SABBATICAL NOTES. 22 JUNE 2014. SUNDAY. N2.
Gardemet sanababits. Gardemet sanabagan.
IN THE ILOCOS OF old, when life was better, when things were simpler, and when politicians were also corrupt but not that corrupt--or, perhaps, I am naive?--to have courage to rage was honorable.
To be able to express one's anger was something people looked forward to, and in their songs and in their community performances, we saw this sense of the authentic among the Ilokano people, the sense of some sense, and the sense of no-nonsense.
Life was real.
And our rage too.
Feelings were real, and these were investments in human relationships, and the return on investment could be smooth, high stakes, the rate up there in the skies, heavenly, sacred, and honorable.
Gone are the days of old.
Now, we have politicians who think of Ilocos and beyond are their fiefdom--their possession, their private property, God's gift to them.
As in the Ilocos so shall the Philippines.
As in the Ilocos so shall Cavite, Manila, the Senate, the Lower House, and other agencies of the polity.
Now, we have intellectuals who are lending their hand to prop up these politicians, intellectuals who should have the daring to use the grey matter between their ears, but no, they assist those in power, and they glory in their act of assisting them, convincing themselves that what they do is for the good of the public, the people, the citizenry, the homeland.
Those in that groups should include those who think of 'manufacturing images' to hide the fact that the one being imaged--the represented (or, is it misrepresented?) is simply rotten, as he is afraid of roaches and rats, even if he has already sold his soul to the highest bidder.
That highest bidder is the Devil incarnate, both material and a shadow.
Now, we have social media professionals who can think of citing from the Bible to justify what cannot be justified at all.
In doing this, they try to establish that insubstantial parallelism between the Messiah the Redeemer and that other Irredeemable Guy who dreams of leading a wretched people and an equally wretched land to salvation.
Our hopes are running low.
The spring is about to go dry.
The well is a parched earth.
The source of our patience is now a sinkhole.
On Monday, another one of those who made it sure they live the good life is joining that other one who hates roasted liempo and instead eats leche flan (has the poor ever tasted this in their lifetime?) and chicken stew soured with tamarind.
That other guy will use the power of manufacturing truth so he could manufacture consent (a la Herman's and Chomsky's analysis of American media) by the same power of false images.
And the plain power of acting.
Because of this, let us say what the Ilokanos of old would say when their raged took hold of their days.
Felipenas/21 Jun 2014