As mothers, lawyers, and advocates for children and women, we are enraged and disgusted with the recent "sexy dance gift" reportedly given by MMDA Chair Francis Tolentino to Laguna representative and Liberal Party mfember Benjamin Agarao, Jr in celebration of his birthday and 40th anniversary in service.

The mere thought of a public official giving such a "gift" to a fellow official is reprehensible. To do such a thing in a public gathering is plainly obscene, vulgar, and sickening beyond words. If they can do that shamelessly in the light of day, who knows what they are up to in the shadows?

We cannot express enough indignation over these government officials' twisted sense of judgment and lack of refinement.  Their actions and sorry excuses betray their exploitative, ungentlemanly, and crass way of thinking; one that is clearly unworthy of respect.  

To the Liberal Party officials whose idea of entertainment is a floor show by a public officer simulating sex in front of young and old, and to those who even defended it as normal by provincial sortie standards, we pity your mothers, sisters, wives, and daughters.

It is an unwitting revelation of your depravity, profanity and lack of respect for women. It perpetuates the archaic but sadly still present frame of mind that women are sex objects and it is perfectly acceptable to use them as sources of amusement for men.

Such commodification of women must not be tolerated. It is the same mentality that leads to commercial sexual exploitation of women. Hundreds of thousands of women are reportedly trafficked for prostitution in the Philippines. While there may be several factors that lead to that, the theory of supply and demand tells us that prostitution is fuelled by the customers who patronize it.  

And what are customers made of? Not snips and snails and puppy dog tails but the same nasty stuff that boils over into gender discrimination in its many forms.    

To the leadership of the Liberal Party, the nation is watching and waiting for how you will discipline your own ranks. If you do not purge yourself of those responsible for that lewd and offensive show, shame on you. How can you stomach standing alongside them while you tout “daang matuwid”? What a bane on your credibility. You might as well call yourselves the “Libertine Party.”

To Representative Agarao, we are hopeful that your conception of being “lalaking-lalaki (masculine)” is not representative of the mindset of the fathers, brothers, husbands and sons of our nation. Surely you will not chastise us for holding you up against a standard which may seem lofty but is actually a matter of basic decency.  Is it not a nod to your manhood that we refuse to equate your being a man to just the basest of instincts?

To the women and men of our country who believe in human dignity and equality, let us not sit idly by when decency and respect are trivialized. We owe it to our children and our children's children to speak up and call out what is wrong. By our silence we blur the line between good and evil. – Rappler.com

Lawyer Nina Patricia Sison-Arroyo is a professor of the Ateneo Law School and a private individual member of the board of the Council for the Welfare of Children.  She is also a member of the board of directors of International Justice Mission, a global organization that protects the poor from violence in the developing world. She is a graduate of Ateneo Law School, Class 1997.

Lawyer Carmela-Andal Castro is managing director of Consuelo Foundation, a philanthropic organization that promotes the wellbeing of children and prevents their abuse, neglect, and exploitation.  She sits as trustee to various non-profit organizations and is a volunteer lawyer for the Child Protection Unit of the Philippine General Hospital. She is a graduate of UP College of Law, Class 2000.

Last August, I was invited to Manila to speak at the Global Forum on Research and Innovation for Health (Forum 2015) and the New Leaders for Health Pre-Forum. This year’s Forum 2015, which is a global conference organized roughly every 3 years by the Council for Health Research and Development, revolved around the theme “Putting People at the Center of Research and Innovation for Health” and examined “Health in Mega-cities” as one of its subthemes.  

As an urban planner from the United States (US) who is passionate about putting people’s health at the center of all policies, plans, and designs, I was excited to be in Manila to observe the city’s development since my last visit to the Philippines nearly 10 years ago.

I was certain that Manila’s leaders and residents had worked hard to implement the lessons learned from poorly-designed cities in the developed world that had too much automobile traffic congestion, poor air quality, decaying road infrastructure, civil unrest, elite capture, rising inequity, lack of affordable housing, and high disease and death rates (particularly from the rising burden of chronic non-communicable diseases such as hypertension, diabetes, and cancer).  

I was surprised to experience the opposite.  

I think Manila is making the same mistakes the US did 100 years ago when it planned for cars and profits (for a few) instead of people. My friends wanted to show me the best of Manila’s planned communities and took me to Bonifacio Global City (BGC) in Taguig, which is branded as the new face of Metro Manila.

I looked around at the street accommodations for automobiles without designated bike paths and rapid bus lanes or room for urban transportation infrastructure such as the metro.  If this is the new face of Metro Manila, I worry about the future health and environmental quality of the city’s residents and ecology.  

The lesson learned from American cities is that planning for cars means more automobile traffic, rise of obesity and respiratory diseases, destruction of the environment and a dependence on the (mostly foreign) fossil fuel industry.

Don’t worry, I’m not a pessimist. I don’t believe that this is the inevitable pathway of Manila’s future development. There is a global movement to reimagine our cities by putting health and sustainability at the heart of policies that guide the built environment. By reinserting people and planetary health at the center of policies and planning, we can change the tide of development away from a tsunami of disease and environmental degradation towards a healthy and sustainable city for all.

‘Cities without doctors’

First, we have to systematically invite our urban planners, city officials, engineers, architects and real-estate developers to conferences that provide spaces to think about health as more than “healthcare” (i.e., hospitals, doctors, vaccines). We have to create “healthy urban planners” that understand how the built environment impacts the health of people and the planet. In fact, planners are true health specialists because health is ultimately shaped by the way they design homes, subdivisions, neighborhoods, cities, transportation networks, shopping districts, hospitals, schools – basically, cities at large!  

A truly healthy Manila would be one where no one gets sick or injured as a result of the built environment. In the 21st century, “cities without doctors” would mean urban environments where health is shaped by health-promoting infrastructure that encourages people to walk, bike safely, and breathe clean air.

For example in the US, we talk about the need to build cities that encourage active lifestyles to combat the ‘obesogenic’ environments that discourage physical activity and make it easy to drive. This has led to an obesity epidemic (and consequently a rise in Type II diabetes, cardiovascular disease and hypertension).

Decolonizing cities to heal historical wounds

Second, we have to decolonize the way we plan and manage our cities. The practice of urban planning has not changed since colonial powers invaded foreign lands and created structures and  regulations which separated the colonial settlers from local populations (e.g., zoning laws).  These zoning laws perpetuated inequality and injustice among local populations, which continue to plague cities throughout the world.  

Colonial planning systems also provided a way to commoditize natural resources (e.g., the science of forestry) and forever changed the governance of human-land relationships away from collective stewardship towards one of adversarial (and often violent) land-ownership. Decolonizing the way we plan and manage our cities must include the exploration of alternative conceptualizations of planning and governance.  

This complex process of ‘decolonization’ won’t be easy, but it must be done, not just to design healthy, sustainable, and equitable cities for the future, but also to address deep historical wounds of injustice and inequity that are most manifested in cities. For instance, the new urban planning must include everyone in the community, particularly the indigenous communities who have been marginalized and absent from planning and decision-making spaces.

How do we decolonize urban planning? This is where we need to create interdisciplinary spaces that allow participants do some deep soul searching.  In my participatory action research with communities around the world, we use three questions to guide these spaces. The first question is how did we get here?   

How did Manila get here? Who makes decisions on road placement, connectivity and flow in Metro Manila? Who benefits (and who is negatively impacted) from decentralization of planning decisions? How did a developer receive a permit to build a condominium complex that now towers Dr Jose Rizal’s monument in Luneta? We need to understand these historic pathways.

Urban visions guided by ‘decolonized’ values

The next question is, where do we want to be in 5, 10, 20, 50 years from now? To answer this question, there is a need for creative spaces for inclusive yet frank conversations that will cement the moral and ethical values that will guide our urban visions in the future. Part of this process is to look for examples of cities around the world that have adopted ‘decolonized’ values to develop and transform their urban environments.

For example, in the 1990s, two consecutive mayors in the city of Bogota, Colombia in South America decided that they would not use donor funding for transportation infrastructure to build for the rich car-owning minority.  Instead, they democratized transportation infrastructure to include multi-modal transportation uses which allowed dedicated public bus lanes, bike paths and walking paths.

Because this system was proven less expensive than the auto-centric designs of highways and freeways common in the US, the government was able to mobilize funds for providing Bogota’s residents with access to safe drinking water and sanitation.

The final yet equally important question to ask is, “How do we get from where we are at today to where we want to be?” This process includes both short- and long-term thinking skills.

We need to examine our systems of urban governance, which does not only pertain to the city ‘government’, but to the relationships that underpin individuals, communities, and institutions in cities.

In this phase, we need to consider which stakeholders need to be brought into these conversations, how resources can be mobilized, what policies must be put in place to institutionalize the urban vision that we want, and what regulatory frameworks are needed to incentivize good practice and run after erring actors.

‘Pinoy’ is global

Decolonizing our urban mindset is key to building the healthy cities we want in the 21st century. This is one way of reconceptualizing our problems which will lead us to reconceptualize our solutions. Once we have begun asking the difficult, often-ignored and sometimes painful questions, only then can we illuminate issues of equity and justice that in turn are reflected in the distribution of health and disease in urban societies.

Decolonizing and reconceptualizing will help us ensure that we are not repeating the mistakes of the past – for instance, in the way we subsidize our economic growth with rising burdens of disease and environmental degradation.  When we reconceptualize our situation, we will also realize that we can’t do this alone. We need to organize a movement that works for the common good – of the people and the planet.

It is high time for a new moral framework that will guide the development of our cities in the future, and I am strongly optimistic that Manila can lead the way especially in the developing world.

I hope that Manila’s vision of the new urban health will draw from the innate positive values of the Filipino which I will cherish forever – hospitality, compassion, dedication, persistence, social cohesion, collective identity, and loving attitude that I’ve seen in each and every one of my old and new friends in the Philippines.

By setting an example through innovative practice, Manila could then spread these values to other cities and cities-to-be in the world. This global cultural diffusion would be easy, because ‘Pinoy’ is global. – Rappler.com

Dr Mojgan Sami is an interdisciplinary practitioner, scholar and lecturer at the University of California, Irvine working at the intersection of urban planning, public health, and sustainability.  

First, let’s get one thing straight – I don’t have a dog in the fight (in the upcoming Philippine polls). 

I am merely an observer reacting to Senator Grace Poe and her televised pronouncements on why she flip-flopped on her citizenship choice.

That’s right, my issue here is why the 47-year-old Poe, the eager presidential candidate, doesn’t find anything wrong with what she did: embrace a foreign citizenship (US) and then pitch it in the garbage and immediately proceed to retrieve the citizenship (Philippines) that she first ditched because an opportunity to run (and win) for public office came up. (READ: Timeline: Grace Poe citizenship, residency)

I am in awe of her because she makes it look like it’s no big deal; that it’s so ordinary. That picking up and ditching a citizenship, twice over, could be done with relative ease. That instead of vilifying her actions, both occasions must be perceived as selfless acts – a sacrifice for the good of others. Thus, her actions are justified. 

Poe said in an interview that she acquired her American citizenship (2001) for the love of her family – her husband and three children (who are all currently carrying both US and Filipino passports). “It was all for love,” she declared.

 Later on, in (2005), she abandoned her American passport for a Filipino one. This time  she said it was for the love of her mom, who was grieving from the death of her adoptive father, Fernando Poe, Jr. “She needed me,” she articulated in the televised interview.

And so while still an American citizen she ran for the Senate and won. She says the public loves her and needs her and she’s giving in – now it’s time to set her sights on the highest position of them all: The Philippine presidency. And again, it’s all for love: For the love of her country. 

In her own words: “It is a bigger challenge and privilege to serve the nation. I will not turn my back on this call to service, because this is an opportunity to help so many among our people… It’s just simple… being a Filipino is more than what’s on paper and name. It’s living an honorable life, our values, and another thing, honest service.” 

While watching her tell this narrative to reporters, I couldn’t help but notice Poe’s tone as she tried to lace her message with copious amounts of a certain feeling, which I would attempt to describe as that of “reluctance.” Yes, she’s one loving wife and a dutiful mother who had to apply for an American citizenship, albeit reluctantly. 

She went on: “You know, when my husband and I started, that’s really love. I was with my family, my husband, we lived there (US). It’s true, I thought…as a mother, [it’s really to] support my family and my husband that we stayed there. It’s not like I lacked love for the country (Philippines). 

And did I really hear her say “values?”  

Not a matter of convenience

Okay I’ve had it.

So Senator Poe, here’s a little piece from me, a former Filipino, to you, a former American, and who just like you is also a loving wife and a dutiful mother: renouncing one’s citizenship is a major decision.

It’s not a matter of convenience. Not even a matter of love. When your birth mother gave you up when you were a baby and disappeared without a trace, leaving you undocumented, that was not your choice; that was not your fault. I’m on your side on that one and Pinoy “birthers” should  just shut up and move on. But guess what, when you left the Philippines for the US and embraced an American citizenship, that was your choice; that was your fault. And yours alone! 

You see Senator Poe, for some of us embracing an American citizenship is a long, painful process. It takes us a long time to decide because we also ask ourselves if we are already that prepared to accept the responsibilities required of an American. You see we just don’t take. We also want to bring something to the table. We have to contribute to help shape the country that took us in; and I don’t just mean by paying taxes and observing traffic rules. I am talking about honoring, respecting and defending the true core values of the United States. And taking them seriously.

So it took me 15 years to arrive at the decision to embrace US citizenship (and just for the record I entered the US legally through my father, who’s an American) and even my  love for my daughters and my husband was not enough for me to hurry up and surrender my Philippine passport for a blue one.

If anything it was my husband’s love for me that made it possible for me to take my time. As a rocket scientist working with NASA in its space science missions, it would have been preferable for him if his wife were not some registered alien from a country with a steady stream of terrorism flare-ups. 

But he understood why I wasn’t ready yet. And he respected my need for time in order to make a firm decision. I needed time to prepare myself. And he, too, was ready to do what was necessary as a result of this preparation – to fill out forms and take tests every time there was a need to blot my name out as a national security threat (due to the nature of his job). 

I am not saying that my decision to wait was worthy of accolades or that I am better than the others who grabbed at the first opportunity they got to become naturalized Americans.   

My point is that switching citizenships is a painful, very personal process and that very day, when I took the oath of allegiance to the US flag “without reservation,” was gut-wrenching, to say the very least. I was sobbing in the process. 

Your camp, however, made a mockery of this very serious, sacred act by releasing a statement saying that you took a pledge of allegiance to the US “only as a necessary condition” for your naturalization.

Huh? That statement was really offensive. I felt like the whole exercise was made so simplistic, it’s like you put on a pair of sneakers, pound the streets of Boston in it for a bit and then took them off, ditching them straight into the trash bin because it has already outlived its usefulness. And because a new pair of sneakers with a more playful design has caught your interest!

The oath of allegiance to the US states: "I hereby declare, on oath, that I absolutely and entirely renounce and abjure all allegiance and fidelity to any foreign prince, potentate, state, or sovereignty, of whom or which I have heretofore been a subject or citizen; that I will support and defend the Constitution and laws of the United States of America against all enemies, foreign and domestic; that I will bear true faith and allegiance to the same; that I will bear arms on behalf of the United States when required by the law; that I will perform noncombatant service in the Armed Forces of the United States when required by the law; that I will perform work of national importance under civilian direction when required by the law; and that I take this obligation freely, without any mental reservation or purpose of evasion; so help me God.”

Now I wonder how you really felt when you spoke those words at your US citizenship rites. Or did you? – Rappler.com

Ruby Clemmons is a former Manila-based journalist. She resides in Los Angeles with her husband and their two girls, ages 11 & 8. 

For several weeks in August, it was extremely tiresome to go for meetings in Quezon City or Pasig from my residence in Makati. Like many folks in Metro Manila, I have had to cope with horrible traffic especially in EDSA.  

I noticed that travelling even short distances in the Metro has become a nightmare, sometimes taking hours, instead of quarter to half an hour, especially during rush hour.

Three decades ago, I used to live also in Makati. I fondly remember that as a high school student, it would take me only fifteen minutes to twenty minutes to reach La Salle Green Hills. Now, doing such a trip from Makati to Ortigas in twice that time is already a very big blessing. There are still some days though, such as last August 21 (as it was a holiday then), when travelling throughout Metro Manila can be a breeze, but normally, one has to endure what Dan Brown calls “the gates of hell” in (Metro) Manila.

A study by the Japan International Cooperation Agency (JICA) suggested that in 2012, traffic congestion was costing the country 2.4 billion pesos daily,  and this could more than double to 6 billion pesos daily by 2030 unless we come up with a “dream plan” for Metro Manila and its surrounding areas.

Traffic an effect of prosperity?

What are the reasons for traffic?

The administration’s anointed for 2016, a former Secretary of the Department of Transportation and Communications (DOTC), asserts that traffic is a mere effect of the country’s new found economic growth prosperity. Is the anointed merely wiggling his way out of this mess that he may have had a hand in or is this really something unmanageable? If there is no way out of the traffic, then what is a DOTC for? 

Stating that traffic is a “high class problem”, i.e., a reflection of economic activity and prosperity, suggests that this is beyond the control of government. The simple logic about the claim is more money means more power to buy cars, and more cars means more traffic.  

But this is far too simplistic as there are some places such as Singapore and Hongkong that are far more prosperous than Metro Manila, but while they do experience traffic in those areas, it isn’t as bad as what we have to endure daily in the Metro.

Should we make the “anointed” accountable for this lack of foresight and inaction during his term as DOTC Secretary (that has continued in the current leadership at DOTC), and make him pay by finding someone else for 2016 who has the heart to solve the problem and who has had “no experience” about it (as against those with experience but have done nothing)?

The current DOTC Secretary Joseph Emilio Abaya, added more harm to this analysis of traffic suggesting that traffic is not fatal anyways, although he later apologized for these nonchalant and insensitive remarks. Recently, he even changed his tune. Medical doctors warn that traffic can actually be bad for our health, and even fatal given the pollution and the stress that we can get from it.

Coping with technology, social media

A few years ago, I used to get peeved when people would apologize when they would come late for a meeting because of traffic. I used to think that one merely has to allow for additional time for traffic to arrive on time for meetings. However, these days estimating the time to account for traffic can be quite a feat in itself.

I thank technologies such as the Waze app for guiding me to finding alternative routes, but if everyone were using Waze, then everyone else would be using these same routes. If Waze can’t speed up my travel on the road, I, at least, use technology to keep me busy, lurking through posts on Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, etc., or check my emails and messages on Viber.   

Aside from helping us cope with traffic, social media has also managed to provide us quick information about conditions on the ground. Marciano Gatmaitan, a cousin, took a photo of buses clogging the streets, and posted a Facebook shoutout with the photo : “Need to say more why we have traffic?”

Government has now started to pay more serious attention to this problem by having Cabinet Secretary Rene Almendras become traffic czar, rerouting southbound buses from EDSA to C5, and making use of the Highway Patrol Group (HPG) for enforcing traffic in EDSA starting last September 7.

The first day of the rerouting and use of the HPG suggested there was an easing in half of the six choke points of Metro Manila.  Immediately, I thought this would likely not last long as people are just recognizing there are new “rules” in the traffic game. When the rules are learned, it may go back to “normal.” Several people in social media have reported that the other three choke points have not eased up, and new choke points are appearing.  The second night September 8, commuters were not any better for traffic.  After heavy rains, so many complained that they have been stranded.

My suspicion that traffic would not get any better even with the HPG around is borne from the recognition that while there certainly is evidence of poor road behavior in EDSA, especially among buses, whose drivers behave like this way because they are on commissions rather than wages, this is only part of the entire story. 

Confluence of factors

There is really a confluence of factors that lead to traffic, beyond economic prosperity and people’s behavior on the streets. Part of that confluence is the poor public transport system and the volume of vehicles.

The sorry state of public transport gives little alternatives for the middle and upper income classes than to buy a car and take one’s vehicle along EDSA and other streets in the Metro. Will one risk taking a long queue for the MRT (which has become even longer because of a systems change, which did not undergo effective transition)? 

The other rail system, the LRT, is similarly problematic. Getting a bus will also drive you crazy with bus drivers waiting till eternity for their buses to get passengers, ironically sometimes clogging intersections and even highways, further reducing road space.  Finding a taxi can be challenging, although now apps like GrabTaxi help in finding taxis especially for short distances.   

Another major issue about traffic congestion is sheer vehicular volume, i.e. the number of vehicles in Metro Manila. Consider the rising number of sales of vehicles (see Figure 1), including passenger cars.  Vehicle sales are increasing considerably also because it is now very affordable to purchase (especially with the low down payments). 

Of late, there are about 25 thousand new cars every month, and the growth rate for private vehicles is now higher than that for commercial vehicles. Why would someone not want to buy a car, especially if public transport is horrible, aside from the added social prestige of having a vehicle? 

Unfortunately, everyone thinks this way, and thus the volume of vehicles, coupled with the lack of public transport, plus poor road courtesy all contribute to the worsening of traffic in Metro Manila, especially EDSA. So, it is not just one issue that results in traffic conditions, and consequently, it is not a single action that will improve traffic conditions.

Bus transport sector

Sonny N. Domingo, Roehlano Briones and Debbie Gundaya, colleagues at the Philippine Institute of Development Studies (PIDS), released a discussion paper this year that described and studied the bus transport sector. 

The study noted that in Metro Manila, a significant number of commuters use buses over other available modes of transport such as private vehicles, MRT, LRT, taxis, and utility vehicles. The study also pointed out that there are about over 12,500 buses operating within Metro Manila, or from the province to Metro Manila, dispersed over 1,122 bus operators.

Contrast this to the mid 1970s, when there were only 4 private consortia and one government entity (the then Metro Manila Transit Corporation)  in charge of bus operations in Metro Manila, which grew to 14 groups by late 1970s, and further expanded in 1989 with the liberalization of the bus transport sector.  With the rising congestion in Metro Manila, the government imposed a moratorium on the issuance of franchises for provincial buses in 2000, and a nationwide moratorium on all new buses and new franchises in 2003. But bus operators interviewed for the study claim that new franchises can actually be obtained, especially if they are willing to pay a fixer’s fee of P150,000 per unit.

The PIDS study indicates that “travel time [by bus] within (EDSA’s) super corridor – a 12-kilometer stretch – ranges from 18 to 138 minutes, depending on the level of traffic congestion at certain times of the day.” The average bus delay from the five kilometer stretch of Ayala to Guadalupe was estimated at 50 minutes, while the 4.3-kilometer-Guadalupe to Aurora Blvd. route took 43 minutes. The study estimated that the foregone wages, i.e., the opportunity cost of wasted time among passengers on the road, was P4.6 billion a year. The foregone wages of bus passengers daily along the Ayala-Guadalupe route alone was estimated at P11.3 million, while those using the Guadalupe-Aurora corridor was P8.97 million.

The study suggested several steps to reform the bus transport sector, including limiting the number of operating buses in franchised routes, and proper enforcement of these policies, especially on franchises agreements; giving incentives to operators for the deployment of the optimal number of buses. It would certainly be important to find ways of paying bus drivers regular wages rather than commissions to improve their road behavior.

Long-term solutions

Should government just build more roads to accommodate the growing number of vehicles? Traffic engineers and urban planners have learned in the last few decades that we cannot really build our way out of congestion. The number of roads themselves is partly causing the traffic. 

Ironically, more roads (with the status quo in place) will just mean more cars. Professor Emeritus Josefina Alvarez of New Mexico State University, a mathematician argues quite interestingly that fewer roads lead to less traffic. 

Essentially using various paradoxes, this mathematician shows that when there is a new road, drivers try to minimize their travel time and use the new road, and unfortunately, everyone has the same idea, and this affects the road network, yielding to congestion in the new road. Fewer roads, according to Professor Alvarez, would lead to a cooperative strategy of sorts, and ironically less travel time.  Many development organizations, including the Asian Development Bank, have likewise also pointed out that solving traffic in urban areas is not merely about having more roads.  

It is clear there are a lot of cars on EDSA, and one might be tempted to think that merely removing all the private cars, or minimizing them further with schemes such as those adopted in Jakarta that require vehicles to have at least four passengers would be enough to discourage people from using their cars.  Certainly, there must be mechanisms in place to discourage the purchase and use of cars, but what alternative is there in place? We certainly cannot fly like Superman, or use a teleporter as in StarTrek, at least not yet. 

A “system view” should really be taken. Urban planner Benjamin de la Pena points out that government officials should be prioritizing solutions that move more people instead of vehicles, and he encourages us to demand that government solve the problem. 

He explains that “transportation… (is) not a problem of how a car gets from point A to point B. It's a problem of how a person goes from point A to point B. We've been counting the movement of cars instead of focusing on the movement of people.” Currently, government has done very little to improve mass transit (both the bus system and rails) that could discourage the use of cars.  

The paradigm continues to be purely about vehicle movement. Transportation is ultimately an issue about people, about the need for people to move, and the incentives and disincentives in choosing one transportation mode over the other. Thus, the long term solutions involve public transport, affordable housing, and if I may add, having fewer people in the Metro. In other countries, even schools are purposely established outside of the capital. Here, the locations of schools further contribute to an already bad traffic condition. Just go long along Ortigas, Taft Ave., and Katipunan, during schooldays, and you see what I mean.

Myanmar's example

One of the reasons why I find it refreshing to visit Naypyidaw, Myanmar is that finding 20 vehicles in an eight lane-road in front of major hotels is already considered traffic. 

Naypyidaw, the administrative capital of Myanmar, is located about 320 kilometers north of Yangon, the previous capital. Established a decade ago in 2005, Naypyidaw was given a formal name in 2006.  Government employees and officials are provided residences in the city, although many of them maintain residences in Yangon (as their children continue their schooling in the old capital).

Myanmar is not the only country among our neighbors that has created a new capital. Malaysia also has Putrajaya. Thailand, Indonesia and the Philippines have likewise considered the idea of establishing a new administrative capital, but these plans have remained as plans.   

In the Philippines, a plan to transfer the government center outside of Metro Manila was actually already developed during the Marcos administration, and resurrected in the Ramos administration, but never put into action. 

Decades ago, when Quezon City was established, it was also meant to become the administrative capital of the country. If the plan for a new government center takes more traction, the next question is where. Governor Joey Salceda of Albay, one of a few local chief executives who understands data very well, has recently advocated the transfer of the entire government machinery, including the presidential mansion, the offices of both houses of Congress, and other offices of the national government to Lucena. 

I hope government officials really put concrete long term plans into action. Some officials claim that the “dream plan” for Metro Manila is starting, however, we are far from feeling this.

In addition, the dream plan does not look at volume of cars, which government should address, as has been done in Singapore. Understandably, this dream plan would not look into this as Japanese auto manufacturers would like the growth of car sales to continue. The past sins of omission have already caught up, and are clearly doing us harm. 

More can and should be done to improve traffic conditions. If government officials continue to sit on the job, then next year, we will and should consider traffic as an election issue. We should demand better government, as we deserve better. – Rappler.com

Dr. Jose Ramon "Toots" Albert is a professional statistician. He is a Senior Research Fellow of the government’s think tank Philippine Institute for Development Studies, and the president of the country’s professional society of data producers, users and analysts, the Philippine Statistical Association, Inc. for 2014-2015. He finished a PhD in Statistics from the State University of New York at Stony Brook.

They don't tell you when you leave the homeland what you'll actually miss. You're told what you'll supposedly gain – a better life, more freedom, and the ability to buy nice things. Wide open spaces, the reliability of service, the openness of city streets.  

Cleaner bathrooms, the abundance of toilet paper, and reliable flushing. Unlimited ketchup and mustard on your burgers, plus all the fixings. Warehouse club-sized groceries and glutton-portioned meals. A good job, a nice house, and a car in the quiet suburbs.

Nobody tells you that you'll miss the noises of home – the blaring of jeepney horns, the takatak of the cigarette vendors selling Winstons by the stick. They don't tell you that you'll look for the barker yelling out everyday destinations like an international roll call: Bambang, Arranque, Ongpin, Blumentritt. That the language you speak will sound so beautiful once you've stopped speaking it. That you'll seek it out in a crowded train and in your happiness you'll want to give your fellow Filipino your seat.

You're not told that "cold" isn't just Baguio cold, but an impossible, inescapable freeze. That there is no manual on how to dress for winter except for seasons of trial and error, learning fabrics like wool, down, cashmere and fleece. That the first time your toes go numb inside your shoes will be the last time you'll take the correct footwear for granted. You're not taught to check the weather in the morning before leaving for the day, but you learn it the first time the temperature drops and you didn't bring a jacket. 

You're told about the snow, but not what a magical act of physics it really is. You're told it is beautiful, but not that you have to shovel a truckload of it to get out of your house. Nobody warns you about slipping on ice or getting slush in your shoes. Or how in the deadest and darkest moment of winter, beneath your hats and scarves and layers, you'll miss the hot breeze of the tropics. 

No warning

You're not warned that there is no tsokolate (chocolate), taho, or caramelized   plantains bobbing in oil on the street. That you'll have to eat green apples instead of green mangoes and never find a breakfast sausage that is both garlicky and sweet. You're caught by surprise when a gourmet restaurant makes a big deal of their pork belly dish – something unimpressive when you've been eating crispy pata (pork hock) since you were a little kid.

Nobody warns you that you'll make enemies frying your tuyo (dried fish) or for heating your lunch of rice and fish. That your everyday meal is considered exotic, and sometimes even gross, next to the blandness of a turkey sandwich.

You won't be briefed that your decent English will not be understood, and that you'll stare at a native speaker trying to decipher the combination of words you know but somehow can't make out from the speed of their speech. You'll stop talking entirely at one point, afraid of blurting out something that comes so naturally like, "Anak ng tokwa!" because it will make no sense no matter how you translate it.

You're told about the wonders of earning a decent wage in a stronger currency. You're not told that your education, experiences, and skills will be diluted, downplayed, and often ignored in a foreign land that doesn't recognize them. The watering down or disregard of your culture will conveniently be called assimilation. "Welcome to America/UK/Italy/Dubai/Singapore/UAE!" you'll be told when you learn something about your new country.

You'll be both happy and sad to fit in, because you'd have lost that edge you came with that made you stand out, so this means you've lost what you carried with you that would make you fit right back in when you finally return to the Philippines. 

Homesickness

Nobody warns you about how long it takes in between visits – that you'll be torn between spending money on flights, paying rent, or buying your family more gifts. Where you drool from friends' photos of lanzones, mangosteen, rambutan, and atis. That you would trade your tray of blackberries and raspberries for a ripe mango picked from your neighbor's backyard. 

You'll want to wake up to the stench of fried danggit, longganisa, the acid of spiced vinegar for dipping, and garlic rice that anywhere else would be too early to eat in the morning. You'll stare at your box of cereal and flavorless milk and at that moment you'll wonder if being away is all worth it.

In all your desire to leave the Philippines – the dissatisfaction with the way things are done, the struggle to even make it out – nobody tells you that in your weakest and most defeated moments in another land, you'll long to complain in Tagalog about the EDSA traffic. You'll promise not to mind the inefficient government employees if it means their service comes with a smile and an offer to eat. You'll long to leave your house and see familiar faces with similar body types and skin tones, all of whom would understand when you scream, "Ang init (It's hot)!"

The silence of efficiency

In the silence of efficiency, of cleaner air, orderly conduct, and litter-free streets, you'll be saddened by the impossibility of visiting a childhood friend to talk about a shared history. You'll crave the recognition you got back home, when something as simple as a nod would let you know that you belonged. You'll miss being visited by a tito (uncle) or a tita (aunt), or bumping into a cousin in the mall, or share sisig with friends in your favorite drinking place.

Even after you've made a life for yourself in a foreign country, it doesn't matter how many decades you've lived there. You'll always be asked where you're from. Your answer will always elicit a blank stare from those who have no clue about your roots, your heritage, or your culture.  You may try your best to assimilate, to blend in, or even deny your country, but the Filipino inside you will always come out of hiding. 

With the number of overseas Filipinos growing every year, for the most part our countrymen don't leave our country for anything other than financial need. Millions of us find small successes from our meager skills and are able to provide for our families, to take them where we are, or build a life for them that we never could afford if we stayed.

But nobody talks about the silences, the empty rooms, all the new experiences that we have to face and adapt to on our own. We are told about the wonderful things that happen when we make it out of our own country, but never once told how much it will hurt to lose our home. How we seek our culture, our food, and our people wherever we land, even just for a moment so the homeland doesn't seem so out of reach, so that we forget for a minute that everything we love is so far away. –Rappler.com

“Why are you smiling? What are you listening to?” were my family’s words when they looked at me with curious and concerned eyes, wondering why I was laughing on my own or smiling at nothing. 

Recently, I was paralyzed with depression, as I watched myself “fail” in life. (READ: I have depression and it feels good to admit it)

The existential crisis which has loomed over me since I was a sophomore had caught up with me in my final year in college. ­­­I found myself entrapped in the same state of depression, lack of motivation and simple lifelessness I struggled with after having kept myself busy and accomplished for the last two years. 

Those feelings had made me introspective and self-absorbed. I admitted defeat, feeling the overwhelming confusion and chaos. I wanted to isolate myself from the rest of the world, in fear of nobody understanding what I’m going through. They might dismiss “it” as drama.  

I made the conscious effort to seek help. I tried taking action, but my efforts were futile. People tried to talk to me and give advice but, at the end of the day, I was left battling with my demons. 

Finding myself again

We didn't have the resources to consult a therapist, so I fared on my own. I found myself in a state of inaction which led to my inability to continue my responsibilities as a student, leader, and daughter. Waking up was a struggle; smiling, a strain.  

I thought a relationship would lift me up, but it only pulled me down. Many times I found myself hiding in the chapel, just to burst out in tears, asking God, "How?" (READ: Dealing with depression)

I remember being taught religious practices as a child, as I was raised with Catholic ideals and sent to a private Catholic school. These ideals were questioned when I entered college; although it was hard to reconcile, I eventually patched it up.  

I was becoming less of a Catholic by practice, as I sought other religions.

When I failed to graduate last semester, I moved through the days that followed by doing menial tasks. My family and friends helped and I am grateful. Not being able to graduate was enough of a burden for a family of 8, but my family has been such a strong support system.

One day, I tuned in to a Christian podcast. It was a prayer. No, it wasn’t like the ones I recited. It was simpler, quieter. I continued listening to that podcast and I felt my faith - the faith I have long forgotten to nurture since I got lost. 

Psychologically, the response to my situation could perhaps be explained by the power of positivity – which somehow explains the necessity for the invention of religion. 

That day, however, when I finally felt something good within me again, I chose to let all my thinking and rationalizing go. It was though letting go and having genuine faith – that there is a higher purpose – was the only thing that I have to do to free myself and gently put myself back together.

And the magic turns out to be effective: I found myself back on my feet. I’m back to hoping, dreaming, and believing that I can bounce back in life. 

Here I am, writing again.

It wasn’t being a Catholic that helped me cope with my situation, it was the forging of my faith, no matter which religion I’m in.

I have now learned to trust. — Rappler.com

Allison Danao is currently finishing her thesis in Communication Arts at the University of the Philippines Los Banos.  

Like reading the ancient Greek tragedy of Homer, we are at the pages of the Iliad where we can see what hell ahead shall befall Troy. We are now in that exact moment, seeing in the horizon the fires that will burn for 10 years. However, we are not looking in the horizon of the ill-fated Trojans, but rather, we are looking at the future of humanity, nature, and the planet. 

There are only 5 negotiating days left before the 21^st Conference of the Parties (COP21) to the United Nations Framework Convention on Climate Change (UNFCCC). From October 19 to 23, the UNFCCC is supposed to hammer out the modalities of the Paris deal. And all the indications, for me, are pointing out that any deal coming out of Paris will be a bad one.

In the 85 negotiating days since COP17 in 2011 (in Durban, South Africa), when governments agreed to draft a new climate agreement until 2030, there has been little forward movement. In spite of all the carbon-generating flights associated with flying 193 sets of negotiators around the world multiple times, what we have seen in the last 4 years is the death or displacement of thousands of people impacted by destructively intense typhoons, hurricanes, floods, and droughts. 

In the Philippines alone, the strongest typhoon to ever make landfall, Typhoon Yolanda (Haiyan), killed 6,000 and left thousands more homeless and without livelihoods. 

Paris deal

A document known as the “Co-Chairs Tool” – from the co-chairs of the Ad Hoc Working Group on the Durban Platform for Enhanced Action (ADP), and published at the last intersessional in Bonn in September – lays out a possible scenario for a Paris deal.

It outlines issues for a potential Paris agreement, issues that will be listed in a decision, and other issues that have not yet agreed to be either in the agreement or the decision. 

The Chair’s Tool also makes the specific elements of a Paris deal fairly clear: emission cuts will be voluntary, flexibility mechanisms will be continued, more market mechanisms will be proposed, and accounting loopholes and techno-fixes will abound.

A trick term “net zero emissions” will also allow countries to offset emissions through dubious biofuels and biomass projects likely to drive landgrabbing and hunger without permanently reducing emissions.

This week, the co-chairs of the ADP, Ahmed Djoghlaf of Algeria and Daniel Reifsnyder of the United States, also produced a “non-paper note by the Co-Chairs” on October 5, in time for the coming inter-sessional in Bonn. This non-paper details a draft agreement and a draft decision for Paris. The Chairs have also issued a draft decision on the pre-2020 ambition known as “Workstream.”

All these documents are still under negotiation however. There is certainly an element of Greek tragedy in the fact that one of the co-chairs is from the US, one of the biggest emitters of greenhouse gases who never even ratified the last climate protocol.

Why it will fail

We also know that Paris is going to be a deal that burns the planet because, at the time of writing, 119 submissions of Intended Nationally Determined Contributions (INDCs) – voluntary reduction pledges – had been made, including by all major emitters. 

It has been calculated that these INDCs would still mean a planetary warming of 3^oC above pre-industrial levels, overshooting an international commitment by one degree. 

A recent study by Stern and others also shows that the reduction pledges from the US, European Union, and China – who together account for 45% of global emissions – will miss by almost double the 2030 target of 35 gigatons of CO2e emissions.

This 2^oC target was internationally agreed on in 2007, after the UN Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change (IPCC) released its 4th assessment report (7), explaining that emissions had to be kept to below 2^oC by 2020. But it is now 2015, and the IPCC’s 5th report has reiterated the peril we face, and the fact that even if we stopped all emissions now, we will still feel the impacts for centuries, including potential abrupt and possibly irreversible changes. 

The longer the delay in reducing emissions, the higher the danger that the climate’s feedback mechanism will go beyond the 2^oC “safe” limit. 

This is the heart of the problem with the Paris deal. Countries’ voluntary emission targets, which they might not even implement, are not up for negotiation at all. They could also use market mechanisms to buy or cheat their way out of reductions at home. Yet emissions need to be cut deeply, at source, without loopholes or market mechanisms now, not in 10 years’ time. 

We can’t wait to try again in 2030 – it will be too late. 

Why is this happening? Well, the whole process being captured by corporations, especially by the fossil fuel and extractives industry – the main source of emissions. For example, in the entire 88 pages of the Co-Chair’s Tool, "fossil fuel" is only mentioned once and then only to encourage governments to reduce or eliminate incentives for fossil fuel subsidies.

A statement from civil society organizations in the Climate Space reiterates the demand from social movements – that 80% of fossil fuel reserves must be left underground in order to stay below the 2^oC limit. But how can this demand possibly be met if the sponsors of COP21 are from fossil fuel and large carbon-emitting corporations, such as EDF, Engie, Air France, Renault-Nissan and BNP Paribas?–Rappler.com

Mary Louise Malig, is a researcher and policy analyst and has written on the issues of trade particularly the World Trade Organization (WTO), and on issues of climate change, food and agriculture. Malig is Campaigns Coordinator of the Global Forest Coalition.

September ambushes me every year.

Life rushes by, and then I realize it’s another September, and another difficult anniversary. I look down at the band on my wrist, the scuffed aluminum band that soldiers wear to commemorate the dead. You’ve probably seen these killed-in-action (KIA) bracelets before, but unless you know what it is, you can mistake it for simply a piece of jewelry.

The one on my wrist reads:

SFC Christopher Shaw
SSG Jack Martin
Jolo, PI 29 September 2009

The names are bracketed by a US flag on the left and the Special Forces insignia on the right: “De oppresso liber.” To free the oppressed. I’ve worn it every day since the small brown box of them arrived at our task force headquarters in early October 2009.

On September 29, it feels heavier than it does on every other day of the year. Every other day of the year, I am consumed by the chaos of my life: a young daughter, a new house, a small company. But on September 29, the luxury — the arrogance — of that chaos hits me: the things that chafe at me are so minor in the face of the fact that always hits home on September 29. Jack and Chris will never experience this life; they’ll never experience a life after the uniform.

When the lights go out

A lot of people ask me what war is like.

In truth, I saw more violence in Afghanistan working with the United States Agency for International Development (USAID) than during my time in the US Army. But those experiences share something in common. And what they share explains why Jack and Chris didn’t survive September 29, 2009.

War is entropy. One moment everything is fine; the next it isn’t. In Tim O’Brien’s iconic short story collection, The Things They Carried, there’s a scene depicting a soldier getting killed while taking a piss. “Zapped while zipping,” O’Brien called it. A sniper here and an IED there. Bang, and the lights go out.

I remember when I joined the Army. I was young and stupid and believed if I got enough training and surrounded myself with the best soldiers, I’d have the best chance of surviving. Now I know: that’s bullshit. You wake up some days, and everyone’s alive. Then you go to sleep, and some are dead. That’s it. That’s all there is.

Jack and Chris didn’t have to die

What bothers me most isn’t that Jack and Chris died. Everyone who signed on the line after 9/11 knew what could happen. No, what tears my insides up is that they didn’t have to die, that our task force got it wrong, and no matter what justification commanding officers give or what the official story says, this was a preventable mistake — and two men didn’t come home because of it.

It’s tough to speak in this way about a specific operation; it’s even harder to speak in this way when Special Operations forces are involved. We have reason to be proud of our special operators, but we have come to believe too deeply in the myth of their invincibility and infallibility. Part of that is psychological armor for ourselves: to believe such well-trained, well-equipped forces could be killed by barely trained guerilla fighters challenges the core of what we believe about American military might. But for those of us who have done the fighting and seen the killing, there’s a deep dishonesty in assuming that “Special Operations” are somehow impervious to the ordinary chaos of warfare.

To understand my disillusionment — and the disillusionment of others who served — you have to understand my context. After 9/11, the United States vowed to track down Al Qaeda no matter where it was hiding. Southeast Asia has two main Al Qaeda affiliates: Jemaah Islamiyah, headquartered in Indonesia; and the Abu Sayyaf Group (ASG) in the Philippines. The U.S. set up a small task force to work with the Philippine military to combat these terrorist groups.

In 2009, I took a 3-man psychological operations team to the southern Philippines to augment 1st Special Forces Group. Our role was to conduct influence operations by working at the community level: identify at-risk villages and figure out what issues were most important to them. Then we’d work with those communities to encourage the behaviors we wanted and, ideally, do our best to eliminate the gravitational pull of radicalization. We ran radio shows and hosted community gatherings, among other efforts.

My team conducted missions into these communities as much as any team on Sulu Island. We often walked around with only our 9mm pistols and no body armor, in an effort to avoid looking like commandos who were there to cause trouble. We talked with farmers, shopkeepers, students and imams, trying to figure out exactly how we could move these communities in the right direction.

The only problem: none of us, from my commander on down, had any idea what the right direction was. And to make matters worse, we were all operating in silos, accomplishing our individual missions without any regard for the broader work we had to do. The Special Forces guys, for instance, mostly trained the Armed Forces of the Philippines (AFP) Marines in infantry tactics. My team worked with local communities. The Civil Affairs team did infrastructure projects around the island. But there was nothing to bind the work together, zero vision and no overarching goal that we were working to accomplish. That lack of a common cause would have deadly consequences.

The kidnapping

A month or so before I arrived in Sulu, three International Committee of the Red Cross workers were kidnapped on the island. The Red Cross wanted to believe that it was seen as a neutral party in the southern Philippines. ASG — militant Islamic terrorists responsible for some of the Philippines’ worst violence — begged to differ. Once the Red Cross group left the gates of their camp, Camp Bautista, ASG kidnapped them and held them for ransom.

Of the three workers, one was Swiss, one Italian, one Filipina. ASG had played this game before, and they knew that European hostages fetch a much higher price than Filipinos. So they released the Filipino and held the European hostages for months in the jungle. The Philippine Marines conducted multiple operations to retrieve the two hostages, usually incurring a few casualties each time. They failed each time to bring the hostages back. And after every mission and firefight, the ASG would fade into the jungle mists like ghosts.

Then, one day, word came to us that the first hostage had broken out from behind enemy lines. Shortly thereafter, the second one got away, as well. There were no details about these escapes, but it was clear to anyone paying the least bit attention that someone had paid ransoms on their behalf. The ASG are too well-armed and too well-schooled in kidnap-and-ransom to let two weary European relief workers escape so easily.

If I can point to one moment in my deployment when things took a turn for the worse, this would be it. The next month was a nightmare. More attacks, more threats of attacks, more IEDs reported, more IEDs found. How did this happen? All signs pointed to one thing: the ransom payments enabled ASG to buy supplies they needed to continue their violence. Those payments may have rescued two European lives, but they had put countless others — Filipino and American — at risk.

The ransom had another unintended consequence. The Filipino forces were now operating with a chip on their shoulder. The AFP Marines had not been able to liberate the hostages during the months they were held, a fact which badly bruised their egos. Armies differ from country to country, but soldiers share a great deal in common. One of the things they share is a deep commitment to the idea of honor. The failed raids to rescue the hostages were a hit to the AFP Marines’ honor. If everyone believed ransom had freed the Europeans, that meant the AFP was weak and feckless. They couldn’t even police their own backyard.

The AFP couldn’t live with that reputation. When they had an opportunity to restore their reputation, they took it. That day was September 20, 2009; it’s known around the world as as Eid al-Fitr, the feast that brings the holy month of Ramadan to an end.

A laughable operation

We were sitting in an all-plywood meeting room when someone mentioned that the AFP Marines were going to carry out an operation on the feast of Eid to capture the masterminds behind the Red Cross kidnapping. When I heard the plan, I broke out laughing. It was a ridiculous proposition. Sure, the AFP Marines ought to conduct a large-scale operation led by a majority Christian military against a Muslim minority, on one of the holiest days in the Muslim calendar. I shouldn’t have been the only one laughing, because everyone in that room should have recognized that this was a self-evidently stupid idea. But there I was, laughing my ass off, all by myself.

Resuming composure, I told the commander exactly what any conscientious person in my job ought to tell him, “Well, we obviously have to stop that operation. Even if they get the bad guys, there’s no way the community will understand the timing and context of a large military engagement on Eid.”

“The Phil commander says he’s got a guy inside the bad guys’ camp, and the only day the bad guys will be there is on Eid.”

“So? Let the bad guys live another day. The AFP botches these operations all the time, and there’s no way this doesn’t feed into every bit of propaganda the bad guys are telling the Muslim community. Even if the AFP gets the bad guys, they still lose.”

“We’ll support the Phils in whatever way they ask.” (The conversation turns classified at this point, but suffice it to say, it didn’t get better.)

I left that meeting with a mission: get this operation canceled, or at the very least postponed. I walked down to the office of Major Abduhadi, a Philippine Army civil affairs major I worked with every day. He and I were close; he was avuncular and attentive, the kind of guy you could open up to about matters large and small. He was ethnically Tausug, from Sulu, a Muslim and was deeply invested in helping his people. I loved that dude.

“You know what Joint Task Force Comet is planning for Eid, right?”

“Yes, Sgt. Richmond.”

“We have to stop this thing. It’s wrong, tactically, strategically. Shit, ethically.”

“I know, Sgt. Richmond.” He was downcast.

Major Abduhadi was resigned in a way that told me he’d already fought this fight within JTF Comet, as I had within my own organization, and had been overruled. Over the next week, he and I took every opportunity to dissuade our superiors from conducting the operation. The major was a Muslim in a Christian military. I was a PSYOP sergeant in a task force that believed we could muscle our way in and out of anything. We were both outsiders, fighting for the right cause, and losing the bureaucratic battle within militaries that still believed these conflicts were about body counts and turf.

'Have they no regard for our religion?'

I remember awaking to celebratory gunshots just before dawn on September 20, 2009. The call to prayer went out over the loudspeakers close to Camp Bautista, inviting all Muslims to bring their month-long fast to a close, to feast together, to celebrate Eid al-Fitr as a community of believers.

I walked out of my room into the muggy Sulu morning to see planes flying over Camp Bautista on their way to Indanan to drop their payloads. Soon thereafter, the Philippine attack helicopter spun up their rotors and lifted up from our camp to begin their strafing runs. Immediately my phone lit up with texts from our partners in the community.

“Sir, why is the AFP attacking the Muslims?”

“Why on Eid? Why attack on Eid? Have they no regard for our religion?”

“No Muslim would fight on Eid! Why do they attack us on our holy day?”

There was nothing I could say. I texted back trite answers, attempting in vain to defend an operation I’d fought against.

I went into the tactical operations center to watch the operation play out. Predictably, the AFP Marines had become bogged down in the jungle. They would be three hours late to the objective. So what did the AFP leadership decide to do? Double down on aerial firepower. They just kept pounding the mountainside with bombs, all the while the Muslims looked up from their prayer rugs, saw the aircraft, rotors and machine guns, and grew steadily angrier. In a word, the community radicalized. I could feel it in the air. And if I had been kneeling in that mosque, I can’t guarantee that I wouldn’t have reacted the same way. Had they attacked our base on Christmas, I would have taken it personally because of the symbolic timing of the operation. The Tausugs were no different in how they saw the Eid operation.

It didn’t take long before the Tausugs fought back with a vengeance. It’s important to keep in mind that the Tausugs were not defending the Red Cross kidnappers, the ASG. No, they weren’t broadly sympathetic with ASG’s Islamist vision of society. This was different. This operation had thrust the Tausugs back into the existential battles of the ’70s and ’80s against the Christian military. And make no mistake, Tausugs are warriors.

Reports started coming in from multiple outposts. Incoming small arms fire. Mortars.

Then came the threats. Sulu, once a key stronghold of a rebel group called the Moro National Liberation Front, has many camps of reintegrated rebels, pacified by a long period of peace negotiations with Manila. As the Philippine military attacked their target area, a bomb from one of the planes reportedly went off course and landed within the perimeter of a re-integree camp and hurt some people. The re-integree group took up their arms as they believed the military was attacking them. ASG wasn’t going to miss this opportunity to rally their supporters in the midst of this chaos. Reports from our friends in the community said that ASG was recruiting enough troops to overrun our camp once and for all.

Code Black

The first AFP casualties started to roll in. Our task force commander officially declared a Code Black, which means that you’re under imminent threat of a base being overrun. U.S. forces manned the guard towers and gates, side by side with the Filipinos, not yet understanding the depth of what was going on.

My team’s role in a Code Black was to guard our U.S. Air Force forward surgical team (FST). The FST were mostly reservists, and they were a solid medical team. They had already moved to the small Philippine military medical hospital to try to keep some of the casualties alive. My team provided security outside the hospital, which sat next to a poorly guarded perimeter wall.

The sun was setting. The threats were becoming more frequent. My contacts in neighboring communities began texting us more dire warnings: “There are 100 Abu Sayyaf massing here in Latih. They say they’re coming your way.”

I wasn’t keeping track of the number of casualties coming into the medical center. I just kept walking back and forth from the wall to my guys. The AFP had begun stacking dead Philippine Marines’ bodies in the carport where the ambulance was usually parked. They’d run out of room in the med center.

The bodies were ashen, exsanguinated. One guy had lost an arm, the other a leg just above the knee. Both dead. The last dude who lay by himself had been eviscerated. I walked back to Lugo and Lees. “Hey, there’re dead guys in the carport. Go spend 5 minutes looking at them and tell me what you learned. I’ve got your post.”

Let me offer a break in the action to say one thing: no team leader ever had a better crew than Tory Lugo and Dillon Lees. They were good soldiers, wiser than their tender years (21 and 22, respectively), and good men. One of the greatest honors of my life is that the U.S. Army allowed me to take them to war and bring them home.

Lugo and Lees hurried back to me. “Rich, why the fuck did no one put tourniquets on those two guys?”

“It looks like we’ve taught the Phils as much about combat medicine as we have about fighting a counterinsurgency.” None of us laughed.

Soon a large open-bed truck pulled into base. Someone called to us to help unload bodies. Lugo, Lees and I walked to the front of the medical center and almost choked on the smell of burned flesh and uniforms.

The truck full of Scout Marines had been caught in an ambush in Indanan. A Molotov cocktail was tossed into the bed of the truck where the Marines had been shooting at their attackers. The bodies were burnt to a crisp, and not the least bit recognizable. I lent the camp commandant my headlamp as he climbed into the back of the truck to find his younger brother who had died in the attack. They both were Muslim, Tausug, their family from Sulu. The stray light from my headlamp reflected off his tears as he searched and searched, and finally found his brother among the dead. We stacked his body with the others in the carport.

Two US KIA

Days passed. We weren’t allowed to leave our base. Our task force commander was too afraid someone would get hurt. ASG were capitalizing on us by running propaganda. Not only had the operation been a resounding failure, but the Philippines military and U.S. forces were holed up in their bases. We couldn’t have had a more cowardly response.

I finally received permission to conduct a radio show at a local FM station to reconnect with the community. The show was scheduled for September 29, 2009.

My team was working through its pre-mission checklist. I picked up our radio and took it into the operations center to prepare it with the cryptography that kept our radio traffic secret. As I came into the task force radioman’s small office, the radio wretched out a static-filled message, and I heard him speak into the mic: “Bad copy, bad copy. I heard two U.S. KIA, two AFP WIA? Over.”

The radioman, SSG Brandon Burkholder, was a solid soldier, though fairly new to special operations. He had a few deployments with the 82nd Airborne Division before he’d come over to us. I knew he had been on one of the Special Forces teams before someone tasked him to run the signal detachment.

The radio replied: “I say again, two U.S. KIA, two AFP WIA. Request immediate medevac. How copy? Over.”

Brandon turned to me, disbelief in his eyes. “That’s my old fuckin’ team, man.”

Roads, wells, solar power, community halls

The next few minutes were a blur. Brandon grabbed someone to man the radio and went off to find and inform the task force leadership. The camp came alive in seconds. No U.S. soldier had been killed in the Philippines since a bombing in 2002. This was a deliberate attack, and we’d apparently lost two of our own.

It turned out that an IED had struck one of our Humvees in Indanan, a few short kilometers away from where the failed Eid operation took place. Brandon’s old team had been providing security for a contingent of US Navy Seabees that were adding rooms to a school in a small village called Kagay.

I knew the town of Kagay well. Our task force had been working in Kagay for months. We’d extended a road to the area, dropped a deep water well, installed a solar dryer for their coconuts, and built a community hall. I had never asked what we were trying to do in Kagay; I just assumed we had good reasons for doing those projects.

And yet, for all that effort, no one in Kagay had informed the SF team or the Seabees that people were placing a powerful bomb on that dirt road. Not a single dollar spent was enough to engender the trust, love or compassion of that community, not even enough to let our guys know that a bomb was waiting for them when they would go for a water resupply.

Neither Jack nor Chris noticed the disturbed earth that hid the bomb. One second they were driving down a picturesque road on the backside of Mt. Tumatangis. The next second, they were both bleeding out next to the smoking shell of their Humvee.

Critical condition

Time wasn’t working the way it usually does. I don’t remember if things were happening quickly or slowly, only that Brandon and I were preparing to get Chris from the AFP helicopter that had went to retrieve him. He wasn’t dead, but he was in critical condition.

At some point, Lugo and Lees asked me what they could do. I told them the radio show mission was off, that the guys at Kagay had been hit, and to wait in the office for me. Lugo and Lees both knew Chris and Jack’s team since we’d been working with them over the past few months. To this day, I don’t know why I told them to wait in our office, but I just remember a desire to protect them from seeing what would come next.

“Dude, you got a pulse?”

Brandon and I pre-positioned an open-bed Humvee and had a stretcher ready when the Huey helicopter banked over our camp and landed. We ran out and pulled Chris’s body onto the green canvas of the stretcher. We moved Chris quickly to the bed of the Humvee, Brandon working on the left side of Chris’s body and me on the right side.

Chris’s left arm was amputated halfway between the elbow and shoulder. A medic had applied two tourniquets to stem the bleeding. Mangled streamers of flesh hung out of the wound, but the arterial bleeding was stopped. There were shrapnel wounds, as well, and Chris was unconscious.

I felt Chris’s wrist with my index and middle finger. Nothing. “Dude, you got a pulse?”

“Nah man, nothing here.”

I tore Chris’s pants and searched for his femoral artery. I swear to God I felt a faint pulse, but I don’t know if there really was one. I wanted that pulse to be there. But it may have just been the vibrations of the Humvee as it rumbled to the FST’s operating room.

I had handled dead bodies just that week, but I confess that it is different when you see someone who wears the same uniform as you laying there,  bleeding and broken. My team had been working with Jack and Chris just a few weeks ago, and we had gone with them to Kagay to speak with some of the villagers. I didn’t have anything more than a professional relationship with Jack or Chris. But they wore the same uniform, we had conducted a joint mission and we were pushing for more work in their area of operations. And now Jack was dead. Zapped. And Chris, a man I respected, lay in critical condition.

The Humvee stopped in front of the surgical suite, but the surgical team wasn’t ready yet. Brandon and I just kept waiting until the nurse called for us to bring Chris into the building.

Brandon and I ran inside with Chris’s stretcher and put him onto the operating table. Our job was done. We walked out and stood by the blood-stained Humvee.  Brandon and I smiled at each other. We’d done it. Between the medics at the blast site, the medic who had picked Chris up, and then Brandon and me at Camp Bautista, we’d kept him alive long enough to get to the docs. We’d beaten the golden hour, and Chris would live. Brandon lit up a cigarette, and I bummed one from him, even though I don’t smoke cigarettes. Looking down at my uniform, that was the first time I noticed I was covered in blood.

Gone

Soon word came that Jack’s body was being brought back to Camp Bautista. I was with Brandon in the open air meeting hall that we used for social events. The helo landed and some guys brought in the body bag. Jack was laid on one of the tables, and someone draped the bag with an American flag.

“Well, at least Chris made it,” I said to no one in particular.

The others glanced around, and then back at me. “No, he didn’t, Rich. Chris passed, too.”

“What? No, he didn’t. Brandon and I put him in the surgical suite ourselves. He was alive. He made it.”

“No dude, Chris died. He only lived about 15 minutes after you guys got him in there. He’s gone, man.”

I walked out of the hall across the gravel to my office where Lugo and Lees waited. I hadn’t seen them since I told them to wait for me in the office hours earlier.

Opening the door, I could tell they had no idea what had just transpired. “Rich, what happened?”

“Jack and Chris…they’re dead.” Silence. They looked at my stained uniform. We didn’t say anything else. I just walked out and went back to my room to decompress.

We held a private ceremony for Jack and Chris, led by the chaplain who had flown down to help out with the arrangements. I won’t discuss what I felt then, listening to those names called, hearing the sobs and knowing it was our fault Jack and Chris died. No operation on Eid. No radicalized island. No IED attack in Kagay. It’s as simple as that. I don’t know how my leadership briefed the incident to our higher headquarters in Zamboanga, or to the U.S. Embassy. But we failed the Tausugs we were there to serve. We failed Jack and Chris. We failed ourselves.

Buying loyalty

A few days later, I opened up to Lugo and Lees.

“Guys, we got it wrong. We need to dig into the data we have from our radio shows. If not a single person reported that IED in Kagay before Jack and Chris were killed, then we can assume that the task force’s money and effort in Kagay was incorrectly targeted. What does our data say?”

The three of us combed through six months of everything from text messages to our radio shows, plus interviews with local leaders and debriefs of the community. A clear pattern emerged. Governance: the warlord families were manipulating every election cycle with violence, bribes and vote stealing, creating a corrupt, impregnable oligopoly.

Two days later we met with the chancellor at Mindanao State University to go over the data we had. After showing it to him, the chancellor looked up and said, “I don’t see anything surprising here. What do you want to ask me?”

“We spent all that money and time in Kagay, and yet not a single resident or local leader reported the IED that killed our buddies. How is that possible?”

The chancellor looked at me in genuine disbelief, shook his head and gave a reply that haunts me to this day. “Do you think this is about buying loyalty? It’s not. It’s never been. My people cannot break the stranglehold the warlord families hold on this island. You tell your commander this: keep your roads and schools. If you can give us a free and fair election, we can do the rest ourselves.”

What went wrong

My team went to work preparing our data, analyzing it, reviewing it and preparing to show it to our higher leadership to change the strategy in Task Force Sulu. Every civil society group and credible local leader agreed with the chancellor’s summation: bad governance was at the heart of all the problems we saw throughout the island.

We scheduled a time to meet with our task force commander and the AFP Marine commander to share our data and findings. Civil society leaders we met with were thrilled: finally, they told me, the U.S. would focus on the right problems. Finally, they’d get what they’d wanted all along: election monitoring, transparency and accountability via our radio broadcasts and a public push to empower the politicians willing to adhere to good governance practices.

We gave the presentation, and then awaited the result. They gave their answer after speaking just a few sentences to each other, “No way, this is too politically risky. We could never do this.”

I pushed back, “But the data and the people say otherwise. We just buried Jack and Chris, and the AFP buried a dozen more. We are getting this mission wrong.”

“No, Sgt. Richmond. We’re not doing this.”

That day remains one of the worst in my career. Once again, I couldn’t change the minds of the men making the decisions. More people would die because of it.

I had one last option: the U.S. Embassy in Manila. My PSYOP commander in Zamboanga arranged for me to meet with the political-military officer in charge of Mindanao. I flew up to Manila, bought a shirt and tie and went with my boss to the embassy.

I presented the same information to the officer that I did to the commanders in Sulu: bad governance was driving instability in the task force. I gave him the raw data and our analysis.

“Look it over yourself,” I told him. “You don’t have to believe me. If you’ll just come down and see for yourself, I know we can get traction with these local partners. My team will be your personal meat-shields. You’ll be safe. Just hear what these folks have to say.”

The officer gave the printouts a quick glance. “Thanks, Sgt. Richmond. This is all very interesting. I’ll be glad to refer this to our Mindanao Working Group. Thanks for your time.”

The meeting ended right there, long before I thought it should. My boss took me outside. “What just happened, Major Hudson?” I was at a loss.

“That line he told you about the working group, do you know what that means in State Department-speak?”

“I guess not.”

“He told you to go fuck yourself.”

Heading home

That was the last big push my team made to make a difference. We served our last couple months repairing what we could of the Eid operation’s damage to our support on the island. The locals graciously accepted my apologies for not being able to do more, knowing my team had neither the mandate nor funding to address the underlying issues. I still feel the shame of helplessness whenever I think about that deployment.

As we headed home, the other team leaders and I all flew back to Manila together, a day before we were to fly commercial air back to the U.S., back to Ft. Bragg. We traded stories, notes, observations, and it was then that I realized that other teams had experienced this deployment in different ways. One team leader in particular, though, threw me into a rage.

“Man, that was the easiest deployment I’ve ever had. I can’t believe we get combat pay for this,” he joked.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” I shot back.

He looked stupidly at me. “It’s not like anyone died or anything…”

My jaw dropped as my anger rose. “Are you fucking kidding me? We buried two dudes a few weeks ago, and you’re saying this to me. You were on a different fucking island, not Mars. Are you fucking stupid?”

“Oh yeah, sorry, I forgot.” I stepped forward to punch him when someone put a hand on my chest and stopped me.

Atonement

That experience led me to leave the U.S. Army. Ever since the memorial service for Jack and Chris, I’ve wanted to get this work right. Every day I meet more groups—U.S. government and otherwise—who are willing to take a chance on understanding the communities they work in, setting aside their own agendas and assumptions. For me, it’s been six years of that work, and all the while, the KIA bracelet with Jack and Chris’s names on it hasn’t left my wrist. I couldn’t have done anything more to save them, but I’ve devoted my career to their memory and the countless others who have died as the U.S. has pursued objectives in foreign lands with no regard for the underlying causes of instability and violence.

People often ask me what might change the course of the conflicts we fight overseas. It’s tough to answer with any certainty—these wars tend to be a combustible, unpredictable mix of causes—but the one thing I have learned is that we won’t kill our way out of these wars anytime soon. There are some targets we no doubt must go after with military force, but the vast share of this fight is in tackling the root causes of instability, the kinds of things that don’t transform at the butt of a rifle. And the only thing I’ve found to be successful—patiently gathering local information, approaching our mission with humility, demanding rigor in how we ask and answer questions—are the things that don’t make it onto military recruiting commercials.

It was Max Weber who told us that politics is the “strong and slow boring of hard boards.” The sentence that follows, and the one almost no one quotes, is that the work “takes both passion and perspective.” In wars like these, I’ve come to realize that we have proceeded with an excess of passion and a lack of perspective. Jack and Chris died because of our lack of perspective, and while they won’t come back, my faint hope is that we can learn from the mistakes that have cost families and nations so dearly. – Rappler.com

This piece is republished with the author's permission. This piece was first published on the Observer.

Justin Richmond is the founder and executive director of impl. project. Before starting impl., Justin worked as a forward deployed engineer at Palantir Technologies, where he led field implementation during both the Typhoon Haiyan and Typhoon Hagupit responses in the Philippines. Previously, Justin served two tours in Afghanistan as USAID’s District Stability Framework coordinator, mentoring joint civilian/military/Afghan teams on stabilization implementation in eastern Afghanistan. Prior to USAID, he served in the U.S. Army as a Special Operations team leader in the southern Philippines, focusing on stabilization, counterinsurgency and information operations. 

Here's a secret: "Working hard" or "studying hard" isn't the solution to poverty or otherwise unfortunate circumstances. It's privilege.

Privilege is the stepping stone that got me to where I am today, not my own "hard work." I was privileged enough to be born to middle-class parents who did the hard work in order for me to be where I am today.

Privilege is what enabled me to finish my secondary education in a private high school with an annual tuition fee that could afford to send a student in the lower brackets of the socialized tuition system to UP for at least 5 semesters.

I was privileged enough to have a mother who came from a well-off family and a father who came from the province but got the luck of the draw in getting a corporate job, even without an elite education.

Yes, my parents and my parents' parents worked hard, and every day I gratefully reap the fruits of their love and labor. But the farmers who put the rice on my table, and the fisher folk who put the catch beside it also worked hard. The countless other workers who built the roof I sleep under, the school building that I attend class in – they all worked hard.

The list goes on.

Opportunity 

Yes, I can admit that I "studied hard,” enough for our educational system to grant me honors as a mark of my “intelligence", enough to pass the exams I needed to get into a good university. But so did countless of other students in public schools, who have been deprived of the right opportunities to quality education.

Even in law, the benefits and effects of having privilege permeate the institution that should be enforcing what is just and fair. People with status, names, wealth, and influence rise above the ranks of an institution that should have penalized them for not doing what is legal or for not complying with what is right.

That's the magic of privilege. It gives people with enough means like me the chance to slug it out with the higher-ups by gritting our teeth, keeping our heads down and obeying the system. 

Privilege gives those in the right social circles the chance to game the said system to their advantage. But it also puts down those who would have otherwise had the same access to the same rights, but who are, unfortunately, without the magical benefits of privilege.

Tell that to the out-of-school youth who can't afford an education or the laborers who work under illegal conditions just to get by every day on minimum wage. 

You know all the sad statistics, the grim figures, the gut-wrenching stories. These are what our privileged circles and environments inculcated in us since childhood; we are told such examples to goad us into working harder and studying harder.

You know about these people. Yet why do many seem to think they are in these deplorable circumstances, simply because they failed to study hard or work hard? Are people that blinded in believing that those who are in poverty are all lazy and uneducated?

So the next time you have the gall to tell someone to "work hard" or "study hard,” I challenge you to think about the opportunities in your life that put you in the blessed position to say that.

Because unless you're blind, apathetic, or that insensitive to the state of this country and our fellow Filipinos, you know as well as I do that "working hard" and "studying hard" will only ever make a difference to the few who are privileged, not the unfortunate majority. — Rappler.com

Alex Austria is a BA Journalism graduate of the University of the Philippines Diliman. She is currently a second year law student at the University of the Philippines College of Law.

C. is sitting in her house, anemic, tired-looking, and emaciated. Her 3 malnourished children, a 3-year-old song and two-year-old twin daughters, are sleeping, with rashes all over their skin and worms in their bellies. None of them have ever seen a doctor, they are mostly staying at home.

Are they living in a remote area, too far from any potential support? Or maybe health treatment is just too expensive?

They are in Vitas, Barangay 105, the poorest of Tondo. The place is reached by non-governmental organizations (NGOs) and public services. In fact, there is a free feeding program just 10 minutes away from C.'s makeshift house. Walk 10 minutes more and there is the Vitas Health Center, which offers free medicine and check-ups.

You have 3 options on how you view Filipinos like C.:

1) You can either take the easy path and say "poor people are lazy, they don’t make the efforts to solve their issues, that’s actually why they are poor."

2) Or you can stay in the middle and think that "poor people lack knowledge; we need to educate them and make them understand what are the right actions and decisions to make.”

3) And finally, you can consider C. as a person, someone as smart as you. Throw away ready-made answers and try to understand what’s actually happening in C.'s situation.

Demotivation 

Enfance Foundation, an NGO founded in 2003, chose the 3rd path, assuming that socio-economic exclusion results in – rather than from – the lack of self-esteem, lower cognitive functions, and consequently, very poor agency.

Instead of telling C. to do what would feel right for us and therefore confirming her inability to properly raise her children by herself, we should take the time to know her, her story, and her dreams. We need to decipher her words, like this odd sentence that blurted out of her lips the first time we met: “Gusto ko lumabas pero hindi ko alam paano (I want to go out but I don’t know how)."

Originally from Davao, C. migrated to Manila in hopes of eventually becoming a caregiver overseas. She believed that she could complete her training in the city and land a contract that would take her elsewhere.

But by the time she completed her training, she had run out of funds. She ended up wandering the streets until she met N., who then became her partner.

C. and N. live in the slums of Tondo. She had 3 children and started staying at home, waiting for N.'s P100 to P150 pesos daily income from scavenging. She felt alone and disempowered.

After 9 months of weekly visits from the Enfance Foundation, C's family received treatment from the local health center. C. also finally met her neighbors and started looking for a job.

The Enfance Foundation established a relationship with C. and N., seeing them as intelligent human beings capable of deciding what is the best for themselves and their family.

Not just bodies 

There are a dozen other stories like C.'s; tales of teenage parents, kids growing up with violence, and young Filipinos who stopped believing in the goodness of themselves and of others.

Unfortunately, taking time to talk with poor people is still not considered a priority by many. Getting funding to do just that may also be difficult.

Many organizations, however, have already shifted their views from merely treating poor families as nothing but mouths to feed to considering them as minds to educate. While this change is definitely an improvement, it still does not remove the condescending and paternalistic tone attached to these programs. This mindset is saying that “there is no point in listening to poor people, we just need to give or teach them what they need and they will get better.”

Some people will not accept such help because they think they don’t deserve it, or because they don’t think anything can really change. Others will accept assisstance and get better, but would then wait for another benefactor.

Why? Because dole-out approaches don’t really improve their self-esteem or their agency.

The Enfance Foundation's experience shows that by simply conversing and establishing relationships with marginalized families, we are helping them better understand their history, issues, and resources. This can make them feel in control of their life.

We need to address physiological and psychological needs at the same time, not just one over the other. Empowerment requires not only a healthy body and an educated mind, but also a high dose of self-confidence, which is hampered when we consider individuals as mere “beneficiaries.” – Rappler.com

Adrien Cascarino studied psychology and business in France and has worked for ENFANCE Foundation as its Executive Director and as its program manager for two years.

If you want to help or volunteer for ENFANCE, you can reach them at info.enfancefoundation@gmail.com or at (+63) 918 665 3419. You may also visit their website or Facebook page.

The Constitutional Convention elected for the purpose of drafting the 1935 Constitution was overtly partial to the American constitutional structure. Hence, I have always taken issue with their decision to adopt a unitary form of government instead of a federal arrangement akin to the United States.  

Of course, this deviation was purposely designed to establish an extremely strong executive branch. Sadly, this move has given rise to a constitutional order that actually allows governance of the country to be overly reliant on the person residing in Malacañang. 

The bitter irony here is that those terrible years under the Marcos dictatorship should have jolted our heads to change course and avoid the folly of giving too much power to a single human being. And yet the 1987 Constitution still did exactly that. 

Consider first Section 1 of Article VII on the Executive Department which states that, “The executive power shall be vested in the President of the Philippines.” Then read this in conjunction with Section 17 which provides that, “The President shall have control of all the executive departments, bureaus, and offices. He shall ensure that the laws be faithfully executed.”

The very text of our Constitution conveys straightaway the immense power wielded by the Chief Executive. Indeed, the authority of the office is practically absolute as ruled in the landmark case of Marcos vs. Manglapus in 1989.

“The powers of the President are not limited to what are expressly enumerated in the article on the Executive Department and in scattered provisions of the Constitution. This is so, notwithstanding the avowed intent of the members of the Constitutional Commission of 1986 to limit the powers of the President as a reaction to the abuses under the regime of Mr. Marcos, for the result was a limitation of specific power of the President, particularly those relating to the commander-in-chief clause, but not a diminution of the general grant of executive power.”

An interesting contrast is the way the Constitutional Court of Korea described the office of their President:

“However, the President is not an institution that implements the policies of the ruling party, but instead, the President is the constitutional institution that is obligated to serve and realize the public interest as the head of the executive branch. The President is not the President merely for part of the population or a certain particular political faction that supported him or her at the past election, but he or she is the President of the entire community organized as the state and is the President for the entire constituents. The President is obligated to unify the social community by serving the entire population beyond that segment of the population supporting him or her.” 

The characterization of our President is palpably tilted in favor of how powerful the station is rather than on the responsibility it carries. The South Korean perception of their president really goes the other way with its emphasis on the primacy of the duty of this position to the people, even downplaying its prestige. 

Highlighting this very difference is timely given that Filipinos are now in the thick of electing a new president. This is obviously the period where the recalibration of attitudes about executive power is urgently needed. (READ: Take the #PHVoteChallenge)

The very first adjustment we all have to make is to be particularly critical of what the candidates say. Note though that commentaries about them – whether from respected pundits or serious bloggers – should only be supplementary in our analysis and should not be taken as gospel truth. Our examination and reflection should focus primarily on the very words that come out of the presidentiable’s mind and mouth.

The easiest way to go about this is to get hold of their platforms. Grace Poe already has her 20-point agenda. Mar Roxas is essentially banking on the perceived success of Daang Matuwid and simply promises to continue along this road. Jejomar Binay has his 3 Pillars program of government. 

Ostensibly, each of us will have our own method to study the nitty gritty of these proposals. But it is imperative that we do not forget the dictatorial underpinnings of the position these candidates are gunning for.

A televised debate would be a good way to hear the presidential aspirants directly. On this score, media must be tasked to take the mantle for the general public. They must be relentless and unforgiving in probing the candidates. Let the undeserving unravel on live television and the destined shine.

Additionally, I likewise propose that we rethink the way we express support for our chosen candidates. From the hundreds of comments and statements I have seen on the Internet, the faith shown by followers of the candidates actually border on fanaticism and hero-worship.

Let me be clear though. I am certainly not against the outward display of loyalty to an admirable candidate. Nor am I averse to mobilizing mass actions for a noble cause even if the face of this undertaking is a respected politician. 

I draw the line when the only aspects of the candidate being promoted are personality traits and past achievements. And I most certainly object to the practice of harping on the negative qualities or inadequacies of political rivals under the guise of advocating for platform and principle-based politics when it is so obvious that the sole purpose of the critique is to eliminate the competition.

The plain fact is, the electorate deserves to know from these presidential aspirants the specific public policies they intend to translate into decisive action. We want to have something concrete to hold the winner to account during his term of office. Hence, the same old spiels on “uplifting the masses out of poverty” or “creating a strong republic” or “paving a straight road” will no longer suffice.

Voters deserve to hear a narrative that actually addresses the paramount concerns of all Filipinos. Therefore, we should immediately rebuff “soapbox pronouncements” that are only inspired by the news of the day and filled with spin and stop-gap measures. 

Finally, it is time for Filipinos to heed this grave warning – "Power tends to corrupt, and absolute power corrupts absolutely.” 

We must all realize by now that this collection of words does not simply form a fancy political adage. This statement functions now as a stern caveat to us all, born from years of experience under Marcos, Estrada, and Arroyo. – Rappler.com

Michael Henry Yusingco is an independent legislative and policy consultant. He conducts research on current issues in state-building, decentralization, and constitutionalism.

Dear Candidate Leni,

I hope you get to re-read Marites Danguilan-Vitug's letter to you in 2012 when you were running for Congress in Naga City. That is the original "Dear Candidate Leni" open letter. I write now to say I agree with Ms. Vitug. I will even go beyond describing you as having not just empathy (Ms. Vitug's term) but also rootedness in society.

I am a teacher and some of my students have already approached me to ask how they should assess you, given that you have had only 3 years of experience in politics as Congress Representative. I told them that they should look at the "experience" of a candidate – any candidate – in totality. And that it is thus crucial that they, as voters, go through the tedious task of investigating the experiences of candidates as these serve as "inputs" for the candidates' politics and governance, should they win those elective posts.

In your case, your experience as a lawyer who worked for and with marginalized sectors should serve you well. That is the input that you will bring to the vice presidency, should you win the seat. And what input is better than understanding, in a deep manner, the ills of this society and the struggles of our people?

In fact, it is that kind of input that so many of our candidates lack. These candidates claim that they know poverty but that is actually only because they (we all) see poverty every day, and because, during elections, it is the vote of the poor that they have to seek. They, however, know nothing of the everyday struggles of the poor or the collective struggles of the marginalized.

These politicians think and claim that they know society but they embed themselves only in the small, narrow world of their gated communities and their exclusive circle of elite friends. In other words, their experience of understanding and forging solidarity with the poor is superficial. That will never be sufficient input for governance in a country where majority are poor.

Critical mass

Your input/experience may not be enough as well. It may not be enough to radically transform our incoherent politics and damaged political culture because even history tells us that radical transformation always requires the mobilization of a critical mass and can never rely simply on the bureaucratic decisions of a few powerful individuals.

History also tells us, however, that it takes individuals to lead the building of this critical mass as such cannot simply be created spontaneously. My hope thus is that you will build and mobilize this much-needed critical mass to transform our politics – instead of allowing elitist, traditional politics to transform you (which we all know happens, even to the best and the most progressive of politicians).

I have no doubt that you are already experiencing the push-and-pull of mass-based and elite-based politics. You cannot escape that. And you will not be able to escape the questions that your party has not fully answered: what to do with the peace process now that the BBL is practically dead? in which direction to take the Mamasapano investigation? how to deal with those accused of anomalies related to the PDAF and DAP, including those who belong to your own party? how to stop the Lumad killings? how to stop abusive labor practices or rampant land grabbing? how to push government institutions to deliver?

A vice president can only do so much. A VP, after all, has a principal and the president and the VP are supposed to work in tandem. I will thus not expect you to attack your colleagues in public and to sow division within your ranks. But I do expect you to engage them fiercely from within. I expect you to be critical of your party mates even as you maintain support for your party.

There has to be a way to criticize without withdrawing support. I hope that in your struggle for social justice (as you claim it to be your struggle), you will also struggle to push your party to walk the "Daang Matuwid" (Straight Path) talk.

The fear of some that you will be "used" is not without basis, given the dynamics of realpolitik. Losing your autonomy is a real danger. But I think you will lose that only if you lose sight of your goals, and, more importantly, only if you lose confidence in yourself.

No unconditional support

Congresswoman Leni, I do not know you personally but we have actually met a couple of times in various forums. You come across as a no-frills, sensible, grounded person, and it is this persona, as well your background, that prods me to consider you seriously as a candidate.

I will closely follow your campaign. And should you win in 2016, I will closely follow your decisions and actions. I will support you when I see that your purpose converges with what I think society – especially the marginalized – needs. I will oppose you and challenge you when I see that your choices deviate from these needs.

I say these things not with arrogance (for I am not even in politics and am just an ordinary citizen), but with the belief that it is valid for citizens like me to remind candidate-politicians like you that voter-citizen support is never unconditional. Such support, in fact, should never be unconditional. Otherwise, we would not be citizens but sheep that need only to be herded.

Sincerely,
A concerned citizen

– Rappler.com

Dear Maneee,

Na unsa na man ka uy?

Hapit ko nahulog sa katre ganingang buntag sa pagdungog nako nga modagan ka kuno pagka- senador. Na hala, pagka-kuyaw ba!

Naunsa na man ka uy? Wala ka ma'y nahimo sa sa Kongreso. Ingon sa Rappler, ikaw daw ang pinaka-absinot didto. Dayon nakit-an nako sa TV nga miingon ka wala ka magpakita sa Komonwelt kay tua ka sa Sarangani para atimanon ang mga panginahanglan sa mga tawo.

Pero Maneee, mi-text ko sa akong mga ka-cosa sa Sarangani ug nangutana kung tua ka didto. Ang tubag nila pareho: “Bay tua man si Congressman sa Gensan. Iya ra mang mga assistant ang mianhi.” Kinsa may atong tuhoan aber? 

Ingon ka wala sab ka maka-apil sa Congress sessions kay ga-training ka. Mas motuo pa ko niani Pero Manee dili man sab adlaw-adlaw ang training nimo di ba? Humana ang away ninyo ni Floyd, wa na ka'y kontra, ngano wala man ka mobalik sa Kongress?

Lisod magpalusot niani Manee. Naa man sa record gud.

Lahi ang Senado

Pero balik ta sa isyu.

Bai, dili baya basta basta ang pagka-senador. Kung mabutang ka nianang posisyona kinahanglan bag-uhon na nimo imong pagtanaw. Dili na Sarangani ang imong kabanayan, tibuok Pilipinas na.  

Kung aduna kay mga projects kinahanglan nga maayo ka mobalanse sa mga mangayo niani. Kung ihatag lang ni nimo sa Sarangani o Mindanao, daghang manga-suko. Paboritism ka kuno.

Dili na ka mahimo magsalig kay Jinkee o si Buboy na lang. Sa Kongreso mahimo barkada-barkada lang, kay ang ubang Kongresman ingon ana man sab ang ilang sakop. Pero lahi na sa Senado. Kinahanglan mas propesyonal na ang imong sakop sa buhatan. Kinahanglan makahibalo sila mag-“multi-tasking” (mao ning akong bag-ong pulong nga giingon sa ako ni Caruso).

Dayon kanang imong mga isponsor nga mahimong balaod, kinahanglan imo ning ipanalipod sa debate sa Senado. Banga-on nimo sila ni Alan Cayetano, Pia Cayetano, Coco Pimentel, Chiz Escudero ug TG Guingona. Mas hadlok pa kung si Miriam ang motindog ug mosugod ug debate nimo. Maulaw mi ug tan-aw kung mahitabo kini. 

Kabalo ko nga brayit ka kaayo. Dako kaayo ang akong pagdayeg sa imohang kinabuhi. Mamaligya-ay ka ug sigarilyo atong bata pa ka. Boksingero pud. Dayon sukad sa imong primerong knockout pwerte nang saka ang imong swerte. Ug gapadayon pa gihapon ni karon.

Pero kining klase nga pagka-brayit ang dili haom sa Senado, Manee. Kinahanglan nga naa kay gamay nga mahibaw-an sa mga balaod atong miagi, para kanang mga balaod nga imong itanyag dili ma-utro. Kataw-an ka ana. Kinahanglan sab nga aduna kay hanaw sa kasaysayan sa Pilipinas; dili na lang GenSan o Sarangani ang imong ipagsugid. Unya Manee, naa ka ba'y paghisayod sa kasaysayan sa Pilipinas.

Tinuod nga mahimo ka mag-abang ug tutor, pero di ko sigurado kung maayo ka mohinumdum sa iyang itudlo sa imoha. Kabalo ko niani kay ang pagtudlo sa kasaysayan sa ato-a laay kaayo. Dili mapakagana. Seguro gyud nga maka-tulog ka!

Unaha imong probinsya

Manee, sa akong panahom, mas maayo siguro kung mobalik na lang ka sa Sarangani ug seryosohon nimo ang pagtabang didto. Kay pobre kaayo nang imong probinsya. Tan-awa ra gud ang gisulat sa Rappler: ang Sarangani ang pinaka-walo sa mga pobreng probinsya sa Pilipinas.

Daghan kaayong kabus sa imong panimalay Manee.

Kung seryoso gyud ka nga mag-alagad sa mga katawhan sa Sarangani, kinahanglan masakwat sa nimo ilang mga panginabuhi. Unsa'y buot pasabot niani? Yano kaayo.

Una imong i-follow up katong imong mga gipang-hatag nga ambulansya, para maniguro lang nga wala ni kawata. Kung tua pa sila, kinahanglan madugang ka ug mga public health clinic ug ipa-usbaw nimo ang mga pipila ka ospital lang didto. Dayong mangita ka ug paagi nga madami ang mga doktor ug nars nga mobalik o mobalhin sa Sarangani. Buot pasabot niani ang imong ihalad nga suweldo mas dako dako gamay sa ilang nadawat karon.

Dayon Manee, ayaw kalimti intawon ang mga eskwelahan. Ang mga maestro. Dili lang ubos sa maayo ilang suweldo, wala sila'y mga chalk, lapis, eraser, ballpen, ug uban pang panginahanglan nila ug sa ilang estudyante.

Wa pud silay mga textbook, Manee. Sa usa ka eskwelahan nga gibista namo atong usa ka bulan, natagbaw lang sila ug Xerox sa mga panid sa usa ka libro ang gigamit sa mga bata. Gibaylo-baylo lang ang kada usa ka panid sa mga bata.

Gipapha ang History kay wa may textbook ang eskuwelahan. Mohatag unta ko ug kopya nako pero ingon ang maestro nga dili ni nila magamit kay wala ma'y pagtugot sa DECS. Illegal nga textbook ang guwas niani.

Wa silay hanaw sa Algebra kay ang maestra nga gatudlo niani miguwas nga Inglis titser diay. Ang 1+1, 1x1, 1-1 ug 1/1 ray gitudlo, dayon wala na. Sa music lang maka-ingon ang mga bata nga hawod sila.

Wala ka ba kaila aning mga bata-a Manee? Dili ba nimo makita ang imong kaugalingon niining mga bata? Ug pipila man kunhay ang mahimo nga parehas nimo? Ug pipila sa ilaha ang dili makapauna sa High School? Sa College?

Gatuo ako nga ang kadaghanan sa ilaha mahimong manglilimos. Ang sangpotanan sa kadaghanan nila mopareho sa ilang mga ginikanoan: mag-uuma, peon, o kung dili mahimong mga kriminal.

Busa Manee, ako kining hangyo awhag kanimo. Tabangi sa ang Sarangani, unaha imong probinsya. Kay kung mabuhat ni nimo, mahimo nimong parehas sa Dabaw ang Sarangani, Hesus, Bai, dili lang senador siguro ang imong mapangandoy. Mas taas pa niana.

Mamalihug lang,

Usa ka botante nimo

– Rappler.com

--

Patricio N. Abinales is an OFW

The news of former Sen. Joker Arroyo’s death last Oct. 5 while on a trip to the US came as a complete shock to everyone. The entire Filipino nation and many others around the globe mourned the loss of a true Filipino patriot. (READ: Former Senator Joker Arroyo dies)

Joker Arroyo, 88, was a lot of things: a staunch human rights advocate, a freedom fighter, a former cabinet secretary, a lion in the Senate who could work both aisles, a straight as an arrow public servant who refused to touch his pork barrel funds. He was all that and a lot more. But to me Joker Arroyo was a phone pal. Yes, a phone pal during those pre-internet, pocket beeper, mobile phone-was-a-rarity, text message-free days of the 90s.

Joker was then representative of the lone congressional district of Makati, the first high-profile position that he picked up and that he held on for 9 years after he left the Cory Administration. I, on the other hand, was a reporter covering the city’s central business district and its environs for the now-defunct Village Voice of the Roces Family.  

Joker and I would call each other regularly. We had a chat club with an exclusive membership of two, he and I. Our conversations centered on barangay issues, literally “usapang barangay.” We discussed matters concerning his constituents-- his neighbors in Dasmariñas Village, as well as the rich enclaves of Forbes Park, Urdaneta, San Lorenzo, Bel-Air and Magallanes Villages.

My publication was a weekly throwaway that landed every Saturday morning at the doorsteps of people who lived behind the gilded gates of Makati. The paper delivered in-depth news about local developments that directly impacted or threatened the city’s exclusive communities. Village Voice was Joker’s other way of connecting directly to his constituents, the so-called captains of the industry, the decision makers, the movers and shakers, to find out what bothered their comfort zone.

Back then Makati was still working on becoming a city. Fort Bonifacio was just being parceled out and plans for a big, mixed-use development that was to become the Global City was just on the drawing board.

There was also a lot of tension in Forbes Park as its building restrictions was nearing expiration date, and some residents proposed to free up housing codes on McKinley Avenue and open it up to high density developments such as hotel buildings.  

Privacy and quality of life, the most prized considerations of the privileged few, were at stake and the residents were alarmed. A war ensued, pitting members of the old rich families, the original settlers of the village, against each other. Everyone was involved. The public meetings in the barangay was a virtual boardroom casting coup, where owners of the country’s top corporations and their families—from the patriarch down to the grandchildren were in attendance.

In short, there was a lot of action in the neighborhood and I was Joker’s main link to what was going on (and his main source for inside stories). This was why we became phone pals. He read the paper on the weekend and come Wednesday afternoon, he would give me a call to talk about the issues (he’s aware that we put the paper to bed on a Thursday so he made it a point to reach me on a Wednesday). My office staff already knew our routine that they would notice if my phone pal didn’t call (or if I didn’t call him). Some of our conversations were rather short, about 30 minutes or less, but we also had some long ones that lasted for over an hour.

One of those long conversations we had was when he asked me to share details of a meeting at Forbes Park that led to a very rare public display of an intense outburst between Don Jaime Zobel de Ayala and Don Jesus Cabarrus that I had witnessed. “What really happened? Magkuwento ka naman,” he requested. Joker liked to hear details, a lot of details, more than I’d care to offer in my writings. May pagka-tsismoso din (He was a gossip). He was a good listener who would constantly break into hearty laughs, making our exchange less formal.

He was makulit (importunate), all right, and his sentences packed sarcasm, which made our discussion all the more interesting. But he was also very accommodating and accessible.

One time I had requested a page boy at the Lower House to grab him from the floor of the session hall to take my call on the landline. It was a hit or miss attempt because I was never sure that he would get up, walk to the back of the hall and pick up the phone. Sino ba naman ako. But he did.

“O anong kailangan mo (what do you need)?” a familiar voice said on the other line.

I told him that Dante Tinga (then the top banana of Taguig-Pateros) had just issued a scathing remark about Makati’s boundary claim on Fort Bonifacio. “Care to comment?” I said.

I then heard a quick exasperated snort on the other line. And next came the bomb: “Eh tinga nga yun eh! “ He just referred to his colleague’s last name in an accent that literally changed its meaning: tinga, instead of tee-ngah, now meant food stuck in between the teeth.

“Pinapansin ba ang tinga (do you pay attention to food stuck in your teeth)? “Joker declared, reducing the would be Supreme Court associate justice into a piece of an invisible broccoli lodged between his two front teeth. An invisible broccoli that he would flick with his acid tongue without pity.

I laughed and pressed on: “No, you didn’t say that. Can you get territorial, too, and issue a comeback?” I said begging for a usable quote.

“Hindi ko papansinin ang isang tinga (I don’t pay attention to food stuck in my teeth),” he repeated as we both hung up, laughing. He went back to his chair in the session hall and I, to my typewriter without a quote from him.

There were plenty of salvos like that.

One time we were talking about Tripa de Gallina, that sewer water catchment area behind the walls of Magallanes Village and how it’s always clogged and floods Magallanes.

“Of course I think of Magallanes and their problem. How can I not? When I take a crap and flush the toilet in the morning, I send something straight down to Magallanes,” he quipped.

Yes, Joker trusted me with his occasional outbursts. As a matter of fact, half of our kuwentong barangay did not see print. I learned how to filter through the useless, controversial, attention-grabbing one-liners and stuck to the real issues. I think that’s what I learned from my dealings with Joker. To see outbursts as an unfiltered betrayal of a person’s human side; something that had to be respected because it had nothing to do with the real issue. But he also taught me how to stick to my guns, to articulate what I believe was just and right. And because of Joker I learned how not to be cowed down by the powerful.

One thing about our conversations, they were very “in the now.” He wasn’t keen on taking me down memory lane and tell me about the glorious past. No talk about the Marcos dictatorship, no talk about his stint as Cory Aquino’s executive secretary, and all that jazz. Joker hardly stayed out of topic. Once in a while though he would drop light-hearted digs at the personalities in the village that would betray how he really felt about the elite crowd. “Alam mo naman yang mga mayayaman (you know how those rich people are),” was an oft-repeated phrase of his. It was clear that he broke bread with his wealthy neighbors, but it was also very clear that he knew that he was not one of them and had no pretensions about being accepted as one. He was that real.

I asked him one time why he only had one person on his legislative staff.  He said there was no use for more because there’s not much legwork needed at his office. He said he’s not in the business of filing local bills, noting that it won’t even pass committee level because of his being a contrarian. “I am a fiscalizer. My role is to fiscalize, mang-inis kasi diyan naman ako magaling (to get a rise out of people because that’s where I’m good at).

As for his being a scrooge, well I have one story and it happened at the dawn of the cellphone era. One time I got a call from him, but he was breaking as if there was a washing machine buzzing in the background so I asked what it was. “I’m in my car,” he explained. I gasped, ”You are calling my landline on your cell? Sigurado ka (are you sure)?” I said concerned about his bill and about his being a kuripot (tightwad). “Sandali lang naman ito (this is not going to take long),” he countered. The call lasted for about five minutes.

When I quit my job and decided to move permanently to the US, I gave Joker a call to formally say goodbye and to endorse to him my replacement, Susan de Guzman, formerly of the Philippine Daily Inquirer. I expected him to give me a lecture about my decision and preach to me about love of country, etc. He did not. In fact, it was the opposite. He wished me well and told me, “ay maganda nga doon” and went on to say how much  he enjoyed the open space in the US and how envious he was of New York’s Central Park and wished Makati had it’s own version.  

That was the last time we talked on the phone. At Christmas that year, I sent Joker a card from Los Angeles. A first from me. For several years before that Joker would fax me a handwritten note at the Village Voice to wish me a Merry Christmas. He was thoughtful that way. I think I still have some of the faded thermal paper with his messages somewhere in my file in my garage.

Writing this piece brought back memories of the phone pal that I was truly privileged to know; a personality who I burned the telephone lines with for many hours, but who I only met in person one time (a three-minute hello and goodbye encounter at the session hall of the Lower House); a public servant that I truly respected for his integrity and lastly, my source who almost always, had the last say and literally, would have the last hearty laugh in our conversations.

Bye, Sir Joker. Have a wonderful forever. – Rappler.com

Ruby Clemmons is a former Manila-based journalist. She resides in Los Angeles with her husband and their two girls, ages 11 & 8.

It’s that time of the year when politicians finally take the plunge and file their certificates of candidacy for elective posts – from president down to municipal councilor. After all the hemming and the hawing, the backroom deals and intense courtship, the trial balloons and teaser ads, the people who want to lead us will now have to sign off on a document declaring their intent to run in the May 2016 elections.

Many Filipinos could not be faulted for treating this with a dose of cynicism. 

We have 3 vice presidential bets – Bongbong Marcos, Alan Cayetano, Sonny Trillanes – who couldn’t care less if they had a standard-bearer or a senatorial slate to be campaigning with. Basta, they want to be vice president.

We have a presidential wannabe – once the toast of the town – who’s publicly courted several running mates who have all shunned him. We have an ousted president who spent the past months wheeling and dealing, identifying who could accommodate favors for his jailed son in exchange for his endorsement. We have senatorial bets who prefer to be a common candidate of all parties because, to them, the more, the merrier. Why, we even had someone who almost became a senatorial candidate if not for the hot, gyrating girls he brought to a public event! 

In the provinces, we will again witness the swapping of posts between retiring husbands and pinch-hitting wives, between one political clan to another, between the old and the old, between the feudal lord and the do-gooder businessman.

This week’s hoopla and noise will no doubt make us think that it will be politics as usual in May 2016.

But it won’t be for 3 key reasons.

By 2016, it is estimated that about 65% of Filipino voters would be 40 years or younger. This would make today’s millennials the biggest bloc of voters in the upcoming presidential race. A lot of idealism and youthful energy is fuelling the campaigns right now. And, for the most part, this idealism will extend all the way to election day.

Technology at the voter’s finger tips is the second game changer for this election. In the last 6 years, Filipinos online have shamed erring public officials, put them on their toes, and organized protests to force them to change policies. While the choice in 2016 is personal, its impact is social. We have no doubt that Filipinos will use technology to choose the leader they deserve in 2016. Thus our PHVote challenge– to bring together a million volunteers who will help their community compel candidates to talk about issues, vote with enough information, and protect their votes.

Beyond demographics and social media is a 3rd game changer in this presidential race: the context. Since the ouster of the dictator in 1986, Filipinos have booted out corrupt leaders. They are expected to vote against the corrupt in 2016. But leadership demands more than honesty. It’s a lesson Filipino voters have learned through the years as intractable problems pile up and solutions to them continue to elude the nation.

We hope to begin the election season in true search of the leader we need and deserve. The country navigates a fast-changing world that requires integrity – but also a lot of wisdom, quick-thinking, and courage. – Rappler.com

Everybody was expectant and was just waiting for Rep. Manny Pacquiao to confirm and announce they are abandoning one ship and jumping into another.

After all, they believe the decision they will take will not only be best for their party.   It is to the best interest of Mindanao that they align with many other local government officials in the island in supporting Davao City Mayor Rodrigo Duterte who is expected to file his certificate of candidacy for the presidency anytime next week. (READ: Duterte declaring in a few days?)

When the meeting at the private office of Pacquiao inside his expansive mansion was over, many were left hanging.

Pacquiao has been included in the ‘dream’ but lean ticket of 8 possible senatorial candidates in Duterte’s wish list.

But the Sarangani congressman told them Duterte was still undecided.

General Santos City Mayor Ronnel Rivera came in worried. He left still unable to tell which party they will align even though their local political party, the People’s Champ Movement (PCM), is a longtime ally of Vice President Jejomar Binay’s United Nationalist Alliance (UNA). 

The city mayor in fact declared in a press conference the day earlier that his heart is with Duterte and will throw their support behind the maverick Davao City mayor if the latter decides to run for president.

Even Sarangani Gov. Steve Chiongbian Solon said a Duterte presidency will give Mindanao the attention and assistance it has been wanting but has been denied for decades, centuries even.

Like Rivera, Solon was also ready to affirm their party stand that once Duterte declares and files his certificate of candidacy, they will immediately swear in as member of the party that will officially nominate the Davao City mayor.

But first, they must secure a certificate of nomination and acceptance.

PDP-Laban regional party chair and former South Cotabato Gov. Mike Sueno has reportedly readied their certificate of nominations – both Rivera and Solon for their local slates. (READ: Duterte identifies senatorial candidates he will support)

The Certificat of Nomination and Acceptance (CONA) is crucial to a candidate seeking an elective post. The CONA of political parties now has to be submitted together with the certificates of candidacy otherwise their candidates will be declared independent. In which case, they will not be entitled to election watchers.

With Duterte issuing a cryptic message that only if he is seen at the Commission on Elections office can everybody consider him running for president, Rivera and his partymates are clueless. They are set to file their certificates of candidacies on Monday. 

But Duterte’s continuing perceived indecision has many local parties and candidates in Mindanao in the bind.

Will they wait for Duterte until the last minute and take the risk of being denied party accreditation or align with the parties that now have 3 presumptive candidates – Binay’s UNA, the Liberal Party of Mar Roxas or the expected nomination of Grace Poe by the Nationalist People’s Coalition?

Take the Liberal Party out of the equation. It already has a full slate in the city. Senator Grace Poe has also not reached out to them. (READ: Roxas in Davao: 'Daang Matuwid' needs defending)

Mayor Rivera however said they will proceed with the filing of their COCs on Monday even if Pacquiao himself said Saturday evening he is filing his on Friday next week, October 16. He is leaving for New York tonight where he will speak before the United Nations.

But he did not hide his disappointment.

“We want to support Duterte but he also has to understand our predicament,” the city mayor said.

While just about everybody is waiting for a categorical statement from Duterte on whether he will run after all, insiders from the Davao city mayor’s camp is confident he will not disappoint.

Duterte spokesperson Peter Lavina said Mayor Duterte has been known to keep his political decisions very close to himself and to very few trusted people who will not preempt and force him to issue a statement.

But there is a clue. The source who was at the meeting Thursday evening, October 8, said that the debate and question over whether or not Duterte is running is over.

It has now become a question of when he is going to do it.

Duterte is one who genuinely feels that the decision is one serious matter that will make or break whatever little time there is left of his political life.

His hesitance is not a political ploy. He does not need it. He is being hounded by it.

As Lavina said, be patient because the mayor is fond of the biblical passage that “there is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under the heavens: a time to be born and a time to die.”

In the meantime, everybody is waiting with bated breathe. But not for long. – Rappler.com

Edwin Espejo contributes to Rappler.

The Youth Empowerment Summit for the Sustainable Development Goals (#YES4SDG) was held on September 12. I arrived without a clue about what I’d bring home from it. I didn’t come representing any organization, but by invitation from a good friend of mine. I came representing myself as a Filipino youth eager to learn and take action.

When the Sustainable Development Goals were enumerated and elaborated upon by Rena Doña, I was inspired by what I learned. For those representing organizations, it was an opportunity to know more about their own and other advocacies, expanding their fields of knowledge as advocates. We were shown how the SDGs are more inclusive and specific compared to the Millennium Development Goals.

Climate change is now part of what the SDGs want to eradicate, along with poverty, world hunger and inequality on all fronts. Some of the things the SDGs want to see flourish are good health, quality education, gender equality, clean water and sanitation, clean and accessible energy, economic growth, peace and justice.

After covering this, the panel discussion took place, spearheaded by Leon Flores III, Daryl Tadique, and Gomer Padong. Our access to social media, allowing us to be more connected and aware, was among the topics brought up. Many of the youth practice online activism, creating hashtags to show solidarity with the Lumads, for example. This activism should be brought to the real world, directly helping these causes we campaign for online. It’s amazing that the event was aimed specifically at us so we’d be aware of and take part in the goals set by the UN.

There is a certain stigma associated with being a youth: people believe that we are only self-absorbed — which is wrong. As the next generation of leaders, we do care. We long to make the world better for our generation, older generations, and generations to come. I believe all the delegates and millions more of the youth will agree with me. 

The open forum took place after the panel discussion. The discussion on the Indigenous peoples and their involvement in the SDGs was opened, which was timely because in the afternoon we heard from Pastor Sonny Dizon representing the Aetas of Iba, Zambales. He shed light on the situation of the Aetas, of their youth and their education, which was necessary because we need to become aware of the different situations of every people in every island and every region, not just the situations that directly affect us.

If we ever have hope of improving our country, we must start by being aware of what goes on around us not just through news, but through connecting with people from all walks of life. One of the SDGs the Philippines needs to work towards is the attainment of quality education, and the Indigenous peoples are no exemptions from this.

In the afternoon, the delegates were divided into smaller groups for the Youth Consultation and Collaboration Planning for SDG. Each group was facilitated by a representative from different organizations: INTEL and ASSIST (topic: Amplifying Youth Organizations’ Digital Presence through Online Volunteerism), VOTY (topic: Communicating Advocacy through Media), AISEC Philippines (topic: Enhancing Global Leadership through Cultural Exchange Programs), and ADB OGP (topic: Youth Participation in Politics and Governance/Open Government Partnership). After, Mr. Jesus Domingo of the Department of Foreign Affairs spoke to us about “Post 2015 Development Diplomacy: Role of DFA in Harmonizing ASEAN Economic Integration with the SDGs and the UN Resilience and Development Agenda” and was followed by Pastor Dizon.

In the end, we delegates brought home meaningful things from the youth summit: new friendships, the reinforcement of our roles as Filipino youth, knowledge on the SDGs, and the drive to see them through, starting in our own nation. For all of us, the #YES4SDG was a call to turn our desire to make the world better into reality.

All participants signed The Manila Declaration for the Sustainable Development Goals, a symbol of our promise to fulfill our obligations as youth leaders to our fellow human beings, especially the most vulnerable, marginalized, and oppressed; to uphold and stand firm behind our advocacies, especially the ones specified in the SDGs; to be unified in our efforts toward genuine global change on all platforms, regardless of who we are or where we come from. 

In the end, the SDG Youth National Convergence was launched, consisting of the youth leaders from different sectors—a sign of our oneness in working towards the SDGs for a better Philippines and a better world.

The summit would have all been for nothing if we don’t see the SDGs through. They are knowledge to be shared with all; they don’t involve just one small community - they involve the entire world. — Rappler.com

Mikhaela Alesna is a freshman BA Philosophy student in UP Diliman who hails from Cebu. She is a space enthusiast, and an aspiring oncologist and writer. She sincerely hopes that the Filipino youth, herself included, rise up to the challenge of working towards a better nation. 

So, what exactly is “Inclusive Mobility”? 

The APEC Transport Ministers have taken up “Inclusive Mobility” as a strategy in their second meeting in Cebu recently. Inclusive mobility has suddenly become a buzzword, especially since it is mentioned in relation to the horrendous traffic that is experienced in Metro Manila and other cities in the Asia-Pacific region. 

The Inclusive Mobility Network, the multi-sectoral coalition of over 20 inclusive mobility organizations and agencies advocating inclusive mobility in the country, has identified ten principles to observe:

1. A transport system that works for the poor and vulnerable. The test for inclusive mobility is not that the average person is mobile, but that even the poor and vulnerable are. If we beam only for the average person, we exclude half of the population!
2. A walkable, bike-able, accessible city. To move the city, every person should be able to carry himself, if not all the way, then part of the way. Everyone who can, must walk, bike, commute, and only as a last resort, take the car.
3. Moving people, not vehicles. Those who have less in wheels, must have more in roads. Efficient and effective public transport must be the backbone of the transport system. 
4. Mobility with safety and civility. Mobility in a highly urbanized and complex city must not sacrifice safety and civility. The dignity and security of human life must be upheld.  
5. Clean air, clean streets, clean vehicles, clean facilities. The sustainability of the transport system must be assured, and this must be evident on the ground, not only in statistics.
6. Planning and communicating better and traveling less. Mobility is accomplishing travel purposes at least travel, cost, and time.  Habitual planning and communicating, individually and collectively, help reduce travel.
7. Sharing information to increase connectivity and accessibility. Navigating through the city requires choosing between alternative paths, modes, and combinations. The more we know the feasible alternatives, the more efficient we travel.  
8. Making our neighborhoods more accessible to the rest of the city. We cannot expect the whole city to be hospitable to our travel intentions, if we keep the city out of our own neighborhoods.
9. Changing mindsets and behaviors – the authorities’ as well as ours.  Inclusive mobility is a set of conditions shaped by human intentions and behaviors – more of ours, and less of the authorities.
10. Mobility of all, by all, for all. We cannot inflict inclusive mobility on the poor and the vulnerable. They must actively and meaningfully participate and own their share of inclusive mobility schemes and initiatives, commensurate to their collective footprint on the streets.

The Inclusive Mobility Network is a broad coalition of inclusive mobility advocates – public transport, non-motorized transport, PWD transport facilities, clean air, road safety, seamless mobility, commuter rights.  It was jumpstarted by the Project entitled “Catalyzing New Mobility in Cities: The Case of Metro Manila” implemented by the Innovation at the Base of the Pyramid in Southeast Asia (iBoP-Asia) Program at the Ateneo School of Government, with support from the Rockefeller Foundation from 2011-2014.

The Inclusive Mobility Network envisions the impact of inclusive mobility to be “a safe, seamless, well-connected, accessible, and user-friendly Metro Manila sustainable urban transport system that works for all Metro Manilans, especially the poor, the vulnerable, the disadvantaged, and the marginalized.” 

In order to attain inclusive mobility, the Inclusive Mobility Network formulated four strategic objectives that together create the operational environment for inclusive mobility. These four objectives are mobility, safety, productivity, and civility.

Mobility

Enhanced Mobility is defined as achieving travel purposes at the least cost, and travel time. The indicators are (1) reduced travel time, (2) reduced passenger-waiting time, (3) reduced volume count, and (4) enhanced quality of travel experience.   

In Metro Manila, the presence of public, formal and informal, transportation hubs and terminals are strategically located in areas readily accessible to commuters such as malls, marketplaces, schools, etc. 

However, the non-motorized transport (NMT) users such as bikers and pedestrians are still struggling to claim their own share in road space. Bike lanes, sidewalks, and other NMT facilities are usually occupied by sidewalk vendors and used as private parking spaces. 

Safety

Enhanced Safety is defined as travelling with least risk of loss of life, limb, and property. The indicators are reduced deaths and injuries on the road, (2) reduced number of vehicular accidents, (3) faster response time to aid road accident victims, and (4) faster response time in clearing roads.    

Productivity 

Enhanced Productivity is defined as generating higher production of goods and services as a result of less travel cost, effort, and time. The indicators are (1) higher occupancy of vehicles, (2) higher ratio of trips using public transport compared to private vehicles, (3) faster delivery of government and private sector services, and (4) lower cost of operating and maintaining transport vehicles and facilities.   

Civility 

Enhanced Civility is defined as having enhanced courtesy, discipline, and contribution to an engaging and encouraging travel and mobility environment. 

The indicators are (1) reduced incidence of road rage and other forms of violence and conflict, (2) reduced incidence of illegal parking as well as reckless and discourteous driving behavior, (3) reduced unnecessary use of horns and wangwang, and (4) reduced negative road behavior such as spitting, jaywalking, littering, smoking, and wearing improper/indecent attire.

Mind shift: Metropolitan governance

The worsening traffic congestion in Metro Manila despite the attempts to improve traffic through enactments, engineering, enforcement, education, environment, and evaluation clearly point to the need to restructure traffic governance as a solution. One possible reform is the designation of a lone government agency to handle all aspects of urban transport management. Transport governance, however, cannot be taken in isolation of other dimensions of metropolitan governance. 

One modality is to provide a strong metropolitan government that builds on the currently weakened structural and functional position of the metropolitan authority (Metropolitan Manila Development Authority) to perform a set of integrated metropolitan services such as transport and traffic management, air pollution and solid waste management, disaster risk reduction and management, flood control, and public order and safety. Such a model is not without precedent.  

The previous Metro Manila Commission and Metro Manila Authority models headed by a governor, requires a rethinking of the decentralization policy enunciated in the Local Government Code as it applies to metropolitan areas such as Metro Manila. This paradigm shift must be given expression in national legislation. Consideration of this initiative must be taken in conjunction with initiatives towards creating new levels of governance, e.g., the Bangsamoro Basic Law, and renewed calls for a federal form of government to accommodate differing circumstances of various regions and cultures in the country. It is time to plan and govern Metro Manila as a single metropolitan entity, not primarily as a concatenation of 17 local government units.

National agenda

The current interest in “Inclusive Mobility” must trigger a mind shift and be translated into specific proposals in the programs of government of political parties and candidates in the upcoming presidential and general elections.  Inclusive mobility in Metro Manila is not a local issue, and should be treated as a critical concern in national governance.  

Clearly, mobility that is designed for the ground up for only the car-riding rich and middle class will continue to be repudiated by the poor through various acts of defiance, including unbridled purchase and deployment of their own motorcycles and undisciplined road behavior. Inclusive mobility is moving people, not vehicles. Moving people is primarily about road-sharing and less of construction of more roads. A city that does not move its people is building towards the equivalent of a heart attack.– Rappler.com

The author delivered this talk at the 10th Annual CE Talk Breakthrough, on October 9, 2015, at the GTE-Toyota Asian Center Auditorium, UP Diliman, Quezon City.

"Sige na, matalino ka na." ("Fine, you're the smart one.")

Heard this before? It's a common response to an original thought in the middle of a typical conversation. All of a sudden, what was supposed to be a casual exchange of ideas is halted, where one person puts up a figurative hand that signals, "No more thinking."

Instead of engaging a person who has something interesting to say, their ideas are perceived as a threat, as if the person were hurling insults instead of stating facts. The offended party feels that the person with a unique thought is making them feel stupid, so if the conversation goes on, they will even say:

"Bobo na ako, sige na." ("So I'm the idiot, okay?")

Why is a meaningful conversation suddenly considered offensive? Why are some people slighted when they don't understand or are unfamiliar with the topic at hand?

Why is it that when we encounter atypical opinions or articles that question the status quo, its comments frequently contain comments that the author is elitist, over-educated, or too analytical? 

Why do we mock critical thought?

Why do we say, "Ang dami mong alam! (You're a know-it-all!)" when we hear someone share a deep thought or provocative question? Why not engage the person and learn? Why do we avoid discussions that require us to think, do our own research, or question beliefs we've long held?

Why do we say, "Nosebleed!" when we hear someone speaking English? Even if English is considered a status symbol, it is still taught in all three levels of education. Why we are proud of our difficulty in understanding or speaking it? Why not just ask the other person to speak Filipino if they can? Why not learn the language if we want to be better at it?

The rise of anti-intellectualism

Anti-intellectualism is defined as the hostility and mistrust of intellectual pursuits. Those who present an atypical way of thinking are othered (perceived as different), deemed a danger to normality, and are considered outsiders with little empathy for the rest of the population.  This is the origin of the idea that those who have alternative opinions or are part of a counterculture are elitist, arrogant, matapobre (anti-poor) and aloof.  

There is a growing trend of shaming those who take the time to learn more and share their knowledge with others. As if intelligence is now a liability and scratching beneath the surface is a negative, invalidating ideas that go against the grain seems to be more common than being intrigued enough to look further. We ostracize those who think outside the box and say, "Ikaw na ang magaling!" ("Aren't you the great one?")

Instead of mocking someone for using a word we don't know or for asking a question we never thought of, why not look up concepts that are foreign to us, instead of dismissing them as unnecessary and saying, "Wow, deep!"  Why not ask about a new concept that leaves us stumped instead of mocking its origin or sarcastically saying, "Eh di wow!" 

No limit to information

Regardless of one's financial background, there is no better time than the present to learn about any topic or skill. With free and open access to unlimited information online, there is hardly any excuse to remain complacent about knowledge. But instead this time is spent on putting down the person who is actually curious enough to learn.

I understand the lack of hope that furthering one's knowledge will actually lead anywhere. It is easy to accept that only the powerful have access to the wisdom of the world and that it's better to not want more than what is attainable.

But that would be acting as if only the elite have the right to speak, think, discuss, question, or use a foreign tongue. This kind of thinking relegates those who perceive their social status as lower to a state of apathy and complacency. It conditions them to believe that the use of the English language, critical thought, and intellectual discussions are only for those who are rich. How scary is that?

Dangerous sentiment

It's a dangerous sentiment to leave the thinking and philosophizing to those who have economic power. It's detrimental to society to be complacent in our contentment and to think that resisting, protesting, or even questioning long-held beliefs and rules is not every person's duty. 

Instead we say, "Oo na, edukada ka na!" (Fine! You're the educated one!)," as if speaking wisely were the same as showing off, that those who do have unconventional ideas only seek to rub it in other people's faces, and that education is the enemy, instead of the savior.

In history, anti-intellectualism has been used as a tool by extreme dictatorships to establish themselves and to paint educated people as a threat because they question social norms and question established opinion. In the 1970s, Cambodia's Khmer Rouge executed civilians with more than an elementary education, particularly those who wore glasses because it suggested literacy.

Locally, the rounding up of thinkers and those who presented alternative ideas was done en masse during martial law – a common practice in authoritarian political movements where intellectuals are deemed unpatriotic and subversive and must be removed.

The sentiment that to be wise, curious, and analytical is somehow elitist and harmful causes entire populations to become easy to lead. When intelligence is considered shameful, it favors a blind follower's mindset where being part of a pack that doesn't question motives is preferred.

Intellectual freedom is scary 

Freedom - especially intellectual freedom - is scary. Those who are frustrated in democracies like ours may find that it is easier to be told what to think and feel and do, instead of deliberating within ourselves who our leaders should be and what we want for our nation. 

It is easy to think that any kind of intelligent discourse is elitist and unnecessary so we won't have to question things we might blindly adhere to, lest we determine that the truths we hold on to are false. 

If not for the thinkers - those who are in a state of constant curiosity, the seeking of knowledge, information, and answers - we would not be here. All of our heroes, from Ninoy to Rizal, were men who loved books and sought knowledge. They were both ostracized and killed for their thoughts. In both instances these great thinkers were murdered by those who are only too happy when majority of the population views intelligence as a fault.

Foster curiosity, don't discourage it

When independent thought is extinguished, we are much easier to lead as a pack and we are quick to follow a leader we trust knows better, but may not have our best interests in mind.

Aside from fostering our own curiosity, we need to expect more from our children. We need to teach them to always be inquisitive, and to not be satisfied until they come up with answers of their own. Don't allow them to believe that things are so "just because." Don't stop their search for answers by saying, "Basta, ang kulit mo ha." (That's it, you're annoying.), but instead find the answers with them. Be excited to learn as well.

Children follow what they see, and if they notice you are threatened by knowledge or discouraged to learn, they will feel the same way and not seek it for themselves. 

Let's quit the smart-shaming and instead encourage intelligent conversation. If it makes us insecure to be unfamiliar with topics and concepts, remember that it's as easy looking them up online and asking questions to enlighten ourselves, instead of believing that knowledge is this scary thing meant for other people. It truly is there for everyone's taking.

Thomas Edison once said, "Restlessness is discontent and discontent is the first necessity of progress." If we are always content with what we are given and refuse to ask questions - and if we condemn those who actually do -  then we accept our step backward while everyone else leaves us behind. Our failure then becomes no one's fault but our own. – Rappler.com

Predictably a lot of people went crazy when Senator Miriam Santiago announced that her running mate is Senator Bongbong Marcos. 

Social media exploded with people proclaiming their frustration: Why, Senator Miriam, why? – complete with the hashtag ‪#‎neveragain‬. 

The answer is simple, provided that you have the intellectual capacity and the maturity to look at it objectively.

Senator Santiago chose Senator Marcos for the simple reason that he has proven to possess the qualities that she values the most. Situate the analysis of his accomplishments in a vacuum and assess it objectively. Take a look at but a small sample of what he has done in the 16th Congress alone. 

Name another legislator who has pushed forward a bill to provide affordable housing to lower income and lower-middle income households in urban areas (SB 423: Department of Housing and Urban Development Act of 2013).

Who was the author of the bill (SB 422) that sought to provide protection, rehabilitation, and reintegration for children in conflict areas? 

Who was the author of the bill (SB 409) that aimed to cultivate a globally competitive soybean industry here in the Philippines – a soybean industry that could take advantage of the growing demand for soy and soy based products both here and abroad? 

Guess who authored a bill (SB 408) that was designed to secure funding and support for hydrogen research and development here in the Philippines – a tacit recognition of the potential uses of hydrogen in the near future.

How about the First Class Public Schools and Libraries Act, The National Mariculture Act, The Teachers Education Act, and the Public School Teachers' Salary Upgrading Act? 

Wait, there's more. Who were the senators who said no in the patently rigged trial of Corona? Who were the three senators who staunchly defended their position with a demonstration of their mastery of the law?

Recently deceased Senator Joker Arroyo, Senator Miriam Santiago, and...?

Also, who crafted the constitutionally sound alternative to the Bangsamoro Basic Law (BBL)? 

All BBM. 

Every other vice-presidential candidate will be hard pressed to match Senator Marcos in terms of sheer legislative output and acumen, experience in local governance, and scope and breadth of governance platform. 

And you wonder why Senator Santiago chose him. 

Basically, most any argument that would be hurled against Senator Marcos would be ad hominem. Given that any discussion, any comparison of vice-presidential candidates on the basis of qualifications would be decidedly in his favor. Again, and you wonder why Senator Santiago chose him.

(For anyone who wants to argue that Senator Santiago should have chosen Senator Trillanes, please refer to my tweets at @IAmDavidYapII.)

Now the real question is this: Why are you against Senator Marcos? 

Let's preface the discussion with the hashtag #neveragain. What does this mean? It's not a complete sentence. It's a phrase. Let's fill in the blanks.

Perhaps it is never again to Martial Law. Given the present configuration of the Philippine government, the dynamics of political power, and the political landscape, any president will be hard pressed to declare martial law. (LOL if you think a vice-president not named Francis Underwood can declare martial law.)

Perhaps it is never again to corruption. Let's define corruption as the use of government resources for personal gain (which is of course the standard definition, and the definition that encompasses more than just plunder). Who again was the president who leveraged the power of government to insulate a large tract of land from agrarian reform?

Maybe, it is never again to cronyism. Take a good hard look at how the spoils of EDSA were divided to a select few families. 

Maybe it is never again to suppression of free speech. Who was the first president to file a case against a journalist for libel – over an article that contained a metaphor? Which country (not presently a war zone) is the worst country for journalists?

Maybe it is never again to human rights abuses. Remember the Mendiola Massacre? How about the continued maltreatment of farmers in Hacienda Luisita? How about something more recent  how about the tens of thousands of families living in squalor in Yolanda-ravaged regions?

At this point some of you might be raring to retort with something along the lines of: "The corruption, cronyism, and human rights abuses were much worse in the Marcos administration."

Save it. If that is your argument then you aren't truly against corruption. You aren't truly against cronyism. You aren't truly against human rights abuses. If you are going to quibble over the scale of a crime – and basically tell me that one scale is acceptable and one scale is not then you are only paying lip service to principles. 

Where is your outrage over the rampant corruption during and after the first Aquino administration? Where is your outrage over the cronyism that has only gotten worse over the past three decades? Where is your outrage over the human rights abuses of the past 30 years?

While we are in the topic of blaming descendants for the sins of their ancestors – why aren't you calling out Noynoy Aquino for the role his ancestor played in World War II? You didn't say #neveragain when Noynoy Aquino ran for president. So what exactly are you saying never again to?

You are saying never again to a Marcos. You are not going to vote for BBM simply because he is a Marcos. Your vote was not decided on the basis of qualifications – it was decided by last name recall.

How then are you different from someone who would vote for a Binay just because he is a Binay? How then are you different from someone who would vote for Grace Poe just because she is the daughter of Fernando Poe? 

My point is this: Anyone who is vehemently against Senator Marcos, just because of his last name, is no longer looking purely at qualifications.

If you use any form of ad hominem argument – if you veer away from a discussion centered on issues, qualifications, and platforms, then you cannot call out people as uneducated voters. Put simply, if the last name of a candidate is your sole metric for your judgment, then you are, by definition, an uneducated voter.  – Rappler.com

David B. Yap II is a magna cum laude graduate of the University of the Philippines School of Statistics. He is finishing his PhD in Economics at the Ateneo De Manila University, where he teaches. He also worked as an economist at the AIM Policy Center, where he was responsible for the development of the first comprehensive mapping of political dynasties in the Philippines.