War veterans of COVID-19

I was in the Medical City in Pasig yesterday afternoon (Wednesday) for a prostate and kidney ultrasound. At around 4 p.m., the public address system for the whole hospital came alive with the calm, measured voice of the hospital director. The speaker reported that the hospital has been in the forefront of fighting COVID-19. He said he was proud of how the hospital has risen to the challenge of the pandemic. The hospital and its staff have performed well in giving their patients the kind of care they deserve. Like a commander taking stock of the equipment and morale of his troops, he said that fewer staff were falling victim to COVID-19. The hospital and its staff have learned to protect themselves. He was confident that the hospital and its personnel will continue serving the people. Then he went into the “We can do this!” spiel that elicited claps and cheers from the staff—at least in the radiology department where I was being tested. It was such a rare, almost forgotten experience for me. I miss being inspired by a president.

Because the national health and logistics system is beleaguered, the fight against COVID-19 has become something of a guerrilla war. The Commander in Chief has confessed on late-night television that he is at his wits’ end where to source the resources to fight COVID-19. He is of course talking about logistical resources, not the leadership and the psychological, even spiritual, resources that could tremendously improve the situation.

Some local government jurisdictions are “liberated areas”—their local chief executives inspiring their people, making them proud, and when the crunch comes, likely able to sustain social discipline amid the prospect of mass hunger. These exemplary local chief executives are those who use systems thinking, not savior thinking, to address the problem of ensuring the transparent and equitable sharing of resources. They are also the ones best able to tap into the reservoir of social capital that is ever present in any community.

The interactions that define the nation today are so horizontal — people of different ages and political persuasions interacting in the common present space, aided by the internet, computers, and smartphones. There is a shallow perspective on Filipino nationalism, camouflaged by the sense of many people that they have 360-degree awareness as a result of 24/7 access to Facebook and Twitter.

There is insufficient encouragement for people to go “vertical” — to go back in time and interact with the Filipino greats who inspired the people during their time with immortal words. Well, not too many young Filipinos nowadays know about these immortal words that have been handed down for generations.

I’ve lived long enough to be able to imagine how it is to belong to a proud country. I write this piece on April 9, Araw ng Kagitingan. This was such a significant commemoration in the 1950s and the 1960s. The resistance to Ferdinand Marcos’ martial rule eclipsed it. Now, as we face the COVID-19 pandemic, complicated by a populist infatuation with a messiah figure, the heroism of old has become even more distant.

If it were up to me, I would make it a requirement for senior high school students to go to the Capas National Shrine where more than 30,000 Filipino and American soldiers are interred — casualties of the Death March and the brutal captivity of 60,600 Filipinos and 9,900 Americans. The solemnity of such a visit is ensured by poignant passages, such as the words of World War II veteran and writer Amador Daguio inscribed in marble:

And when the world shall wake again
From grim decay to growth and beauty,
Let no one ever know my pain,
But I have done my humble duty.

But that was heroism in the past. The Philippines needs a more contemporary, massive, heart-rending, fearsome challenge to test and sustain its core essence as a nation. The COVID-19 pandemic is that opportunity. Someday soon when this pandemic is over, we will need to look back on those veterans of the war — health workers and fighters, national and local leaders, private citizens—who have earned the right to claim, in Daguio’s words: “And when the world shall wake from grim decay to growth and beauty, let no one ever know my pain, but I have done my humble duty.”

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