of commentators have called for better historical and cultural understanding of slavery and the utusan/kasambahay/katulong (house help) system in the Philippines that made such suffering and exploitation possible in the first place. (READ: The Atlantic's 'My Family Slave' should not end with a feast)

The conversation has not been confined to one among Americans (including, of course, Filipino Americans, many of whom have learned about the situations of “maids” from their grand/parents or from their own visits to the Philippines), but has reached across the Pacific and the world to encompass middle- and upper-class Filipinos living in the Philippines and other parts of the world.

I say “middle- and upper-class Filipinos” because, so far, we have yet to see mainstream media solicit and present the reactions and opinions of actual katulong/kasambahay back home. In the case of overseas Filipino workers (numbering some 2.4 million in 2015, 51% of them female, and more than half of female workers being classified as “laborers and unskilled workers,” a category that includes domestic helpers [more about “unskilled” later]), it is also difficult to track the discussion among them because: 1) they are not likely to have the time to browse, let alone post comments in, English-language media; and 2) the internet discussion has been mainly in English (and there is no translation of the article into Filipino and other Philippine languages).

In short, it’s important to ask who is part of this discussion and who is not. (READ: Finding Eudocia Pulido in her hometown in Tarlac)

4Moreover, reading through the comments, one can’t help wondering at what is missing or, more important, what is silenced or erased when people – particularly those who identify as Filipino by nationality or by heritage – attempt to explain the context of slavery and the utusan system in the Philippines.

The most obvious context here is that household work in general is devalued and for that reason poorly renumerated. Economists do not factor unpaid “household production” or “own-production” – the work done by and within a family for its own use (cooking, cleaning, child care, etc) – in their statistics. There are now calls among some economists to come up with a way to measure household production, but the challenges of measuring the "quality" of such production remain.

In the Philippines, the labor (both muscle and emotion) needed for household production is sub-contracted by families (including some poor ones) to their katulong. Even when paid housework is included in national statistics (a country’s GDP, for instance), it is still viewed as “unimportant” and classified as “unskilled,” as though the quality of caring for home and children (the future generation, the human resources) doesn’t count for much.

Then there is the oft-repeated remark that since Eudocia Pulido was called “Lola” (Filipino term for grandmother), this meant that she was considered “part of the family.” This so-called explanation is actually a non-explanation, since it says nothing about the exploitation that happens within families. The cultural practice among Filipinos of calling their kasambahay“lola” in no way mitigates, let alone justifies, the exploitation of Lola Eudocia. Generations of feminists have detailed the abuse and exploitation that can be found in the most intimate, private sphere of the family, in the relationships between spouses, between parents and children, between heads of households and dependents. (READ: We are all Tizons)

In a posthumously published commentary called “Strange Hierarchies” (Philippine Studies: Historiographical and Ethnographic Viewpoints vol. 64, issue 1, 2016), the scholar Benedict Anderson argued that “maids are an interesting site to study the cross-effects of class inequality and intra-gender inequality.” He trenchantly observed that Southeast Asian middle-class children often “learn the ropes” of inequality from – and practice being “unequalizers” on – their own “yayas” (a Binisaya term that originally means “aunt” but is now synonymous with kasambahay who care for children).

In his comments, Vince Rafael rightly points out that Filipino "slavery" has its own specific history and system of social arrangements and relations. (Slavery in different forms, as well as other forms of indentured, conscripted, and unremunerated labor, exist in many regions of the world across centuries.) Rafael examines how the concepts of mutuality, reciprocity, utang ng loob (a concept more complex than simple “debt of gratitude”), awa (pity), and hiya (shame) underpin the historical system of slavery in the Philippines, and inform present-day relations between katulong and their so-called "amo."

The thing about these so-called “Filipino values” is that they work in a double-edged way: as much as they are often the only means by which the oppressed are able to assert their agency and human dignity against their oppressors (as Vince eloquently shows), the language of reciprocity has also functioned historically to mask and enable the power dynamics of inequality and subordination.

In fact, one of the thorny issues in the agrarian and tenancy disputes of the past century in the Philippines has been tenants and sharecroppers’ resentment of the way the landlords, who already benefit from a rigged system that keeps their tenants and workers perpetually indebted to them, still expect or demand personal services from them – services ranging from cutting firewood to repairing houses and, worse, offering their children as household servants – for free.

This is why the issue of wages has been an important component of the political struggles of workers around the world, as wages set some limits on how much mutual obligations people –particularly those in power vis-à-vis the powerless – can exact from each other.

Another running thread of the internet commentary on the Tizon article is the unconscious paternalism exhibited by some commentators who claim that one is doing a good thing – the right thing, even a favor – by giving the poor food and shelter in exchange for having them do house work for very little pay, or no pay. The middle classes, behaving just like the landlords (and, if you want to think farther afield, slave-owners and colonizers), like to invoke this brand of self-congratulatory paternalism when they say that they “take care” of their servants even as they relentlessly exploit them.

There are, it must be said, examples of good employers who do their best to ensure the welfare of their servants. But a comment such as this one – “i feel like many filipinos don’t have so much so i wouldn’t be surprised if some took people in as help…even when they weren’t paid, feels like a way for them to take care of each other” – does not help clarify things. Its vague talk of mutual help runs the danger of shading off into the patronizing rhetoric of hiring-maids-as-a-favor-to-the poor, because both beg the question of who is making more use of whom. After all, the cost of providing food and shelter is far less than having someone be at one’s beck and call 24 hours a day, 7 days a week.

Just for comparison, let’s look at contemporary Japan, where servants were commonplace until the end of World War II. Nowadays, the cost of hiring a professional nanny to take care of one’s child is about 2,000 yen an hour, plus transport and other expenses. If you multiply this by 8hours, that’s already 16,000 yen for one day’s work – and the nanny cannot be asked to do any other housework (for cleaning, you have to ask another company to provide that labor, and you’ll also be charged per hour). A stay-in nanny who works 8 hours a day, 7 days a week for a month will cost you 480,000 yen. Compare this to the median family income in Japan, which is about 7 million yen a year, or around 583,000 yen a month. Which is to say that Japanese middle-classes cannot afford live-in nannies or even hourly-pay nannies. Companies like Duskin are hiring Filipino workers and paying them the equivalent of $1,500 or P66,000 a month to do house-cleaning for Duskin clients. Their pay is roughly comparable to the minimum hourly wages in Japan. (Compare this to the P2,500 that the Kasambahay Law mandates for domestic helpers in Metro Manila as against P9,000 per month for non-agricultural labor in the National Capital Region.)

The "culture" of the utusan system is deeply connected to politics, economics, and institutions. Alex Tizon is right to use the term “slave” because, in the 20th century, if someone doesn’t get paid for doing work that she ought to get paid for (regardless of whether she consents to an unpaid arrangement or not), then she is a slave by our 20th-century definition. It is possible to speak of a wife, a widow, a sister, a grandmother, an aunt, or a daughter (and their male counterparts) as working like a slave, even when the work they do is considered part of their “familial” obligation.

The point is that we are no longer talking about 16th-century or even 19th-century slavery. The national liberation struggles, the abolitionist and Civil Rights movements, the workers’ movements, the feminist and other social and political movements from all over the world since then have helped create a world where what happened to Lola Eudocia and the oppression of so many other people all over the world can no longer be condoned, and what is needed is not just understanding and individual initiatives to redress the situation – laudable as Alex Tizon’s efforts to make amends to Lola Eudocia had been – but larger systemic and structural changes such as better enforcement of laws and regulations and better protection of the vulnerable and the poor.

What exactly are the politics and economics of the utusan question and why is the utusan system so pernicious and long-lasting, despite the progress in our political and social values? What are the specific problems and challenges that we middle-class Filipinos need to grapple with?

If it is a question of housework, most Filipino middle-class families can save up for a washing machine, and assign the chores of cooking and cleaning among themselves (husbands and children included, not exempted). But the factors that account for the persistence and longevity of the maid system are deeply political and economic, and involve a series of institutional problems. Here are just a few of them:

1. The erosion of the standards of the Philippine public school system: as recent as the postwar era, the public school was of sufficient high quality that people were proud to go to public school. The great historian Resil Mojares, for example, talks about his pride in being a public school student (as opposed to private school) in one of his essays in House of Memory. Washington Sycip and Kerima Polotan, two prominent Filipinos, went to public schools. The point about public schools is that they would have been within walking distance of the houses in a district. But the erosion through inadequate funding and bureaucratic corruption of the public school system has given rise to the middle-class preference to send their children to private schools, and because private schools are often located at a distance from their homes, they have to rely on maids to ferry their kids to and from school, or keep house for them as they ferry their own children back and forth.
2. Concerns (real and imagined) about law and order: while most children of working-class families have no choice but to walk or commute to school by themselves, most middle-class parents worry about the safety of their kids, fearing that the kids will be robbed, molested, or kidnapped. Some middle-class children are so coddled by their parents that they have never taken a bus or a jeepney in their lives. (We haven't begun talking about how cocooning children from the world outside their airconditioned car windows and middle-class homes engenders a narrow, blinkered view of that world.)
3. The repeated failures of industrial policy: had the country's elites been able to formulate and implement better industrial policies, the employment opportunities that would have opened up for women in factories, offices, and other better-paid workplaces would have encouraged more women to take jobs other than household service. Middle-class families often worry about the precariousness of their finances because they know the wages they themselves earn are not enough for them to pay their DHs well.
4. The lack of support system for childcare: there are kindergartens, but only for those who can afford them, and there are not many government-subsidized and employer-provided childcare facilities that will allow working mothers to entrust their small children to adequately compensated, professional caregivers.
5. The failure of imagination and mindset: while there are enlightened men who are willing to share the housework with their spouses, the onus is still on the women to do the bulk of the housework. Worse, because the middle- and upper-classes are already so dependent on their maids, they tend to breed in their own children a similar “señorito/a” complex that views housework as something only maids – other people – do. This kind of mentality explains the cluelessness of those who, having gone abroad or migrated to First World countries, complain about having to do the housework themselves and wax nostalgic about having katulong back home to make their beds for them (as Anderson mentioned in his essay). It also explains the annoying predilection of middle- and upper-class matrons to complain about the “laziness,” "slowness," “untrainability,” and "untrustworthiness" of their maids (an NHK documentary shown in Japan actually recorded one such conversation involving one of the Philippines’ elite families--had this documentary been shown in the Philippines, it would have ignited a firestorm of controversy). If the work done by the maids are not up to the standards of the matrons, why don’t the matrons do the housework themselves?

What “My Family’s Slave” has done is to bring up a subject that is often left unsaid and left unthought and unexamined, a subject that, far from being just a problem of Philippine poverty and corruption and lack of state capacity "out there," implicates all of us who have ever had yayas bring us up and keep house for us.  We have to render ourselves accountable for – and live with the guilt and consequences of – all the things we have allowed to happen and all the things we could and should have done but failed, for whatever reason, to do. – Rappler.com

An earlier version of this piece was published in the author's site, ikangablog.

Caroline Hau works in Kyoto. Her latest book, Elites and Ilustrados in Philippine Culture, is published by Ateneo de Manila University Press.