The fog of grief’
There is, of course, grief, anger, frustration and the entire gamut of emotions that follow a tragedy.
But we need only scratch the surface of our public sentiments—as doubtless the “Mamasapano massacre” of Philippine National Police-Special Action Force troopers has done—before our virulent anti-Moro sentiments come gushing out. These are sentiments born of centuries of indoctrination, of annual “Moro-Moro” plays to glorify the Christian campaign against the Muslims (somehow connected to the crucifixion), of lingering suspicions against the “villainous” and “untrustworthy” Moros, the “othering” of a people who do not share our faith or our culture.
We have, in the last few years especially, tried to hide our raw feelings and deep distrust of the Moro community, burying these beneath the surface of civility and political correctness. With peace talks running apace, and a Bangsamoro Basic Law in the works, we, but especially our leaders and politicians and commentators, have kept our language and demeanor circumspect, not wishing to offend.
But given one incident—and admittedly, the killings and alleged mutilation of the dead have been quite a provocation—then all gloves are off. Politicians fall all over themselves to be first at the line to denounce not just the killings but also the accused perpetrators, threatening to jettison all the years of careful peace-building. Media commentators carelessly throw epithets and resurrect all the hoary clichés about treacherous Moros. Why, even former president and Manila Mayor Erap Estrada goes on a publicity campaign to tout the “superiority” of his approach to the Moro insurgency—the “total war” that succeeded in closing down the camps of the Moro Islamic Liberation Front, true, but also created a vast humanitarian emergency with thousands of civilians fleeing their homes and settlements, dodging gunfire and missiles.
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AGAINST this cacophony of brash talk and blame, few voices are raised to counsel reason, reasonability, sanity and charity.
These days, even the mere mention of peace is met with hostility, with accusations of “pandering” to the enemy, even if the “enemy” are fellow Filipinos.
Fr. Joel Tabora, SJ, in his blog reflecting on the tragedy of Mamasapano, asks all of us to broaden the margins of our hearts:
“The President has called for a day of mourning for those who perished in Mamasapano. When we fly our flags at half [staff] on Friday (today), and call upon the God whom we know to be merciful and compassionate, I shall be mourning the deaths of the policemen who died on mission to serve warrants of arrest on known terrorists. But I shall also be mourning the deaths of the members of the MILF and of the BIFF who perished in the same encounter. I shall mourn them, Filipinos all, driven to foolhardy carnage or savage violence by obedience, ignorance, recklessness or fear. In silence, I will pray for peace.
“I will also pray that we not be deterred from the path of peace. This has been an arduous path travelled with much sacrifice and pain. But it is the only way of hope.”
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I DO not see how abandoning the move to pass the BBL, thus destroying any hopes for a lasting peace with the Bangsamoro, would honor the 44 dead PNP-SAF men, much less the fighters with the MILF and the Bangsamoro Islamic Freedom Fighters who perished along with them.
With other public figures, I join the call for an investigation into the circumstances that led to the carnage in Mamasapano. I, too, would like justice to prevail, an impartial look at the factors that created what Interior Secretary Mar Roxas called “the fog of war,” and assign blame where blame rightly belongs.
But we cannot have that fair hearing in the midst of the heated atmosphere prevailing today. And everyone with a public profile—government or media—would do well to tone down the rhetoric, to dial down the fury, to “get the other side” in pursuit of the most basic calling of our journalistic duty.
And perhaps it’s time, too, to admit to our prejudices, and to recognize how these could color our judgments and reactions. And knowing these, be more conscious of our motivations, and seek to unravel the complications of the history behind the tangled mess that now prevails in Mindanao.
We could read more, study the history, and better yet talk with the people—with Muslims who’ve inherited the legacy of grievance and hurt, but also with people who live in Mindanao and who live intimately with the Muslim community and know the daily tension and apprehension that years of armed violence have wrought.
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IT IS not just the BBL or the peace agreement that is at stake here. At stake, too, is the peace we as a people and nation have striven to achieve, the future we had hoped to build in Mindanao and elsewhere in the country.
Haven’t we had enough of war and killing? Wasn’t the death of Filipinos—police and past and present rebels alike—enough of an incentive to us to continue to follow the path of peace and reconciliation? To escalate the conflict because of our “fog of grief” would be the biggest disservice to the sacrifice of all those who died in Mamasapano.
And as Father Tabora cautions, passage of the BBL, far from being derailed, should all the more be pursued with force and determination. “On the contrary,” he says, the tragedy “makes its passage—through ‘the wisdom of the Congress of the Philippines’—more urgent. Here, we need the wise legislator, the statesman obedient to the common weal. This is a longstanding debt to the Filipino Muslims in justice. We owe it to them in respect.
We have agreed to this. We owe it to them in self-respect.”
