These are days of anticipation for many Filipinos. Today, Chief Justice Renato Corona will testify before the Senate impeachment trial, that is, if he keeps his word. Perhaps then we will finally get to the bottom of his allegedly hidden wealth—be it in dollars or pesos—and why such monies aren’t reflected in his statements of assets, liabilities and net worth, as required by law.
Me, I’m more interested in getting a glimpse of the Chief Justice’s character. Whenever we’ve heard from Corona lately, it was only in such “safe” venues as self-arranged interviews, speeches and press conferences. I’m interested in seeing him testify before the Senate hearing, before lawyers from both the defense and prosecution, and before senators sitting as judges, bringing their own personal biases in their task of judging him, and before the public following the televised coverage of the trial.
Mostly, I am interested in finding out if Corona will let his real self shine through, freed from the need to maintain an image of aggrieved innocence, and from the instinct of self-preservation. Of course, he will maintain the elaborate façade he has built over the years and the past few months, trying to convince the Filipino people that he has done nothing wrong, that the trial is all part of the administration’s scheme to punish him for backing the wrong patron. But I will be watching tomorrow just in case the Chief Justice lets the mask slip for a moment, tells the truth even if it should prove harmful to his case, and sheds light on his complex web of financial dealings.
Of course, none of these may happen at all. Corona may even end up satisfactorily explaining his deposits and the trail of his bank transactions. But to vindicate himself, he will have to show up and face the music. No appearance has ever been so anticipated, and regardless of how his performance pans out, the most important thing is that he spoke for himself and faced the judges.
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Another much-anticipated day is the finals of “American Idol.” The event has gained almost epic significance, if only for Filipinos, because it pits a tiny singer (who loves her sky-high stilettos) against a guitar-wielding music-maker who has built an “indie” image for himself. That the tiny warbler is half-Filipino has made all the difference in how we perceive the importance of the match.
That Jessica Sanchez was born of a Filipina mother and Mexican father is only part of her journey toward eventual “AI” glory. True, Filipinos here and abroad, but especially in the United States, have embraced her and proudly claim her as their own. But we wouldn’t have done so if she didn’t have enormous talent to back the patriotic appeal. We are proud of her because she has done us proud, filling the “AI” stage with a show of musical skill and emotional immediacy week after week. Even her near-elimination and “save” by the judges failed to dim her artistic brilliance. And no amount of grimacing and pa-cute antics of Phillip Phillips directed at his largely teenage female fan base can change our conviction that, all things being equal, Jessica is the rightful winner.
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This brings me to how we Filipinos always seem to need “heroes” to bolster our self-esteem and make us feel proud to face the rest of the world.
Before 16-year-old Jessica Sanchez stepped out in her stilettos and blew us away with her vocal chops and artistic daring, we had Manny Pacquiao in our national pantheon, the country coming to a stop whenever he had a fight, be it for another title in a new weight class, or just for millions in prize money.
We love both of them for much the same thing: for their personal excellence and their ability to compete with other players on the world stage. That they made no bones about their Filipino
origins and roots only added to their appeal.
Of course, we have also had other performers and athletes of great appeal. Charice, before she transformed into a sullen, hip-hop version of her once sweet self, was embraced as an artist who made it in Hollywood. Lea Salonga, along with the other “Miss Saigon” artists who’ve made their mark in the international scene, filled our hearts with pride and glory. Teams like the Azkals and the Philippine Volcanoes, even as they continue to struggle against other teams of countries with far more experience and exposure to football and rugby, bring honor to the flag.
This is all well and good. They and other Filipinos who take part and win in international competitions have proven to be worthy models and deserve our praise and accolades. But when do we stop feeling this hunger for heroes and instead begin to feel pride in ourselves simply because we are Filipinos? When will nationalism and national pride become natural reactions and ever-present emotions, instead of having to be whipped up whenever one of us makes good?
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And as a footnote, Lady Gaga may not whip up nationalistic fervor in us (I doubt that she’s interested, anyway), but I hope that in her concert last night and tonight, she did perform “Judas,” the song that protesters said should be banned because it offends the sensibilities of Filipinos.
Who are these Filipinos, pray tell? I know some fanatic religious groups have staged protests and called Lady Gaga all sorts of names, but they in no way represent all Filipinos—or even a sizeable number of us. Why can’t they respect the right of performers to artistic expression, and stop imposing their own version of morality and moral judgment on us?
If they’re lucky, Lady Gaga might even write a song about them.