The parable of the lost cellphone

I used to lose cellphones all the time. I lost my phone to knife-bearing 'holdapers' while riding a jeepney in E. Rodriguez, Quezon City and to a snatcher on a Manila-bound bus from Batangas. The most careless of all when my phone slipped into the sea while I texting on a boat in Coron - an episode witnessed by my friend Olivia Mejia. Helpless, all I could do was post on Facebook that "I may have lost my phone but at least I found paradise".

But there was a time when I thought that my phone was gone, only for me to get it back in a way that helped me appreciate an often-misunderstood part of our country. I was traveling in Maguindanao when, upon returning to Cotabato City, I realized that my phone was gone. At the time, the Maguindanao massacre was still fresh on people’s minds and I have to admit that I felt a bit of unease while traveling in the area. In any case, even if the disappearance happened anywhere else in the Philippines, I honestly thought that there was no chance that I could ever get my phone back.

To my surprise, however, my friend and host in Cotabato - Dr. Zhamir Umag- got a text message from my mobile number that night, with someone saying that he had found my phone. "How can I return it?" the sender asked. It turned out that I had left it on the jeepney back to Cotabato, and it was picked up by someone from Buldon, Maguindanao. Zham communicated with the finder and they made arrangements for the phone to be brought back to Cotabato the next time the finder goes to the city.

I was already back in Manila when the phone arrived by courier. When I opened the phone, I saw various pictures that the finder must have taken using the phone. It revealed a mountainous area and a wooden house (like the one in the picture) that must have been the finder's home. Surely, if he had sold the phone, it would have made for a significant sum. The more I looked at the photos - the finder's young kids, his wife, and their village - the more I marveled at the kindness of the finder.

Grateful, and thrilled, I asked Zham to offer a token of appreciation to the honest finder and his family.

But the finder turned it down, saying:

"Please tell him that we're not expecting any reward. We're just being good Muslims."

Note: I originally posted this photo on Facebook where it went viral, getting over 32,000 likes and 5,400 shares. It was also carried by several news outlets and websites:

"The Heartwarming Story Behind this Viral Photo" (ABS-CBN)
http://rachfeed.com/look-photo-small-nipa-hut-gone-viral-touching-reason/
http://www.thesummitexpress.com/2016/05/gideon-lasco-viral-photo-small-shanty.html
http://www.trendingnews.ph/touching-story-behind-viral-photo/
http://www.mindanews.com/top-stories/2016/05/please-tell-him-were-not-expecting-any-reward/

Mother's Day essay: There are no plain housewives

by Gideon Lasco

It has already been rejected many times in the past but the use of the term 'plain housewife' has continued to this present day, not just in ordinary conversations, but in news reports. A quick Internet search reveals that in the past year alone, the term was used in local media at least 18 times. “From being a plain housewife, [she] is now earning enough for her family to live a comfortable life,” says one report about a Cebu businesswoman. Even the Philippine Information Agency describes one beneficiary as a “plain housewife”.

What is so “plain” about housewives?

In the Philippines, women and men have always shared the tasks of raising a family. That our languages don’t distinguish between males or females (asawa can mean husband or wife) is just one of the evidences of the more egalitarian society we have enjoyed long before the colonial encounter. In many societies, the mag-asawa shared in various responsibilities of the oft-inseparable domains of earning a living and tending the household.

This mode, however, changed in modern times. Men - for whom the jobs were initially available - had to leave their homes throughout the day; consequently, the women had to stay. Eventually, there were more opportunities for women, but the higher-paying jobs were still the province of men, due to educational and social barriers.

As a result of these circumstances, the working woman was seen as “sophisticated” - highly-educated and well-heeled - while the housewife was seen as “plain”.

What is wrong about his narrative? First, women who stay at home are also working, perhaps even more so than their husbands. One website, Salary.com, computed that all the tasks of a stay-at-home mom in the US amounted to a $113,568 salary in 2014. Surely, in the Philippines, full-time housewives can also claim a competitive pay were we to put an economic valuation to the work they do.

Moreover, many housewives run sari-sari stores, participate in multi-level marketing, do handicrafts, and engage in many other sources of income. It is only our prejudice for formal employment that colors our view of other forms of hanapbuhay (livelihood), but they are no less important.

Second, being a housewife has never meant being unsophisticated. In fact, staying at home is a choice that many highly-educated women make. Rather than see women who stay at home as subordinated, or confined, we must see that oftentimes these choices are made by couples together. Financially, emotionally, and socially, it takes courage to be a housewife.

Finally, in our society today, many women are actually the breadwinners of the family. Women and men take turns in caring for their children, and in many cases it is the “house husbands” who stay at home. Will they, then, become “plain house-husbands”? These inversions of an imagined “norm” expose the double standards that should invalidate not just our use of “plain housewife”, but our prejudices for women who stay at home.

Cory Aquino is probably one of the most famous examples of a “plain housewife”. During the bitter campaign that ended in the fall of the dictatorship, Ferdinand Marcos and his supporters dismissed Cory as “just a woman” and a “plain housewife”. But Cory Aquino took up the label and it doing so, resonated with millions of women and men around the world. By identifying herself as a "plain housewife", Cory demonstrated that one way to challenge the use of a term is by being its living contradiction.

***

Terms like “plain housewife” remind us that language can reinforce ideologies of power. More than grammar (as the so-called 'grammar police' are wont to do), it is the seepage of oppression and inequality that we must be most wary about in our choice of words. Not to go to the extremes of “political correctness”, but simply to be mindful of the meanings of the words that we say. Surely, social attitudes that are reflected in these words weigh heavily in women’s decisions to stay or not to stay at home. But studies in health and education are unequivocal in seeing the advantages of close parental support.

Of course, many families do not have the luxury of someone staying at home, and I am not advocating for every mother to be a housewife. What I am against is the notion of a “plain housewife” because it shapes our way of thinking about women, and the way women think about themselves. Whatever choices women and men make - as couples or single parents - we should create an environment that supports these choices and family configurations.

I say this as the son of a mother who has devoted a big part of her life to her children. She was many things to us: storyteller, teacher, cook, driver, guidance counsellor, and many more…long before she became our mentor and friend. As a doctor who has witnessed mothers give birth and care for their babies and toddlers, I can also suggest that perhaps the greatest labors our mothers did for us predate our own memories. Surely, their lives are anything but plain. When we reflect on the many tasks of motherhood, we ought to realise that one of the greatest gifts that anyone can have in this world is a mother’s love.

Indeed, there are no plain housewives, just as there are no plain individuals: women and men alike. As we celebrate Mother’s Day, we must celebrate the women of our lives in all their uniqueness. Whether they decide to stay at home, or pursue careers that keep them from home, surely theirs is a labor of love, which deserve our utmost affection and appreciation.

Duterte as folk hero

Photo from Inquirer.net

by Gideon Lasco

Whether or not Duterte actually wins in the coming presidential elections, he has already scored a victory by becoming a folk hero for many Filipinos: those who are disenchanted with our democratic institutions, those in Visayas and Mindanao who feel underrepresented by an “Imperial Manila”, those who are fed up with usual names in politics, and those who are searching for authenticity in our leaders: an authenticity they can relate to.

A folk hero is, as Cambridge Dictionary puts it, “someone who is ​popular with and ​respected by ​ordinary ​people”. Certainly, the inspired following of Duterte all over the Philippines qualifies him by this measure. Even before his “reluctant” candidacy, his name was been uttered by many a taxi driver, as one of them once told me: “If only Duterte were president, surely he can solve the traffic in EDSA!”

Folk heroes, furthermore, are, “ambiguous figures”. Australian folklorist Graham Seal points out that “Many folk heroes walk a thin and fuzzy line between the admirable and the rephrensible. This line is seen is seen most clearly…where the practicalities of defying the law are continually balanced by the injustices - real or otherwise - inflicted by those who control the law.” Like Robin Hood breaking the law to serve the poor in the time of King John’s tyrannical abuses, Duterte’s seeming willingness (by his own words) to resort to extrajudicial measures has alarmed many, but has, in equal measure, convinced others of his heroic qualities.

Sociologists point out that folk heroes embody cultural values - so much so that many scholars actually study folk heroes as a way of understanding the cultures where these heroes belonged. In looking at Duterte as folk hero, then, we can make sense not only of the appeal of his candidacy, but of values many Filipinos hold dear.

Part of Duterte’s appeal lies in his promise of doing things differently in government. Held in the context of the still-unresolved Maguindanao massacre and Mamasapano “misencounter”, his willingness to resort to extraordinary measures serves as a sign of his potential to break the status quo in many other areas. This anti-establishment posture resonates with many who believe that the present system needs changing: those who feel that the problem is Filipinos’ lack of disipline, those who lament the continuous degradation of our natural resources, those who have not felt “inclusive growth” despite claims of an improved economy.

Another part of Duterte’s appeal is in the way he represents Mindanao, Visayas, and the rest of the Philippines outside of Manila. Whether warranted or not, many feel left out, and think that someone from Davao would be more understanding about the concerns of Cebu, than someone from Luzon. Boosting this case is Duterte's espousal of federalism - something that many regions have long been clamoring for.

Duterte’s perceived freshness in national politics is also appealing. While Poe, Binay, Santiago, and Roxas are surnames that have held - or ran for - national positions for decades, this is the first time a Duterte will appear in a national ticket. While this does not mean that he is no political dynast (his daughter Inday was mayor of Davao; his father Vicente was governor of the then-undivided Davao province), at least in the national level he is perceived as new.

Finally, Duterte’s appeal lies in the way people can relate to him. Unlike the mansions (alleged or real) of his rivals, he has a modest house in Davao with a kulambo in tow. While pundits cry foul over his not-so-subtle allusions to womanizing, many actually see his womanizing as a sign of strength and authenticity (at least, the thinking goes, he is honest about it, unlike others who are hypocritical). While pundits cry foul over his use of swear words (something that he has disavowed), it is a language of the street that nether Mar Roxas, with his Ateneo and Wharton education - nor Miriam with her eloquence - can emulate. It is the language that makes people say that “he is one of us”.

***

Folk heroes, however, are the stuff of legend, not of reality, and Duterte is already taking on a legendary character thanks to his ardent followers, who have given him apocryphal endorsements coming from Stephen Curry, AlDub, and even the Pope (which the CBCP had to refute). It is to Duterte’s credit that he can inspire such tales, but what they construct is an image of an infallible leader that is unhelpful to Duterte himself as he needs to be pushed to become a better candidate - not worshipped for what he already is. Moreover, in the process of making someone a folk hero, people make villains of out his enemies, at times with outright lies (i.e. the fictional nurse who bashes Roxas’ Yolanda response). This is not helpful to our political process.

If he loses the elections, Duterte will still live on as a folk hero, and a potent reminder of people’s dissatisfaction about our democratic processes, of the need to pay attention to the entire country, and of people’s growing mistrust of old names in positions of power. He will inspire others to emerge and take up his double-edged sword of no-nonsense leadership.

If he wins, he can capitalize on his popular support in pushing for badly-needed reforms in government. However, with the very high expectations he has set (i.e. “Kill me if I don’t resolve crimes in 6 months”) in the performance of this folk heroism, will he be able to deliver on his promises?

Only the elections will tell if enough people are willing to give him a chance.

Manila
April 2016

GIDEON LASCO ON THE 2016 ELECTIONS
Duterte as folk hero (gideonlasco.com)
Tough love for Duterte (Philippine Daily Inquirer)
Social media advice for Mar Roxas (Philippine Daily Inquirer)
The presidency of the forests (Philippine Daily Inquirer)
The politics of physical appearance (Philippine Daily Inquirer)

Smoking marijuana in Amsterdam

Photo from zambeza.com

by Gideon Lasco

Smoking marijuana in Amsterdam
by Gideon Lasco

AMSTERDAM - The distinctive aroma of cannabis is unmistakable, and there are parts of the city  center where, even with my eyes closed, I could tell that I’m in Amsterdam.

For four years now, I have kept coming back to this city for my graduate studies at the University of Amsterdam. Before our university moved further away from the city center, our department building was right at the red-light district, and when I had not yet mastered my way around the confusing streets and canals that look the same, I would sometimes end up in alleys where sex workers have their glass cubicles - or where coffee shops are suffused with the unerring vapor of the weed that is inexorably associated with the city itself.

As any local would point out, however, the monicker “Weed Capital of the World” is a misrepresentation of Amsterdam itself - a city that many of its residents love for its “small town” feel, and pragmatic sensibility. And while many in the city capitalize on its reputation by selling marijuana-themed souvenirs like cannabis leaf-shaped magnets, the Dutch government has actually introduced restrictions on marijuana use in recent years.

Yet it is still very acceptable to smoke cannabis here, and if I were to smoke a joint in Dam Square or the Museumplein - home of Van Gogh Museum and the Rijksmuseum - no one will notice, let alone arrest me. The city’s official website states that: “those aged 18 and above are permitted to smoke cannabis outside as long as doing so does not create nuisance to others.”

In one of his imaginative pieces in the Inquirer, Ambeth Ocampo interviews Jose Rizal, and gets the national hero to admit that he tried marijuana (a fact supported by Rizal’s own diary). If our national hero used marijuana, why couldn’t I?

***

Smoking weed, of course, has become morally and politically contentious in ways Rizal never anticipated (he, like many youths today, was most likely just “trying out stuff”). A series of legislations starting in the early 20th century turned marijuana into a forbidden substance, even as its very forbidden-ness increased its appeal (“Masarap ang bawal”). By 1972, following the US-led “War on Drugs”, the Dangerous Drugs Act (RA 6425) classified marijuana as a “prohibited drug” - making it even more forbidden than shabu.

Supporters of this drug regime justified these draconian measures by asserting that marijuana is “gateway” drug that could lead to “hard” drugs such as shabu and cocaine. Thereafter, the war on drugs was taken for granted as the righteous thing to do, and it was anathema to even question it. Politicians readily took up the cause, and Gloria Macapagal Arroyo even made the penalties harsher in 2002 with an amended Dangerous Drugs Law that imposes 12 - 20 years of jail time to anyone in possession of less than 300 grams of cannabis. In 2005, a man found in possession of two hand-rolled sticks of marijuana got sentenced to 15 years in prison.

The Dutch, on the other hand, took an entirely different approach, changing its policies on marijuana in 1976. Contrary to popular belief, they didn’t actually legalize marijuana (it’s still technically illegal until now), but they made a sharp distinction between “hard drugs” like methamphetamine and “soft drugs” like marijuana for which they pursued a policy of “non-prosecution”. Instead of looking at these drugs as a criminal problem, they saw them as a public health concern, and focused on reducing the harms associated with drug use. By permitting “coffee shops” to openly sell marijuana, for instance, Dutch policymakers felt that they were isolating users from dealers who would also be selling cocaine alongside marijuana. Importantly, they were not alienating drug users from society, welcoming them to avail of medical and rehabilitative services.

Forty years later, despite these policies, the lifetime drug use prevalence in the Netherlands is no more than that of neighboring countries, and it has the lowest rate of injecting drug use in Europe. Meanwhile, in the US where billions of dollars have been spent on a “War on Drugs”, states like Oregon and Colorado are beginning to legalize or decriminalize medical and recreational marijuana, following the Netherlands’ lead.

***

The Dutch context, of course, is very different: euthanasia, abortion, and same-sex marriage have been legal here for decades - and what has worked for them may or may not work for us, given our own sociocultural, demographic, and economic circumstances. The Dutch drug policy, moreover, is not without its problems and challenges - such as dealing with increasingly more potent varieties of cannabis, and the tenacious presence of an illegal drug trade.

Nonetheless, the Dutch experience on drugs should call into question the policies we have been unreflectingly following all these years. If, as a Mayo Clinic study demonstrated, marijuana poses less risk (9%) in developing dependence compared to “legal addictions” like nicotine (32%) and alcohol (15%), why impose such a heavy penalty for its users? If, as Canadian researchers have found, it is a safe and effective treatment for chronic pain relief, why ignore its potential health benefits?

We need an open and vigorous conversation about drugs. Not because someone like me can freely smoke marijuana in Amsterdam, but because many are smoking it in the Philippines, and they - along with those who seek its potential health benefits - are needlessly suffering the consequences of laws that don’t make sense.