Sitting down to write this piece is one of my hardest experiences as a writer. Because of the positive response to my first ever Tagalog commentary, I was in a dilemma whether to write in English or in Tagalog. There was this tempting allure to write permanently in Tagalog knowing Kababayans the world over will get a piece of what they’re missing back home – speaking their native language.
But why in heaven’s name am I writing in English? Is this my attempt to show all of you that I write better in this medium more than I could with my native tongue? Am I trying to convince you that speaking or writing in Tagalog does more harm in a globalized world? I’m not going to give you a complicated answer. In fact, my reason is simply to reach out to a reader whose teenage son keeps pestering her why he should learn Tagalog. My purpose is to convince her son that there's value in learning Filipino even if he's living in the US. And the convincing will take place in English. So here it goes:
Regardless of where you are, having another language in your arsenal of wits gives you “pogi” points. In fact, it’s kind of liberating when you hear a fellow kababayan speaking the mother tongue when you’re overseas travelling. There was this one time I was in Bangkok and I ran out of clean underwear that I had to go to the nearest shopping mall and look for my size. Just right across where I was standing, an elderly woman holding a little girl went straight to me. She smiled and bowed like how Thais would usually do when greeting people. I bowed back gesturing courtesy to this old woman with a huge smile. She then asked me, “San ba kami puwedeng kumain dito?” I asked her how she knew I’m a Filipino and she said she heard me cursing and swearing over my mobile phone in Tagalog. All along I thought she was Thai and I felt relieved when we spoke in Tagalog for a few minutes in a country with limited English-speaking people. Having a good grasp of another language is empowering but to know by heart your own language emancipates. It reminds you of your roots, where you’re from, and how you started. It humbles you.
Having a good grasp of your own language instills a sense of belonging. A native language carries with it a sense of family that you know you can depend on in times of need. I remember clearly I was having problems explaining to my students (yes, I used to teach in college) what nationalism is. In the social sciences, scholars couldn’t agree how they would define nationalism because it’s a fleeting concept. But I still tried anyway. Then a lady student barged into my classroom five minutes before the bell. She was strolling past me like she was walking down a cat walk and told me “Hi Sir” with all smiles. Infuriated, I called her attention and told her, “Hoy! P@#ang Ina Mo!!!!”. The student cried. She and the entire class were in shock! Then I explained to her and to the class that what just happened demonstrates the power of one’s own language. If instead I said to her “F@#k you!”, she would have just smiled and said, “Alright, when?”. But knowing the depth and meaning of “PI Mo” creates a feeling of offense that only a true Pinoy can understand.
In his book Imagined Communities, Benedict Anderson (he’s Irish, speaks fluent Mandarin, and an avid fan of Jose Rizal. I’m sure he knows about Noli and El Fili more than we do) argues that language brings with it a sense of community. It has the power to weave together fragmented groups, create social order and strengthen culture. When you first landed in a foreign country, what was the first thing that popped in your mind? I’m sure they’re plenty but my guess is you’re looking for a kindred soul, a fellow Pinoy. Is it because we know that Pinoys will welcome us or that they’re a hilarious bunch? Nope. It’s because we need someone to talk to and someone who can understand us. Language brings us together.
That’s why I’m proud of my heritage and my language (although I have to apologize this essay is written in English). Wherever I go, I carry them like a badge of honor. Sure I can write and speak in English fluently, but I draw my knowledge and strength from my culture, my language.I can write several thousand words more but I’ll reserve them in another post. I wish this short piece have enlightened you even in a small way.
Wednesday, August 27, 2008
The Sociology of Psychology
This essay is in response to Otep De Guzman’s comments on my earlier posting. Otep used to be a colleague when both of us worked for the ASEAN Business Advisory Council and Mr. Jose Concepcion Jr. His interest is in Political History and Social Policy. He now works in the Middle East as a Human Resource Specialist. His comments are pasted below in full.
Otep!!! It's been a long time and it's nice to hear from you. I apologize for not responding immediately. I was tied to some boring administrative stuff – stuff all of us call work?.
Anyway, alas! The kind of blogging I want to generate! See what I mean William?
Moving on to the issues you raised. I understand the relevance of making distinctions between the micro and the macro aspects of religion. It becomes easy for us to categorize the functions of religion to man as individual -- with private decisions to make and internal demons to address -- and man as gregarious. However, when you consider religion and its observance as something complex, the distinction becomes blurred.
I agree with Otep that religion is a constructed phenomenon designed to handle different forms of uncertainty. It keeps man sane because he doesn't have to worry about things and concepts beyond what his neurons can assess. Besides, why should he bother about the mysteries of the universe when there is a prescient “Being” who/that doesn't want to be understood?
But man, the individual, can't be free from his social attachments. No matter how serious he becomes entwined with his internal demons he is still tied to the community where he belongs (even ascetics and hermits can't be entirely free of their worlds). What's more is that even if he acts in his individual capacity, it would still result in the creation of local histories -- his story as a person who is directly linked to his ecology. Thus, there is an overlap between his private and public attachments which make distinctions difficult to achieve. This is not to say that we should forget about the psychology of religion. We just need to look at man's practice of religion in the context of his environment.
Again, I agree with Otep's sociology of religion in which it serves as a belief system that attempts to fulfil the expectations of (and on many occasions, attempt to sustain) the social order. Although it sounds more like the commonly used definition of 'ideology', religion as belief system serves as a lever that once pulled could move even the most passive person to action. What bothers me though is his critique of the major world religions' opting to outdo each other. In some sense it's true that pressures were created and will remain for years to come. This especially applies to mission churches that claim to have all the answers to man's problems and that other denominations are mere repositories of doctrinal error. But I don't see them as lynchpins of peace and security in world affairs. On the contrary, the emergence of new religious movements and the revival of old ones also have positive effects on both local and international developments.
The impact of their activities on various local development efforts is very welcomed in communities where it is directed. Forget about Dubya Bush and his right-wing acolyte. They give religion and religious organizations (at least the good ones) a bad rep. Empirical studies show (Barro, 2004) that there is a direct link between religiosity (not spirituality) and economic growth. These studies were conducted in ghetto neighbourhoods (Bronx) and guess what, the active involvement of different churches in these communities contributed to the decline of gang wars, drug trafficking, and recidivism to name just a few. In the Philippines, there are Catholic and Christian organizations that are directly involved in community development (which I think should be studied further by development scientists).
On the international level, the World Bank just got interested in religious issues and invited members of the World Council of Churches to discuss development interventions. Picture this, the World Bank, one of the pillars of modernization theory, funded many academic and policy research majority of which argued that the more modern and secular a community becomes the more they deviate from religious beliefs and practices. Now, it's trying to muster the influence of religious organizations after realizing that the neo-liberal agenda is inadequate in addressing economic and social problems of poverty, marginalization, unemployment, etc.
Lastly, I still agree with Otep that religion is critical to the Philippines noting the many different religious stripes we have. Unlike him, I believe that it HAS NOT FAILED -- YET. The adaptive nature of religion and its complexity provides us more space that can be utilized for development purposes. I don't deny that patronage politics is still at play in the country but to stop there would be very limiting. There are many rooms for manoeuvre religion and religious organizations that can be beneficial to the people.
Olrayt! Otep, if you have friends who are interested in discussing more about religion please tell them about my blog. Their ideas would surely help. Thanks.
================
Hey there Lem!
In discussing religion, maybe we should make distinctions about religion as psychology and religion as sociology, or micro and macro if you prefer.
"Religion" in a micro mode is both a created phenomenon in itself (based on the person's belief structures) or the mind's built-in mechanism to handle uncertainty.
"Religion" in a macro mode is more about the use of belief systems to fulfill certain expectations of the social order. Judging by the performance of the major world religions the relevance of hierarchy in religion has created pressures that will remain the lynchpin of peace and security in the world today. While the Catholic Church has been decayed by ennui and the onslaught of the contradictions of modern humanism and liberalism, the orthodox Muslim world has become even more virulent and anti-change.
All in all, the religious phase of our civilization as an institution has drawn to a close and the demands of a greater "spirituality" free from any specific dogma will be the way to go. In the West this has progressively been the move, except in the US, where W has wisely used his religious attack dogs to blindside opponents of his administration. The US case is critical for the Philippines, which has religious leaders of every stripe entrenched in the power structure.
They are special in that they are major power-brokers. Religion in this society HAS FAILED, no matter how well-meaning the intentions of many do-gooders. The structure has propped up the old politics of patronage in the country.More to say, but awfully little time to stay awake!Note:
Lifted from www.pinoid.com
Otep!!! It's been a long time and it's nice to hear from you. I apologize for not responding immediately. I was tied to some boring administrative stuff – stuff all of us call work?.
Anyway, alas! The kind of blogging I want to generate! See what I mean William?
Moving on to the issues you raised. I understand the relevance of making distinctions between the micro and the macro aspects of religion. It becomes easy for us to categorize the functions of religion to man as individual -- with private decisions to make and internal demons to address -- and man as gregarious. However, when you consider religion and its observance as something complex, the distinction becomes blurred.
I agree with Otep that religion is a constructed phenomenon designed to handle different forms of uncertainty. It keeps man sane because he doesn't have to worry about things and concepts beyond what his neurons can assess. Besides, why should he bother about the mysteries of the universe when there is a prescient “Being” who/that doesn't want to be understood?
But man, the individual, can't be free from his social attachments. No matter how serious he becomes entwined with his internal demons he is still tied to the community where he belongs (even ascetics and hermits can't be entirely free of their worlds). What's more is that even if he acts in his individual capacity, it would still result in the creation of local histories -- his story as a person who is directly linked to his ecology. Thus, there is an overlap between his private and public attachments which make distinctions difficult to achieve. This is not to say that we should forget about the psychology of religion. We just need to look at man's practice of religion in the context of his environment.
Again, I agree with Otep's sociology of religion in which it serves as a belief system that attempts to fulfil the expectations of (and on many occasions, attempt to sustain) the social order. Although it sounds more like the commonly used definition of 'ideology', religion as belief system serves as a lever that once pulled could move even the most passive person to action. What bothers me though is his critique of the major world religions' opting to outdo each other. In some sense it's true that pressures were created and will remain for years to come. This especially applies to mission churches that claim to have all the answers to man's problems and that other denominations are mere repositories of doctrinal error. But I don't see them as lynchpins of peace and security in world affairs. On the contrary, the emergence of new religious movements and the revival of old ones also have positive effects on both local and international developments.
The impact of their activities on various local development efforts is very welcomed in communities where it is directed. Forget about Dubya Bush and his right-wing acolyte. They give religion and religious organizations (at least the good ones) a bad rep. Empirical studies show (Barro, 2004) that there is a direct link between religiosity (not spirituality) and economic growth. These studies were conducted in ghetto neighbourhoods (Bronx) and guess what, the active involvement of different churches in these communities contributed to the decline of gang wars, drug trafficking, and recidivism to name just a few. In the Philippines, there are Catholic and Christian organizations that are directly involved in community development (which I think should be studied further by development scientists).
On the international level, the World Bank just got interested in religious issues and invited members of the World Council of Churches to discuss development interventions. Picture this, the World Bank, one of the pillars of modernization theory, funded many academic and policy research majority of which argued that the more modern and secular a community becomes the more they deviate from religious beliefs and practices. Now, it's trying to muster the influence of religious organizations after realizing that the neo-liberal agenda is inadequate in addressing economic and social problems of poverty, marginalization, unemployment, etc.
Lastly, I still agree with Otep that religion is critical to the Philippines noting the many different religious stripes we have. Unlike him, I believe that it HAS NOT FAILED -- YET. The adaptive nature of religion and its complexity provides us more space that can be utilized for development purposes. I don't deny that patronage politics is still at play in the country but to stop there would be very limiting. There are many rooms for manoeuvre religion and religious organizations that can be beneficial to the people.
Olrayt! Otep, if you have friends who are interested in discussing more about religion please tell them about my blog. Their ideas would surely help. Thanks.
================
Hey there Lem!
In discussing religion, maybe we should make distinctions about religion as psychology and religion as sociology, or micro and macro if you prefer.
"Religion" in a micro mode is both a created phenomenon in itself (based on the person's belief structures) or the mind's built-in mechanism to handle uncertainty.
"Religion" in a macro mode is more about the use of belief systems to fulfill certain expectations of the social order. Judging by the performance of the major world religions the relevance of hierarchy in religion has created pressures that will remain the lynchpin of peace and security in the world today. While the Catholic Church has been decayed by ennui and the onslaught of the contradictions of modern humanism and liberalism, the orthodox Muslim world has become even more virulent and anti-change.
All in all, the religious phase of our civilization as an institution has drawn to a close and the demands of a greater "spirituality" free from any specific dogma will be the way to go. In the West this has progressively been the move, except in the US, where W has wisely used his religious attack dogs to blindside opponents of his administration. The US case is critical for the Philippines, which has religious leaders of every stripe entrenched in the power structure.
They are special in that they are major power-brokers. Religion in this society HAS FAILED, no matter how well-meaning the intentions of many do-gooders. The structure has propped up the old politics of patronage in the country.More to say, but awfully little time to stay awake!Note:
Lifted from www.pinoid.com
Monday, August 11, 2008
Tourism 101: How my Banaue trip brought my true self back
I was hesitant to go at first because of the low pressure weather forecast on the news. The August 2 reports said a storm will hit Banaue where I was heading. But I could not let Yukio, a Japanese professor and friend, down who just called up and said we have to go. We’ll study the impact of tourism on the lives of Ifugaos.
It was raining heavily that night and on the way to our rendezvous I defied floods and gusty winds. As if something was stopping me. As if Mother Nature was telling me not to go. But relent I did not.
I went charging mightily while a movie clip played in my head taunting Mother Nature, Dirty Harry-like, to make my day. I arrived late but it’s not really a problem because I know Yukio understands that when it rains in Manila, everywhere turns into Venice minus the pleasantries of old and romantic Venetian architectures.
We met around 8:30 pm in Quezon City and headed to the bus terminal in Sampaloc. I was imagining a first class behemoth to cut the North Luzon expressway in half.
When I saw the bus, my jaw dropped six floors down. I was time-warped back in 2005 to La Habana Vieja (Old Havana) seeing Wawas, Cuba’s local buses that are as old as the Cuban revolution. I could even hear in my head passengers singing Guantanamera.
In the bus, I asked Yukio what his research plans were. “Well, I haven’t really thought about it yet,” he said. With clear danger in sight plus the certainty of death, I don’t see bright prospects in this trip.
To my surprise, there’s not much rain in the expressway. Considering the features of the bus the ride was long, arduous, and uncomfortable but the driver was extra careful and brought us safely to our destination.
I was stressed throughout the trip because I suffer from motion sickness. It got worse because I was peeking out the window every ten seconds waiting for gigantic rocks to roll over us and crush all passengers into jigsaw puzzles.
When we arrived in Banaue, we booked in People’s Lodge and decided to rest for several hours before we started working. Yukio was sound asleep but I was awake and restless because we didn’t set the needed appointments.
After three hours, Yukio woke and found me standing at the lodge’s veranda. I was staring at the rice terraces and wondering what it was like to live out there. All my life I have been a city dweller and eight years of it have been spent in a condominium.
Yukio asked me if I was ready to start working. I said yes and asked what his game plan was. “There,” Yukio pointing to the top of the mountain telling me he wanted to climb.
I wasn’t ready for a trek because the only exercise I had in many years was surf cable channels. I told him that I have too much blood in my nicotine-stream and climbing that height would be suicide.
“I need to talk to the locals and know their plight as farmers,” he said.
I looked at the map and tried to understand the terrain then glanced at the mountain. Rain clouds covered half of it and I knew that climbing in this weather was impossible.
I’ve asked some townsfolk how the mountain trail was like and they’ve advised us to be careful.
“The steps going up are slippery and it’ll be dark soon,” said some of them advising us not to go.
All I did was sigh because I knew Yukio had limited time and he needed as much data as he can get. As we slowly climbed the mountain, I realized that one wrong step would mean disaster.
The steps were so narrow and water from the mountain was streaming down which made the climb even more dangerous. Beside the slippery steps, you can see rice paddies several hundred kilometers below.
I almost fell off the mountain thrice but was able to hang on to weeds, rocks, and mud for dear life. While keeping my balance, elementary students living in the mountain were running up and down our trail.
“Are you scared?” said one grade schooler who was on his way to class. “No I’m not,” I answered but was close to shouting at the charming critter to get out of my way.
When we reached the mountain top, the rain stopped. There, we were welcomed by total strangers with huge smiles.
The Ifugaos we spoke to were very accommodating. They let us rest in their Baleys, Ifugaos’ native houses, while Yukio chatted away.
“We eat what we harvest and we don’t like commercial rice unless we ran out of supplies,” Junibelle Dang-Iw, a forestry graduate who tills the land and carves wood during off season, told Yukio of farmers’ way of life. “We share everything here fifty/fifty. And we also share it to our neighbors who lack food.”
While Yukio fired all his questions, my mind was flying and my eyes were wandering. While I could not fathom how these people live with limited food supply in a tiny house that’s good for one person only, there’s also a powerful attraction in their simplicity. I’m five feet and eleven inches tall and I can’t fit in the house but I felt so relaxed for once in my life.
Then it hit me. I was too concerned about my material yearnings having grown and lived in the city. I realized that the stress I had during the trip was not really about survival and security. It was about me having to leave behind the comforts of urban life.
Having lived in the city for thirty-two years, I always get everything with ease. Going up the mountain was not easy but I felt some degree of accomplishment, some degree of peace.
Of course I’m happy I came back alive. But I’m much happier now not only because I helped a friend but most importantly I also get to see life’s simple beauty through its simple people – the Ifugaos.
It was raining heavily that night and on the way to our rendezvous I defied floods and gusty winds. As if something was stopping me. As if Mother Nature was telling me not to go. But relent I did not.
I went charging mightily while a movie clip played in my head taunting Mother Nature, Dirty Harry-like, to make my day. I arrived late but it’s not really a problem because I know Yukio understands that when it rains in Manila, everywhere turns into Venice minus the pleasantries of old and romantic Venetian architectures.
We met around 8:30 pm in Quezon City and headed to the bus terminal in Sampaloc. I was imagining a first class behemoth to cut the North Luzon expressway in half.
When I saw the bus, my jaw dropped six floors down. I was time-warped back in 2005 to La Habana Vieja (Old Havana) seeing Wawas, Cuba’s local buses that are as old as the Cuban revolution. I could even hear in my head passengers singing Guantanamera.
In the bus, I asked Yukio what his research plans were. “Well, I haven’t really thought about it yet,” he said. With clear danger in sight plus the certainty of death, I don’t see bright prospects in this trip.
To my surprise, there’s not much rain in the expressway. Considering the features of the bus the ride was long, arduous, and uncomfortable but the driver was extra careful and brought us safely to our destination.
I was stressed throughout the trip because I suffer from motion sickness. It got worse because I was peeking out the window every ten seconds waiting for gigantic rocks to roll over us and crush all passengers into jigsaw puzzles.
When we arrived in Banaue, we booked in People’s Lodge and decided to rest for several hours before we started working. Yukio was sound asleep but I was awake and restless because we didn’t set the needed appointments.
After three hours, Yukio woke and found me standing at the lodge’s veranda. I was staring at the rice terraces and wondering what it was like to live out there. All my life I have been a city dweller and eight years of it have been spent in a condominium.
Yukio asked me if I was ready to start working. I said yes and asked what his game plan was. “There,” Yukio pointing to the top of the mountain telling me he wanted to climb.
I wasn’t ready for a trek because the only exercise I had in many years was surf cable channels. I told him that I have too much blood in my nicotine-stream and climbing that height would be suicide.
“I need to talk to the locals and know their plight as farmers,” he said.
I looked at the map and tried to understand the terrain then glanced at the mountain. Rain clouds covered half of it and I knew that climbing in this weather was impossible.
I’ve asked some townsfolk how the mountain trail was like and they’ve advised us to be careful.
“The steps going up are slippery and it’ll be dark soon,” said some of them advising us not to go.
All I did was sigh because I knew Yukio had limited time and he needed as much data as he can get. As we slowly climbed the mountain, I realized that one wrong step would mean disaster.
The steps were so narrow and water from the mountain was streaming down which made the climb even more dangerous. Beside the slippery steps, you can see rice paddies several hundred kilometers below.
I almost fell off the mountain thrice but was able to hang on to weeds, rocks, and mud for dear life. While keeping my balance, elementary students living in the mountain were running up and down our trail.
“Are you scared?” said one grade schooler who was on his way to class. “No I’m not,” I answered but was close to shouting at the charming critter to get out of my way.
When we reached the mountain top, the rain stopped. There, we were welcomed by total strangers with huge smiles.
The Ifugaos we spoke to were very accommodating. They let us rest in their Baleys, Ifugaos’ native houses, while Yukio chatted away.
“We eat what we harvest and we don’t like commercial rice unless we ran out of supplies,” Junibelle Dang-Iw, a forestry graduate who tills the land and carves wood during off season, told Yukio of farmers’ way of life. “We share everything here fifty/fifty. And we also share it to our neighbors who lack food.”
While Yukio fired all his questions, my mind was flying and my eyes were wandering. While I could not fathom how these people live with limited food supply in a tiny house that’s good for one person only, there’s also a powerful attraction in their simplicity. I’m five feet and eleven inches tall and I can’t fit in the house but I felt so relaxed for once in my life.
Then it hit me. I was too concerned about my material yearnings having grown and lived in the city. I realized that the stress I had during the trip was not really about survival and security. It was about me having to leave behind the comforts of urban life.
Having lived in the city for thirty-two years, I always get everything with ease. Going up the mountain was not easy but I felt some degree of accomplishment, some degree of peace.
Of course I’m happy I came back alive. But I’m much happier now not only because I helped a friend but most importantly I also get to see life’s simple beauty through its simple people – the Ifugaos.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
