A batang pulubi comes up to me asking for alms, saying, in a holier-than-the-pope manner, “Ate, pahingi lang po ng pambiling tinapay…” He flashes me those glassy eyes, which look like they’re about to burst into tears. In my mind, I give him an “A+” for the effort. Then, I don’t think twice of giving the kid a hostile look and shooing him away with it.
It’s a uniqueness I am not actually proud of, but do admit that, unlike most of us, I don’t take pity on these so-called deprived kids. Reason is, I know that these mongrels are only nice and angelic for the time being when they are asking for money. Otherwise, they’ll be running around trashing some place, cussing, or simply being the uncouth and ungrateful little half-wits they have become.
Call it a hasty generalization if you want. Call me ruthless, even. But I stand by what I have said. These kids…I will not have myself give an impression that begging is a lucrative endeavor. I’d rather shoot them down with hostility and nastiness than have them think that they could just beg to make a living. I’d understand if these little ones are old, frail, gray, and unable to give much physical effort. But they are not. They haven’t even peaked, for heaven’s sake. I am not about to give them this warped idea that they don’t need to go to school because they could simply ask people for money and get by.
But, who could blame them, right?
Our present-day society promotes a culture of beggars and free-loaders, from everyday people giving loose change to street beggars to television networks organizing game shows with hefty prizes at stake.
To me, giving these street children money is teaching them the wrong thing about the value of money. Having these game shows, again, to me, is a slice of the same cake.
I frequently watch these shows. The contestants are always (not even almost always) people who are poor and evidently financially distressed. Most of them do win as much as a million Pesos in one appearance. These poor people think that they are simply cashing in a fortune without anything personal at stake. But when I look at these shows more closely, I see that the contestants win big prizes, yes—but generally at their own expense.
They are made to look like idiots. They are made to sing. To dance. To cry and wallow in their despair. And other what nots. They are laughed at as they provide cheap entertainment to viewers like me. I find all of it hilarious really, but at some point I get the idea that they are only being the puppets that they seem to be just because they want to win. For whatever amount of money, be it cellphone load or a suitcase full of bills, these poor people go to the game studio ready to bear it all. I’m thinking that they merely are naïve of how silly they look on TV or just flat-out don’t care. Maybe because they have nothing more to lose but everything to gain? Desperate for salvation from the slums of poverty and hopelessness? Yes, that is it.
This is where our culture of beggars has come today. It has become so “profitable” that even TV networks are joining in. The game shows are the new catalysts of the new generation of pulubis. They give out prizes in the guise of helping, pro bono, these financially-deprived individuals. Whereas, they actually make huge corporate profits by capitalizing on these people’s nothing-to-lose mentality and sheer desperation.
Ang mga pulubing ito…they get inspired of the stories of the winning contestants in these game shows that they immediately want to try their own luck. They know nothing of what they are, in truth, risking—their integrity, image, and, yes, maybe even their life.
Now, hold on…are any of you saying that I am exaggerating? Christine, no one has died while playing these harmless game shows?
“Eat sh*t,” I say.
So how and why did 71 people die (800+ injured) at the Ultra that day over two years ago? Were there any rampaging beasts chasing them down that slope, causing them to stampede over themselves?
The Wowowee Ultra tragedy on February 4, 2006: The people were there as early as a few days before the actual show. They all were living those few days, not on food, but on the gleaming ray of light at the end of their poverty tunnel. In their minds, a few more days of empty stomachs were nothing. After all, everyone will indeed end up as winners. (http://www.pcij.org/i-report/6/wowowee.html) That when they go home, they’d have enough money to live by a few more measly days. But that fateful morning, there were no winners. They were all losers. And there were 71 grand losers.
As much as we want to think that no one told them to come to Ultra that day, no one forced them, that they came in flocks, and they all did at their own will, it is not as simple as that. These beggars think the way they think—that they have nothing to lose and that they’re individuals left with hopelessness and desperation—mainly because we made them that way.
Our culture feeds on their desperation instead of feeding their hungry mouths with nutrition and filling their uneducated minds with useful knowledge. By giving them more freebies of loose change and grand cash prizes, we teach them that it is perfectly okay to feel hopeless and use their own desperation to get an easy buck or two.
A culture of beggars and free-loaders. To my mind, it is downright disappointing that it has come to this. So however pitiful-looking a batang pulubi coming up to me is, I will remain unimpressed. I will not encourage a culture that feeds on their unknowing state of mind. Will you?
Sunday, March 23, 2008
HERO OR ZERO?
(Author's note: the upside of working overtime in the office is that i get some lull time, when i find myself caught up in audit. i get a chance to unblock my writer's block ;)
I watched some show a month ago. It described Filipinos as a culture and a people always in need of a hero. Why? Well, I’ll just take this opportunity to allow my overly unqualified self to psychologize this.
We are a persecuted people. We are the underdogs in every race we enter into. We are all Marimars and everyone else is our very own Angelika. This is why we always need a hero. Someone to save us from suffering. Someone to look up to. Someone to thank after the storm has died down.
A recent storm in our lives has not exactly died down, but our society is apparently in the midst of a hero most of us are grateful for.
Rodolfo “Jun” Lozada. The former president of the Philippine Forest Corporation. The “lowly”, Chinese immigrant forced into the limelight of the ZTE scandal. A man who testified against a number of public officials regarding their corrupt ways, including his own, and gave the whole nation a dose of a medication it just so needed—the truth. For that, he is being regarded the modern-day hero.
Psychology now aside, I now question not the credibility of his person as a witness, but his newly-attained celebrity-slash-hero status. I could see that he is now on a pedestal built by our being, again, a society thirsty for truth, salvation, and a clichéd hero. What I could not see and understand, however, is why, in God’s holy name, we put him up there. Way up there.
It all started when he was repeatedly asked to attend the Senate hearings on the ZTE probe and when he never seemed to heed to the Senators’ requests. He never came to the hearings. Someone said he was out of the country. Probably in the UK or something to that effect. He was threatened with an arrest.
Finally, rumors surfaced that he was coming back to accede to the Senate’s request. But when he arrived in the airport that day, he never came out. Everyone came looking for this guy. More rumors came up, of him being kidnapped and sorts. He popped up the next day already in the care of the La Salle brothers.
He graced the Senate hearing with his presence, at last. Not to mention making his most awaited appearance with the La Salle brothers and (RVM) nuns in tow.
Since then, he has been engaged in what I call a nationwide “concert tour”. Like some rock band, he goes around cities, provinces, and schools to impart his little known experiences as a Senate witness to the people who apparently still want to know more.
Frankly, I am sick of his act. No, I’m not saying that he is a grand liar. I am just tired of him basking in fame as if he really is a hero. He does not deserve my admiration, and really, anyone else’s for that matter.
I know of a hero as someone who did something great. In a grand scheme of things, a hero does something out of the ordinary to effect some good. By those simple criteria, Jun Lozada, does not impress me.
Just when did the tables turn? How has something that is supposed to be a “given” like telling the truth become so…hero-like? In this day and age, I understand, the truth has become so rare, that anyone found telling it is regarded as amazing. However, I believe that it has become so overrated, especially when it is told in such a grand manner… (cue clips from the ZTE hearings with Mr. Lozada bursting to tears one moment after the other)
For the latest Philippine news stories and videos, visit GMANews.TV
We should remember that corruption is a crime of complete deception and dishonesty. And Jun Lozada was really once part of the deception. Him “outing” himself and the rest of the ZTE players should not be considered heroic. It was his obligation to the country, a country that has been plagued decade after decade (after decade) with graft and corruption, to tell the freakin’ truth for it is what we have always deserved. We are all expected to be honest and anyone found to be just that should be thanked, I guess, but not put up a pedestal. I know that we are part of a system that rewards perpetrators who have suddenly had an attack of conscience. To me, that is just a pity. If someone has done wrong, he should be punished. If he subsequently decides to be honest about it, well and good, but what wrong he had done in the first place should never be decriminalized. Telling the truth is merely an obligation these perpetrators, just like Jun Lozada, had to fulfill, plain and simple. The truth is always fascinating, but it is not out of the ordinary, much more heroic. No medals or certificates should be given out to people who choose to do something so pedestrian.
I would like take this opportunity, though, to recognize the efforts of Mr. Lozada. Thank you for telling the truth. Thank you for shedding us some light on a long-running political myth. If you did anything heroic, it would not be telling the simple truth. It would be going out of your comfort zone, even risking the normalcy of your family’s life and safety. That is admirable, dear sir. Apart from that, I remain unimpressed. You’re still no hero to me, unfortunately.
All this has been disappointing: truth becoming so rare, corruption being more common, and the constant cycle of having whistleblowers as our heroes. We do not need this type of hoopla to find our heroes. In fact, we do not need heroes to save us. We should keep in mind that there could be greatness in everything we do, however mundane that thing is. We could be our own hero. Because as much as stories of others inspire us, it will always be us who can solve our problems and get ourselves out of persecution.
I watched some show a month ago. It described Filipinos as a culture and a people always in need of a hero. Why? Well, I’ll just take this opportunity to allow my overly unqualified self to psychologize this.
We are a persecuted people. We are the underdogs in every race we enter into. We are all Marimars and everyone else is our very own Angelika. This is why we always need a hero. Someone to save us from suffering. Someone to look up to. Someone to thank after the storm has died down.
A recent storm in our lives has not exactly died down, but our society is apparently in the midst of a hero most of us are grateful for.
Rodolfo “Jun” Lozada. The former president of the Philippine Forest Corporation. The “lowly”, Chinese immigrant forced into the limelight of the ZTE scandal. A man who testified against a number of public officials regarding their corrupt ways, including his own, and gave the whole nation a dose of a medication it just so needed—the truth. For that, he is being regarded the modern-day hero.
Psychology now aside, I now question not the credibility of his person as a witness, but his newly-attained celebrity-slash-hero status. I could see that he is now on a pedestal built by our being, again, a society thirsty for truth, salvation, and a clichéd hero. What I could not see and understand, however, is why, in God’s holy name, we put him up there. Way up there.
It all started when he was repeatedly asked to attend the Senate hearings on the ZTE probe and when he never seemed to heed to the Senators’ requests. He never came to the hearings. Someone said he was out of the country. Probably in the UK or something to that effect. He was threatened with an arrest.
Finally, rumors surfaced that he was coming back to accede to the Senate’s request. But when he arrived in the airport that day, he never came out. Everyone came looking for this guy. More rumors came up, of him being kidnapped and sorts. He popped up the next day already in the care of the La Salle brothers.
He graced the Senate hearing with his presence, at last. Not to mention making his most awaited appearance with the La Salle brothers and (RVM) nuns in tow.
Since then, he has been engaged in what I call a nationwide “concert tour”. Like some rock band, he goes around cities, provinces, and schools to impart his little known experiences as a Senate witness to the people who apparently still want to know more.
Frankly, I am sick of his act. No, I’m not saying that he is a grand liar. I am just tired of him basking in fame as if he really is a hero. He does not deserve my admiration, and really, anyone else’s for that matter.
I know of a hero as someone who did something great. In a grand scheme of things, a hero does something out of the ordinary to effect some good. By those simple criteria, Jun Lozada, does not impress me.
Just when did the tables turn? How has something that is supposed to be a “given” like telling the truth become so…hero-like? In this day and age, I understand, the truth has become so rare, that anyone found telling it is regarded as amazing. However, I believe that it has become so overrated, especially when it is told in such a grand manner… (cue clips from the ZTE hearings with Mr. Lozada bursting to tears one moment after the other)
For the latest Philippine news stories and videos, visit GMANews.TV
We should remember that corruption is a crime of complete deception and dishonesty. And Jun Lozada was really once part of the deception. Him “outing” himself and the rest of the ZTE players should not be considered heroic. It was his obligation to the country, a country that has been plagued decade after decade (after decade) with graft and corruption, to tell the freakin’ truth for it is what we have always deserved. We are all expected to be honest and anyone found to be just that should be thanked, I guess, but not put up a pedestal. I know that we are part of a system that rewards perpetrators who have suddenly had an attack of conscience. To me, that is just a pity. If someone has done wrong, he should be punished. If he subsequently decides to be honest about it, well and good, but what wrong he had done in the first place should never be decriminalized. Telling the truth is merely an obligation these perpetrators, just like Jun Lozada, had to fulfill, plain and simple. The truth is always fascinating, but it is not out of the ordinary, much more heroic. No medals or certificates should be given out to people who choose to do something so pedestrian.
I would like take this opportunity, though, to recognize the efforts of Mr. Lozada. Thank you for telling the truth. Thank you for shedding us some light on a long-running political myth. If you did anything heroic, it would not be telling the simple truth. It would be going out of your comfort zone, even risking the normalcy of your family’s life and safety. That is admirable, dear sir. Apart from that, I remain unimpressed. You’re still no hero to me, unfortunately.
All this has been disappointing: truth becoming so rare, corruption being more common, and the constant cycle of having whistleblowers as our heroes. We do not need this type of hoopla to find our heroes. In fact, we do not need heroes to save us. We should keep in mind that there could be greatness in everything we do, however mundane that thing is. We could be our own hero. Because as much as stories of others inspire us, it will always be us who can solve our problems and get ourselves out of persecution.
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