Even after almost twelve years of trifling in the field of politics - invariably as “know-it-all” political officer, pretentious bureaucrat, “scapegoated sulsultant” , shady wonk, or plain kibitzer, Philippine political praxis – both national and local – never fails to shock me. Moral atrophy never fully overpowered me, a thing I treasure as one of the best things that happened – or did not happen – to me. Inversely, even if I was still “part of the system”, some friends would occasionally express their surprise at how differently I view things. “Ganyan ka pala mag-isip, ano ngayon ang gusto mong mangyari?” says a local politician I once admire a lot. Thanks for the question. It served as a wake up call from a slumber that was slowly robbing me of my honor and self-respect. Making a radical paradigm shift was made easier. Partly, for the good of my soul.
And partly, for the good of my country. Outside the penumbra of politics, I could freely speak out my mind, my rage and my hopes. As a modest share in building a nation.
Our political practice made power a supreme, if not absolute, value. Money is the necessary cog, motive and reward in the pursuit of power. And so also is the “pangalan” (reputation). I am still scandalized at how once decent men and women could be so blinded with the consuming desire to win an election. Without knowing it, they were already possessed by the obsession to corner the votes. Suddenly, everything – marriage, family, “friendship”, membership in organizations, public office, projects, budgets, civic and religious activities, etc. – are seen as means to the great end: Power. People are seen as voters, seldom as human beings. Assistance extended – financial or otherwise – are cash advances for the beneficiaries' vote during the next elections.
It is easy to blame the voters themselves for the state of decadence of our political culture. They get the kind of officials they deserve, and they have no reason to complain because they had already been paid, politicians say. Or, is it the churches, or the academe, for their failure to evangelize the masses or educate the youth? Perhaps, it is the family that failed to inculcate in the children a solid and unshakable foundation of honesty, integrity, peace and justice? “Human rights” lawyers – a redundancy because every lawyer, by their oath, should be human rights lawyers – who became politicians, bewail the absurdity of insisting on the “moral and right thing to do” during elections, as taught by Holy Mother the Church. The “right thing” assures nothing, except for aspirants to transform with certainty into lame duck politicians the day after.
Thus, people upon whom we reposed some hopes that somehow, with their courageous participation in a stinking political exercise, could make a difference, end up dancing with the music. Some commentaries, with patronizing compassion, refer to them as “victims”. It is the system that compelled them to do corrupt acts and make corrupt decisions, otherwise, they are actually decent men and women. The reasoning is tragic, no, tragically comic. An elementary pupil could figure it out. Bumenta na yan.
But the painful dilemma remains. And a very real one. The virus is all-consuming that it does not spare even those who underwent more rigid religious or academic formation. Our political praxis, it seems, is a world where only the rogues, the gangsters, the violent, the deceivers, the thieves, the vote-buyers, and the kapal-muks could survive. Some decent ones who were misled to venture into that world – often with pure intentions - were transformed by the virus in no time, and became as rabid as the others. Sometimes, more rabid.
God, wake me up from this very bad dream.
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