The Ramon Magsaysay Awards, Asia’s Nobel, announced six new recipients of its esteemed recognition last Thursday. Two are from the Philippines—Lilia de Lima, the former director general of the Philippine Economic Zone Authority, and the Philippine Educational Theater Association, a homegrown theater company that, this year, celebrates its 50th anniversary.
What made initial ripples on social media in the wake of the announcement was the faux tempest that arose from the mention of De Lima. A number of partisan observers mistakenly thought the Ramon Magsaysay Award Foundation (RMAF) had had the temerity to extol the Duterte administration’s bête noire, the imprisoned Sen. Leila de Lima, with “Asia’s highest honor,” and so bombarded news sites with typical vitriol. It was Lilia de Lima and not Leila, of course—two completely different persons, the former lauded by the RMAF for her impressive track record in championing the establishment of export processing zones all over the country as catalysts of economic progress.
The other Filipino awardee was special in its own right. Neither a proper NGO involved in popular civic campaigns such as poverty alleviation or environmental protection, nor an entity directly involved in public policy, governance or leadership, Peta was nevertheless deemed deserving of this premier prize for the thoroughly unique proposition of its track record over the last five decades: as a theater company that has devoted its art to people empowerment and social uplift.
As the RMAF explained in its citation: “The power of the arts to raise awareness, shape identities, impel action, and change societies is a truth commonly acknowledged, yet it is not always evident. In the Philippines, no theater company has been as committed and effective for so long in demonstrating this truth as the Philippine Educational Theater Association.”
More: “Working out of a theater in the old ruins of Intramuros, Manila, this nonprofit organization rose to prominence with groundbreaking productions in Filipino, the national language, that were remarkable for their artistry and social relevance, at a time of resurgent nationalism and deepening political crisis in the country. After Martial Law was declared, Peta stayed active, together with other groups, in staging theater as a medium for protest and conscientization even under a dictatorship. By the time democracy was restored in 1986, Peta had built a fund of experience, knowledge, and skills to respond to new and continuing challenges, staying true to its vision of a ‘people’s theater’ directly engaged with the realities of the time.”
Peta is the first to admit it wasn’t always bold and defiant. At the height of martial law, warned that it was in the military’s sights as an antigovernment organization, it ventured into less provocative material. But as stalwart members Joel Lamangan, Mae Paner and the recently departed Soxie Topacio rollickingly revealed during Peta’s 50th anniversary concert last April, after Ninoy Aquino’s assassination in 1983 Peta resolved to gird itself like the rest of the country and take part in the parliament of the streets. Lamangan and Paner and many others ended up in jail; at one rally, Lamangan recalled, “ang saya ko dahil natalon ko ang mga paso dyan sa may US Embassy, pero nahuli pa din ako” (I was happy that I had escaped the police by jumping over the plants boxes outside the US Embassy, but I still got caught).
How many theater companies can claim to have played a historic role in the people’s struggle for freedom? Peta can. Today, with show after show, it continues to be a vanguard for seemingly increasingly endangered values such as liberty, social justice and progressive thought. In this unstinting, proudly Filipino work by committed local artists, the Ramon Magsaysay Awards has chosen an out-of-the-box but most worthy awardee.