The Long View
Resistance isn’t futile
By Manuel L. Quezon III
Philippine Daily Inquirer
First Posted 23:53:00 04/16/2008
A blogger, The Marocharim Experiment, penned these eloquent words on March 27: “If you remain blind to the crimes, the shortcomings, and the betrayals of this government, you do nothing but to concede and to consent and to tolerate what we have now. In this ‘free country,’ we do not have the right to information: The Supreme Court of the Philippines has just ruled in favor of Sec. Romulo Neri invoking ‘executive privilege’ on the ZTE national broadband network (NBN) deal, paralyzing our common search for truth. In this ‘booming economy,’ there are many of us who do not reap the rewards of what is supposed to be a stronger peso. In this country ‘governed by the rule of law,’ the President circumvents it by passing executive orders against dissent and criticism.”
“Which basically means that we are not free. Our economy is not booming. Our country is governed not by law, certainly not by justice, but by a disregard for the law and a disavowal of justice.”
He concluded his entry by saying, “If you value your freedom, if you value your country, if you value the next generation, you will resist now. The next generation cannot—and it will not—wait for you to expect them to do something about it.”
“I do not know how you will do it,” he concluded. “I know how I’m going to do it: As long as I write here, as long as my wrists do not give way, as long as I can, I will resist.”
Another blogger, Brown SEO, earlier went a step further by launching “Oplan evil 200,” which, he said, is a simple demonstration of resistance. Whenever the blogger gets hold of a P200 bill, “I draw horns and a tail and write the words ‘EVIL’ on the picture of GMA [Gloria Macapagal-Arroyo] being sworn to office in EDSA [People Power] II. The rationale behind it is simple: I’d like to let the people know that the person in the money doesn’t deserve to be in it. As I see it the money was used for propaganda and it is a symbolic approach to power in the hands of everybody.”
But scribbling political messages on currency is apparently against the law. I don’t know if Brown SEO knows that, but something tells me the blogger doesn’t care. And it seems that quite a few Filipinos don’t care, either. Just the other day, a P100 bill crossed my path, which had a pretty scurrilous message aimed at the President’s husband on it. I’ve seen a few P200 bills which didn’t have “evil” written on them, but which instead quoted the now infamous words of Joey Salceda concerning the President. The most creative graffiti I encountered was a P500. It showed tears streaming down Ninoy Aquino’s cheeks and the comment, “EDSA: betrayed.”
Scribbling on bills is a form of civil disobedience—of resistance to the government. You may have noticed Mahar Mangahas’ interesting column the other day, which revealed that we Filipinos prefer civil disobedience to protest actions. But we Filipinos prefer anonymous civil disobedience, the kind that gives us self-satisfaction but doesn’t directly confront authority.
Which is different from the civil disobedience Gandhi thought up “Satyagraha,” composed of these key elements. “Sat:” which implies openness, honesty, and fairness: Truth. “Ahimsa”: refusal to inflict injury on others. “Tapasya”: willingness for self-sacrifice. As a commentary in the Gandhi Museum website puts it, “Now, what happens if those people begin to say, ‘We’re not afraid of prison. We’re even willing to die. But we’re not willing to obey you any longer.’…It’s very simple. The tyrant has no power. He may rant and scream and hurt and destroy—but if the people hold to it, he’s finished.”
Have you read Martin Luther King’s “Letter from a Birmingham jail”? In this letter, King says: “In any nonviolent campaign there are four basic steps: (1) Collection of the facts to determine whether injustices are alive. (2) Negotiation. (3) Self-purification and (4) Direct action.”
These were principles which Ninoy Aquino promoted after he flirted with the idea of a guerrilla movement against Marcos.
Violent resistance, Gandhi, King and Aquino realized, causes more problems than it solves. Nonviolent resistance, however, confers moral ascendancy on those who resist: It purifies even as it liberates. Filipinos after the defeat of our Revolution and in the Filipino-American War (think of the allegorical symbols of resistance in turn-of-the century zarzuelas), during the Japanese Occupation (think of Filipinos bowing to Japanese sentries and muttering “kabayo” [horse] and later against Ferdinand Marcos (“Sa ikauunlad ng bayan, bisikleta ang kailangan”), drew strength from nonviolent resistance.
It’s a start, and maybe all that the powerless can ever do. But shouldn’t it lead to more?
King addresses the dilemma at the heart of civil disobedience: “One may well ask: ‘How can you advocate breaking some laws and obeying others?’ The answer is found in the fact that there are two types of laws: There are just and there are unjust laws. I would agree with Saint Augustine that ‘An unjust law is no law at all.’”
“Now, what is the difference between the two?” King asks. How does one determine when a law is just or unjust? A just law is a man-made code that squares with the moral law or the law of God. An unjust law is a code that is out of harmony with the moral law. To put it in the terms of Saint Thomas Aquinas, an unjust law is a human law that is not rooted in eternal and natural law. Any law that uplifts human personality is just. Any law that degrades human personality is unjust.”
We all know a simple expression of this: What is legal isn’t necessarily what is right. And if it isn’t right—then you should resist. Personally, I do it by vigorously blowing my horn at every official convoy that crosses my path. Then refusing to give way.
|
