We Need a Doctor, Not an Executioner

Edmundo lee, a friend of mine, wrote about a woman who was recently killed for having robbed several houses in a neighbourhood in Catarman, Samar, Philippines. He then proceeded to ask:

Does championing change have to mean death for wrongdoers who could be rehabilitated? What warrants death, and why do we take it upon ourselves to decide who dies? Who the fuck do we think we are?

It is malcontent that drives people to clamour for extreme measures. They are tired of the social system in place and the sluggish speed at which justice is served if due process is to be followed. People draw inspiration from divergent societies that elect to take justice into their own hands rather than rely on the courts and spend what probably feels like an agonising eternity of waiting for a decision to be arrived at. From a sociological point of view, they are doing this because they feel that they are in an extreme situation.

Let's examine historical cases of extremes:

When Poland left the clutches of the Soviet hegemony that imposed a violent Leninist and Stalinist brand of purely materialistic communism, they gradually took an acute shift into what it is today--a very right-wing nation that has removed the right of a woman to make decisions for her own body and has a Foreign Affairs Minister, Witold Waszczykowski, who dismisses vegetarianism and the usage of bicycles as socialist habits! They struggled to rise from the fire but have ended up causing themselves to freeze half to death. This is still happening right now.

As a result of Spain's long and violent struggle against its monarchy, they ended up with a totalitarian dictatorship under General Francisco Franco. Guess how well that turned out. The violence only ended with the return of the monarchy where the new ruling king took it upon himself to overhaul the country--seeking the people's help in turning it into a constitutional monarchy with an elected parliament.

The Buddha left a life of wealth and luxury when he felt that it was not giving him true happiness. He shifted to one of severe austerity and allowed himself to be reduced to an emaciated mendicant, which nearly killed him. He left this life, too and later learned where the balance was. There, he found happiness.

If history teaches us anything, it's that jumping from one extreme to another only tips the scale the other way. It does not create balance at all. So, yes, the people clamouring for such extreme changes to the way our society works have their reasons, but their experiences do not, in any way, justify slaying our democracy and refusing to honour each person's basic human right to live. Retribution and violence are means to an end. True. But they are NOT ways to bring about justice. They are lazy short-term solutions that will not cure our social illnesses. Our country needs a doctor, not an executioner.

Remember:  One does not stop a disease outbreak by killing the afflicted.

So I Should Be Killed for Thinking Differently?

A few days ago, I was sitting alone at a coffee shop when I spotted an old acquaintance who was, for years, a vehement opponent of the Philippine Reproductive Health Bill before it became a law. Her reason? She feared that it would become a precursor to the legalisation of abortion in the country and, to her, that was unacceptable because she said she honoured the sanctity of human life. I then noticed she was wearing a Duterte wristband. See the irony there?

I approached her with a greeting and after less than a minute of pleasantries, she said, "Duterte ta ha? (Let's go with Duterte, ok?)" I hummed a deep note and smiled. She then went on a three-minute speech about how she admires the fact that her choice for a president has "eliminated the scum off the streets of Davao City" and it would make her happy to see the same thing happen on a nation-wide scale. "Kinahanglan hinlo-an na ni'ng Pilipinas kay hugaw na kaayo. Angay na pamatyon ni'ng mga kriminal. Ang di mobotar ni Duterte, angay apilon! (The Philippines needs to be cleansed because it has become too dirty. These criminals should be killed off already. Those who don't vote for Duterte should be killed, too!)" In response, I nodded slowly and gave her a sarcastic giggle. I asked who her choice was for the vice-presidency, to which she quickly responded, "Aw, Marcos jud. Wa na'y lai'ng puede. (Marcos, of course. No one else will do.)"

Every single thing that came out of her mouth made my skin crawl in utter disgust that I had to excuse myself. I stood up, cleaned my side of the table and picked my bag up. But just before I walked away, I asked her, "Hey, weren't you against the RH Bill a few years ago because you said you honoured the sanctity of human life?" Her mouth opened, presumably to respond, but there were no words. A faint "ha" sound came out, punctuated by a glottal stop, a clearing of the throat and a gulp. She could not answer me. She clenched her jaw and furrowed her eyebrows as her breaths got audibly deeper. Still nothing but disdainful and bitter silence. I gave her another smile and left.

I am pro-choice--a staunch supporter of the recognition of a woman's right to make decisions for her own body--so that disqualifies me from carrying the label "pro-life," as it is conventionally understood. With the Reproductive Health (RH) Bill being a hot national issue some years ago, I made lots of enemies--mostly from evangelical Christian and conservative Roman Catholic circles. In 2012, I embarked on an "unfriending spree" for people who were against the RH Bill. I regarded everyone who didn't support it as stupid. I ended my spree, however, when I realised that too many people close to my heart didn't share my views. If I had chosen to continue it, I would have lost lots of friends, so I decided that these people were misinformed, at best, and left them alone. Then again, if I had gone on, that woman I bumped into at Bo's Coffee Club would have been kicked out of my social media sphere sooner. Thankfully, what was supposed to happen four years ago eventually caught up and our association has finally been severed. The evening thereafter, she unfriended me on Facebook. Good riddance!

Again, I respect people's choices, but to insinuate that I should be killed just because my opinions differ from yours? Honey, you don't deserve me in your life and I certainly don't deserve you in mine.

Elections and Friendships

BINISAYA:

Pinili-ay og Panaghigala

Nag-anam-anam na og kaduol ang adlaw sa pinili-ay.
Daghan na kaayo'ng mga panaghigala
Ang nabungkag tungod sa kalainan sa baruganan
Ug mga kandidato'ng gidapigan.

Ang kadaugan sa atong mga manok,
Labaw pa ba g'yud og bili sa panagsu-on
Nga pila na ka-tuig gi-amumahan?

Masayon-sayon ra diay og gubâ
Pinaagi sa bulok sa atong mga baklaw
Ug sa mga hulagway nga gipatapot
Sa likod sa atong mga sakyanan?

Dili ba diay malungtaron
Ang gugma sa matuod nga higala?

Nangabuang na ta'ng tanan?
Mangligid sâ uroy ta sa Banat-i
Ug magpapaak og iring!



ENGLISH:

Elections and Friendships

The day of elections is drawing nearer and nearer.
Too many friendships
Have been shattered by differences in principles
And candidates we support.

Are the victories of our chickens
Of greater value than the bonds
That we have spent years to nurture?

Can they so easily be destroyed
By the colours of our bracelets
And the faces on bumper stickers
On the back of our cars?

Is it not resilient,
The love of a true friend?

Have we all become fools?
Let's roll down Banat-i Hill
And have cats bite us!

On Blaming and Putting Down Millennials

I wonder what today's non-millennial grown-ups were called back when they were younger and were considered the ultimate cause of their days' social problems. I wonder if some older people are thankful for the evanescence of youth and are being consciously vindictive towards millennials because of the hangups they have from the past. I wonder if they are telling their parents, "See this, ma/pa? You thought I was the problem? Get a load of today's generation of youngsters!"

It's funny how lots of older grown-ups constantly rely on the proverbial rhetoric,"You are the future," and yet enjoy laying so much blame on us for things like the purported slackening of society's moral fabric, whatever that means. When has this so-called "moral fabric" ever been stiff and impervious, anyway? Isn't the point of calling it a fabric because it's permeable and adaptable? Didn't mores develop over time rather than spring up out of nowhere? Even the Tanakh, the Bible, the Qur'an, the Pali Canon and the Vedas were written. Divinely-inspired (yeah, ok) but written, nonetheless.

Why are we so uptight about preserving what's familiar and normal to us? Why are we so keen to label divergence from social conventions as wrong or evil? Did you know that polyphonic music was banned from the Roman Catholic Church in 1322 for being too innovative? Did you know that before 1600, Roman clerics appealed to ban coffee? Yes, that's right. In the 14th century, what today is considered the music of the culturally refined was deemed impious and lascivious. In the late 1500's, coffee was almost dogmatically forbidden from consumption by Christians as it was regarded as a Muslim drink. What if the church had persisted in their crusades against these wonderful things? Claudio Monteverdi's Vesperis in Festis Beata Mariae Vergine would have never been composed. Cappuccino would have never been invented and that Starbucks two blocks away from your flat wouldn't even exist.

Remember that normalcy is an illusion. As Morticia Addams once said, "What's normal to the spider is a calamity to the fly." I'm well aware that there are certain limits to what we can change or keep, but cut us some slack; we're all just trying to find our place in this world, just like you (older grown-ups) probably were when you were our age--back when you were the ones ripping society's moral fabric to pieces and giving adults massive headaches.

Call a Spade a Spade but FCKH8

Call a spade a spade. Call an act of evil what it is and condemn it. Don't condemn the person. The person may just be a blind and ignorant victim of circumstances. I'm not going to condemn and hate Duterte for his misogynistic jokes (about rape, nonetheless) and sheer acts of violence. Maybe his parents didn't raise him very well. Maybe he didn't grow up in an ideal environment. Maybe he had bad teachers. Maybe he was exposed to several negative influencing factors throughout his life. Who knows? But I'm done with hate; it doesn't help. It only turns me into the object of my abhorrence. It makes me weak, emotional, illogical and irrational.

With all that said, though, even if I don't hate Duterte, he is not getting my vote. Elections are an exercise of people's personal choices and I'm absolutely and vehemently certain that Rodrigo Duterte is not my choice for the highest political position in the Republic of the Philippines. If he's yours, so be it. That's your right and it's not my place to tell you what to do. I may judge you for it and maybe our friendship will deminish to a certain extent if you're heavily and fanatically into him, but, ultimately, I have no right to interfere with your decisions. You have your reasons and I have mine, so don't tell me what to do either.

May peace prevail in the Philippines.

May peace prevail on Earth.

Bohol Climate Walk: 100 Kilometers and Beyond

At Plaza Rizal after reading our call, before hitting the road--before any injuries

At around 2AM on Saturday, November 28^th, 2015, I crawled into my sleeping bag, pulled the mosquito net over my head, closed my eyes and lulled myself to sleep with images of a bright morning and an energetic me, all while chanting the mantra “Goodness, please take this pain away” and unknowingly muttering “mama” every five seconds or so.

Earlier that day, 11 of us embarked on a 100-kilometer walk from Tagbilaran to Anda to show solidarity with the People’s Pilgrimage from Rome to Paris, helping raise awareness on efforts to uphold global climate justice. We were joined by two pilgrims along the way and lost one who had to attend to fatherly duties. About 20 kilometers, over 7 hours and a litany of prayers and expletives later, 12 of us made it to a hut in a mangrove forest in Loay, Bohol, the first of two evening stops for the Bohol Climate Walk.

I made the commitment to write about this experience but I’ve ended up postponing it over and over again because I’m stumped about where to begin. I don’t want to turn this into a long blow-by-blow about what happened from Friday through Monday as that’s just not how I write. This morning, though, as I was about to take my thought-filled shower, seconds after getting up from bed, I was greeted by a throbbing feeling in my calf. It was an electric sort of pain that felt so damn fresh—just as it felt when I woke up in Anda last Monday, merely hours after completing the walk. It was a lightbulb moment that made me decide I’m going to start by writing about pain.

This didn’t only happen today. I had a similar episode yesterday and all the mornings since and during the walk, but today it was exceptionally strong. I guess it’s because I went back to Anda yesterday to go swimming—remedying the frustration I had from last Monday when we had to leave too early and I only spent less than ten minutes in the water. Nevertheless, this series of daily pangs has, on more than one occasion, led me to worry that this might be permanent. A friend and fellow climate walker from Negros Island, April, has pains from badly sprained and wounded feet. She Couchsurfed in my home for a few days, and nearly every morning since returning to the city, she said something like, “What if this pain never goes away?” I thought, “Perhaps this is the universe’s way of reminding us that the work towards achieving global climate justice is far from over.” You know how they say it’s an honor when a friend shares their pain with you and how we should consider ourselves lucky for the ability to empathize? Is this pain a sign that the Earth is sharing her pain with me? Should I feel honored about waking up each morning knowing I’ll be walking everywhere with this perpetual cramp-like feeling because I’m doing the Earth some sort of favor? Well, that sounds rather pompous, doesn’t it?

Single file moving out of Dimiao, full from lunch

A few weeks ago, while the walk was still being organized and I was whining to myself about how I hadn’t taken measures to make myself physically fit for it, I remembered something I read several years ago entitled “Steps Toward Inner Peace.”  It was a transcript of a conversation between a Los Angeles-based radio show and an elderly woman called Peace Pilgrim, who abandoned all her earthly belongings, changed her name, and walked across the United States of America for 28 years to call attention to the need for peace and global reconciliation. She began walking at the age of 45. “Surely,” I thought, “If she walked over 40,000 kilometers for 28 years, I could manage a meager hundred over three days.” While I couldn’t commit my whole life to walking as Peace Pilgrim did, perhaps making a bit of noise with 18 other walkers was a decent attempt at drawing attention to the concerns we all have for our common home. It’s also a way to show the world that a few people are capable of emerging from their chairs and doing something beyond sharing and liking—not that there’s anything wrong with that.

Over the course of three days, water, mefenamic acid, stick-on pain relievers (Salonpas), word games, and expletives became our best friends. You see, if you walk under the scorching sun with a ground temperature of about 30 Degrees Celsius for days on end, while carrying a huge backpack, it doesn’t matter how passionate you are about a cause, there will be profanity—in huge bulks at a time—especially when you feel like you’ve been walking 30 kilometers and the next yellow marker says it’s only been 17. Throw in some existential questions here and there, and it’s a proper party. On our second day of walking, from our lunch stop in Dimiao to our second evening stop in Garcia Hernandez, while I was quietly chanting “Forces of the Earth, help me,” I heard someone ask “Why are we really here?” To which someone promptly responded, “For climate justice.” She retorted, “No, I mean why are we really alive?” An eerie silence followed, paving the way for some deep contemplation. That wasn’t the only question thrown around. There were others like, “Who am I doing all I’m doing for?” and “What else is there to life but pain and suffering?”

By the third day, the last and longest stretch in the entire walk, a few of us had gotten bored with taking our word games seriously that we found solace in mocking them. Any prudish sensitivities on day one had been completely destroyed by then and every expletive we could think of was blurted out. This wonderfully proved, at least for me and the small bunch of people I walked with on the first half of day three, that the research by Keele University on the hypoalgesic effect of swearing is true beyond reasonable doubt. I can’t count the number of times I heard people say “F*ck climate change!” And I agree with it. Not the climate justice movement, of course, but the things that are causing climate change to happen and its subsequent effects. What sort of human being appreciates global hunger, mass extinction of species, and frequent category 5 tropical cyclones?

I’m sure none of us could have made it through that long and painful walk without holding on to anything dear or feeling connected to something bigger than ourselves. For all of us, it was the need to raise awareness that our common home—our only home—is being threatened and we need to protect it. And yet, for some of us who needed an extra push or a spike to our water, the thought of walking in solidarity with refugees helped a great deal. One walker named Dexter helped us visualize, while we were in an almost pitch-black road stretch with no houses or street lights, the plight of the people fleeing Syria in search of a new home, towing babies and belongings crossing countries and encountering unnecessary hostility along the way. How utterly convenient were our circumstances compared to theirs? At least we had a choice. We could have said “no more” at any time. We could have just flagged a yellow bus and headed back to the city with nothing but a mildly bruised ego. What's that compared to the imminent death refugees would face if they were to cut their stride midway? I felt I owed it to myself to allow my body to taste a tiny bit of what they continue to go through to this day—the Syrians, Iraquis, Rohingya, Eritreans and others. They leave their homes to look for other places on Earth that might be more welcoming. And at least today there are still real patches of green and oases here and there. Let us not await the day that these things will be nothing but metaphors and memories. Let us not await the day the Earth will cease to welcome us.

Buko break by the Loay-Lila border

Hitting the white sands of Anda’s Quinale Beach at 1:22AM, the eight of us who walked the last stretch were high as kites from the natural painkillers our bodies had released for us. My legs were so badly beaten that they were almost completely numb. I knew my calves were forty steps away from bursting into bloody bits of tenderized lean muscle but I somehow felt fine. After the obligatory fits of screaming and swearing, we officially ended the 3-day walk with a small interfaith circle where we held each other’s hands and savored a moment of silence to celebrate our feat and to hold our cause in our thoughts. While there were sighs of relief that we had finally finished our self-imposed ordeal, I felt that there was a collective acknowledgement that this was not the end. The real climate walk had only just begun.

As I write this, the pain continues to throb. Since I sat down to hammer on my keyboard, I have stood up thrice to stretch my legs and keep them from becoming difficult to walk with. Nobody was spared. Some have sprains; some have cuts; some have blistered feet; and some even have chafed bikini lines. People ask, “was it worth it?” Of course it was! And having to live several more days with this pain as a reminder of what I did is a reward compared to what I would experience if I continue to remain blind to Earth’s plight. I know (and hope) this pain will go away sooner or later but our work isn’t over until the justice we seek is achieved—until humanity comes to terms with the fact that we don’t have another Earth and we are doing things that are causing it to kill us.

I had a conversation with April long before the Bohol Climate Walk was cooked up and we both agreed that the Earth could kick humanity out if it wants to. Moreover, it will always find a way to heal itself no matter how irreparably damaged and barren it may look like. We don’t say we must take care of the Earth so baobab trees can live through the next three millennia in their towering majesty or so that Mt. Fuji will remain pretty. We say we need to take care of the Earth because we want it to be livable for future generations of humans to come. We're doing this for us. It is we who need saving because our survival as a species is at stake in all this.

By getting hurt during the walk, I was reminded of where the pain would end up if humanity continues to allow irresponsible capitalism and greed to reign. When the body gets infected by a virus, its immune system does things to deactivate or eliminate it. Right now we are collectively behaving like a virus and our planet is trying to cure itself by killing us. And, make no mistake about it: if we don't change for the better, we will perish. But it's not too late. We can still make a full U-turn and start contributing to an alternative solution that doesn't involve the extinction of the Homo sapiens.

Let us not wait for another Haiyan or Ebola pandemic. The time to act is now. Make some noise. Lobby your legislative body to adopt ethical and environment-friendly measures. Say no to coal and nuclear, and say yes only to renewable energy sources. Refuse single-use plastics in favor of reusable ones. Put that candy wrapper in your pocket. Big or small, each voice and each action taken contributes to the global effort. One day, your great, great, great granddaughter will celebrate her seventh birthday in a rich meadow with fresh air and butterflies dancing in the breeze. She will have a smile on her face, free from fear and hate. Such a wonderful thought, right? It can only happen if we stand up now to restore justice for the Earth and all living beings.  L

Thanks galore:  To the Bohol Outdoor Adventure Team (BOAT) for the planning, prep, and walk support. To Bohol Goodwill Volunteers, Inc. for some of the meals. To Mr. Marjune Placencia and Ms. Beryl Lupot for helping us cope with our injuries. To Mr. James Mahinay and family for arranging our dinner and stay in Loay. To Mayor Rina Salazar for the rescue in Lila. To Mr. Joel Dahiroc and Mrs. Cherry Dahiroc for opening your doors to us in Dimiao and for the awesome lunch. To Dr. Edna Villaruel and Mrs. Aleth Jeanjaquet for welcoming us, feeding us with a wonderful dinner, and giving us cozy beds to rest on before our final stretch—also to Mr. Richard “Yahman” Jeanjaquet for arranging our stay and meal at such short notice. To Dr. Joanne Flores and Ms. Rain Calimbayan for the refreshments. To Mr. Robin Gurney of Coco Loco Café in Anda for the wonderful breakfast after our walk. To Ms. Kim Lim-Adams of Dapdap Beach for welcoming us in Anda and cheering on us throughout the walk. To Ms. Jhacky Curambao for the beautiful little post-walk tokens. To everyone who supported us.

The walk finishers shortly after reaching Anda at 1:22 AM on Monday, 30 November 2015
L-R: Jammy, Kins, Ludwig, April, Sherwin, Liza, Yahman, Weng

Get to know us, walk with us, and follow our strides here: facebook.com/bagtaslunhaw


Most of this entry's text appears as it is published on the December 6, 2015 issue of Lifestyle Bohol of the Bohol Chronicle.

a few thoughts on religiously-motivated violence

The first thing that comes to mind when I think of religiously motivated violence is that it's an excuse to advance a group's political agenda. It has always been my interpretation of the actions of groups in the southern part of the Philippines who scream "return Mindanao to the Muslims!" when they kill people, even their fellow Muslims who don't accept their principles and support their cause. This example happening very close to me has been scrutinised time and time again by political analysts and sociological researchers and they almost always come up with the same answers. However, coming from another research perspective, I believe this repetitive finding is a little biased and it is driven by a pursuit for political correctness

Someone I know once said that sometimes we have to accept that some perpetrators of religiously motivated violence are actually driven by religion. And this is quite possibly true. We might say that theirs is an extremist, fanatic, fundamentalist and depraved interpretation of religious scrupture, but it is of religious nature nonetheless. This is perhaps something that we have to accept. Of course, the extremist wing is not monolithic and we cannot make one analysis that will define all groups but we cannot discount the idea that some of these people are actually sincere and deeply misguided and that they actually believe their acts are sanctioned by God. Of course, we cannot blame other people who practice their faiths in peace when they disown these perpetrators. For example, I, as a Quaker, as a Christian would denounce as heavily un-Christian the Anti-Balaka movement (a Christian militia formed in the Central African Republic who forcibly convert Muslims to Christianity or kill them), the Ku Klux Klan and the Westboro Baptist Church. These groups have perpetrated violence against people in the name of Christ just as ISIS and al-Qaeda commit violence in the name of God. Another example is the 969 Movement of Burma (an extremist Buddhist group composed of lay men and monks dedicated to preserving Buddhist ethnic and religious purity by committing murder in the guise of spreading Buddhist principles, they are one of the groups committing violence against the Rohingya people). And then there's the Kahane Chai (a Jewish purist group that murders non-Jews in Israel and Palestine to advance Zionist principles).

I must say that even if extremism in the name of Islam is to be condemned, I believe it is unfair that it is the only kind that receives world-wide attention. There are also groups claiming to be Christians, Buddhists, Jews, Hindus and other faiths who are worthy of our condemnation. The attention solely and almost exclusively on ISIS, al-Qaeda, Boko Haram and such groups who scream "Allahu Akbar" for the wrong reasons has caused the misinformed chunk of the human population to develop an aversion to those who practice real, peaceful Islam that is truly devoted to God.

Religiously motivated violence is a thorn in our feet and to say that it is causing us inconvenience is a major understatement. It not only creates widows and orphans and broken spirits, it also causes those who live by true and peaceful faith to be mistaken for the perpetrators and to be treated with disdain on the basis of the way they communicate with the Divine, and at times by extension, their ethnicity. However, hope is not lost. As I said in my most recent essay expressing my pain about the shootings in France, the bombings in Lebanon and Iraq, and the ongoing violence in Syria, as long as groups that believe in peace exist, or as long as there is a single person in this world who truly believes in peace and walks the path of genuine love and kindness and compassion, there is hope that all this violence will end.