“Aktibista ka na ba?” I cannot count the number of times I have been asked this question, which usually follows the “Kamusta sa UP?” greeting. Once people know I am a student from UP, they immediately assume that I am “tibak,” as activists are called in this part of the country. It’s funny how people readily attach the aktibista label to UP students, as if each one of them is ever ready to join picket lines, rallies and street protests for whatever cause or advocacy. I’ve even heard people say, “Napaka OA (overacting) ng mga tao sa UP, rally nang rally wala naman silang napapala” (How OA these UP people are, they go to endless rallies and for naught). Truth is, I used to have such a mindset.
I guess studying in a conservative private school from nursery to high school largely contributed to my views back then. I didn’t care about what was happening to other people or to our country or to the rest of mankind. I was oblivious of the “outside world.” But all that changed when I entered UP.
I had my first encounter with this rally thing that a lot of people had warned me about right in my first few days in UP, before I could begin to feel at home there. Indeed, strikes and rallies are commonplace in this university. You’d see them even on building corridors, advocating different causes. And the campus itself abounds with posters calling for “Justice for …, ” or proclaiming “No to…,” among other things. And from time to time, activist-students go from room to room, persuading students to join strikes, walkouts and whatnots. All this is considered—and has been accepted—as part of the whole UP experience, of UP tradition.
At one point during my first week in UP, I thought, “Paulit-ulit lang sila, wala namang nangyayari” (They’ve been at it again and again, but nothing happens). But as the semester went on and I got to know more and more people from different walks of life, I began to see where this activism, this angst, was coming from. Some of the students give their all just to remain “iskolar ng bayan”—they seem so financially hard-up they don’t know where to source the funds for their next tuition payment, but wouldn’t allow any obstacle to prevent them from asserting their right to education. Then you realize that they go on rallies against the cuts in the education budget not because “OA sila,” but because they are directly affected. Just a few weeks ago, UP students, including even those who could afford paying the higher “brackets A and B” tuition fees, joined by many faculty members and administrative personnel, went on strike to protest the education budget cuts. So, who says that the youth of today are an indifferent lot that doesn’t give a hoot about what is happening in the country?
This we ask President Aquino: Whatever happened to the so-called “matuwid na daan”? And where is it leading to? How can we build this straight path when quality education, an essential ingredient in the mixture needed to construct it, is not within the reach of every Filipino? What will be the future of this country, when the youth, the future leaders of our country, the hope of the motherland, can’t get quality education because of poverty?
Going back to the question, “Aktibista ka na ba?” The answer is, maybe. Not the noisy, placard-waving, street marching kind perhaps, but the “I-can-and-will-do-something-to-create-change-in-our-country” type. This, I believe, is what real activism is—one that is not limited to street protests, rallies and pickets. For in its truest form and essence, activism is a commitment to effect social change for the better in the service of the people. And in this sense, every UP student should be a tibak.
Marion Nicole A. Manalo, 17, is a first year BA Political Science
student at the University of the Philippines in Diliman, Quezon City.