Turning 30
Not me. I turned 30 more than 30 years ago.
It’s the Philippine Daily Inquirer’s turning 30 that’s been on my mind, in part because I missed the anniversary celebrations, being on an overseas assignment.
Several of our daily newspapers today carry old names familiar to older Filipinos—for example, the Manila Bulletin, the Manila Times. The Inquirer is from a more recent era. Imagine a whole generation of Filipinos who have not known a “pre-Inquirer” era. Under martial law, declared in 1972, the government muzzled what was once Asia’s freest press. Underground papers, mainly from the National Democratic Front and the Communist Party of the Philippines, were produced throughout the dictatorship, but circulation was limited. It was a surreal era, where you could witness or participate in a huge protest rally and yet read nothing and hear nothing about it in the papers, TV or radio.
“Semi-legal” papers began to appear as early as 1975, notably the Association of Major Religious Superiors in the Philippines’ Various Reports, renamed Signs of the Times, comprising mainly reprints of articles from banned foreign periodicals, as well as reports from the Catholic and Protestant churches’ social action networks about human rights violations. Signs of the Times was mimeographed (younger readers will have to ask their grandparents what that means), and was supposedly intended only for distribution to religious congregations.
We Forum, a tabloid in Filipino, was established in 1976, coming out three times a week and becoming bolder with time. It was shut down by the government in 1983, the year Benigno “Ninoy” Aquino Jr. was assassinated, sparking an economic and political crisis. Ironically, martial law was “lifted” in 1981, but the assassination resulted in the unleashing of many pent-up emotions against the government, leading to the emergence of the “mosquito press,” a term attributed to Marcos who dismissed the small but vocal newspapers as minor irritants, like mosquitoes.
Apostol’s Mr&Ms
Eugenia Apostol put up Mr&Ms Special Edition in 1983 right after the Aquino assassination, its first issue selling some 750,000 copies. When the trial of the assassination suspects started, Apostol put up the Philippine Inquirer, which eventually became the Philippine Daily Inquirer.
A pre-Inquirer era was one of censorship, rumors, and still some fear. It was hard to predict what “subversive” meant. Nestor Castro, currently the University of the Philippines Diliman’s vice chancellor for student affairs, told me recently that when he was arrested and tried for subversion during martial law, soldiers presented as “evidence” of his “crime” a tape of songs by the group Asin. Never mind that you could buy the tape in department stores.
I was used to radical underground papers, so I would laugh when older relatives warned me not to carry around Mr&Ms but would then ask to borrow the magazine to read. By the time the Philippine Daily Inquirer came around, people were ready for the return of a bold Philippine press.
It would be interesting to interview an “Inquirer generation” of Filipinos who grew up with the newspaper at home. The Inquirer has in fact evolved into a family newspaper, with a growing number of detachable sections that older readers complain about because they end up not being able to find a particular news item they read earlier, and fretting if maybe the Inquirer came up with a Section Z which was misplaced.
If you go through the sections you’ll find that the Inquirer does try to cater to younger readers. Some are serious stuff on education and science; most tend to be of lighter fare, with a strong consumerist push.
Then there’s the wonderful Young Blood columns started during the term of then Opinion editor Jorge Aruta. Several “Best of Young Blood” anthologies have since been published. A geriatric version, High Blood, draws its often fair share of older writers, but that’s about it for senior citizens. I’m biased, being a senior citizen myself, but the Inquirer and other mass media outfits should recognize there’s a “gray peso” out there that’s untapped: older people with spending power, into nostalgia, including political nostalgia, and hungry for news about wise investments, healthy retirement and, simply, enjoying life. It will have to be of a different format, starting with larger print.
Meanwhile, I really wonder how much of a young readership there is for the Inquirer. My university students will refer to the Inquirer but will say they read it online, and not on a regular basis, the Inquirer now having to compete with Rappler and other online media.
30 and maturity
I’ve thought, too, about the meanings of 30 for the Inquirer. I remember when I was very young, the prospects of turning 30 were almost depressing, with people over 30 perceived as being old. I actually had a minor midlife crisis of sorts when I turned 30, still trying to finish my MA and fretting that nothing good was going to come out of my life.
Thirty is indeed midlife when you consider that life expectancy in the past was very low and living to 60 was considered a major accomplishment. At 30, you were supposed to have physically and mentally matured, ready to face life full speed. Jesus was supposed to have started preaching at that age, and I wouldn’t be surprised if people like Jose Rizal also grappled with existential questions about their lives when they reached that age.
In the past, to be unmarried at 30 drew some stigma, almost like you were destined to being single forever. People married then in their 20s, many even in their teens. Today, 30 is a new horizon, an age associated with stability, and an age to settle down and start a family.
We could say that 60 is the new young today, so our expectations of the Inquirer can be somewhat tempered. On the other hand, the Inquirer was born in politically turbulent times, practically forced to become precocious. The Inquirer is an old soul and should reflect wisdom picked up in the most difficult of times, offering cutting-edge views that do not always follow the conventional.
Settle down? I’m not sure what that would mean for a newspaper, but I do find, too, many younger Filipinos not quite feeling as pressured about turning 30, still wanting to take in more of the world. I’d like to think the Inquirer is entitled to continue to be some sort of a new vagabond, roaming the nation, roaming the world, not as a bum but as a crusader of sorts, fighting for good, always the inquirer.
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