Jaguar’s funeral
Lately, the media have been full of reports on funerals, mainly of suspected drug lords killed by law enforcers.
I am not sure what the intentions are in giving prominent coverage to these funerals. It could be interpreted to be part of a larger media blitz to show that “change is coming” on June 30—that’s tomorrow!—in the form of the incoming administration, what with the police literally jumping the gun by going after suspected drug lords and pushers.
There have been so many killings of late that even President-elect Rodrigo Duterte has expressed suspicion that some of these killings might be rubouts: the police getting nervous about criminals who might spill the beans on their friends, if not bosses, in the uniformed ranks.
The funerals could send the message that the new administration is serious. And maybe the message has some effect, what with one drug lord—“Barok”—turning himself in and offering to divulge information on his erstwhile crime buddies. Barok was, again, jumping the gun, but in a different sense. He was giving himself up before he got gunned down.
What does dismay me, though, is that the funerals of the drug lords seem to attract fairly large numbers of mourners. Perhaps the most dismaying was the funeral of the drug lord “Jaguar” in Cebu early this week. The video footage showed thousands of people—2,500 by one estimate—in attendance, many wearing T-shirts emblazoned with the dead man’s image and messages that read “Jeffrey ‘Jaguar’ Diaz: We Will Miss You” and “We Love You.”
The police said many of the “mourners,” and even the pallbearers, were paid to attend the funeral. I wouldn’t be surprised, too, if many were just curious onlookers.
‘Mabait’
But I have an uneasy feeling about the idea that there were people who mourned Jaguar and others like him. Quick interviews had the mourners using the word “mabait”—kind—to describe the drug lords, and telling stories about their generosity, usually around Christmas, and during times of need, such as when a family member was ill. There was also talk of money being given to neighbors and friends so they could start a small business.
The community knows who the drug lord is: One TV report showed the “mansion” of a drug lord in an urban poor area. It wasn’t actually a mansion, just a house much larger than the slum dwellings. The people know who he is, and they approach him for help.
I remember that about 20 years ago in Malate, Manila, I got up early and went to get some groceries. One of the storekeepers shouted to me that a policeman covering our area was shot to death the night before.
The storekeeper said it was such a pity, he was such a kind man: “Kawawa naman, ang bait-bait naman niya.”
When I asked for details of the killing, I was told it happened early in the evening when the policeman was making the rounds: “nangongolekta.” I realized that the mabait and well-loved policeman was going around collecting “tong” or protection money when he was attacked. Put crudely, he was extorting money, and was liquidated. Who did it was anyone’s guess—communist hit men, fellow policemen, criminals, maybe even someone with a personal vendetta that had nothing to do with his extortion. Too, fatal love triangles are all too common in our tropical gothic landscape.
The Cebu Sun Star Daily’s coverage of Jaguar’s funeral elicited many comments from readers, expressed in emotional Cebuano, mostly asking why this man was being idolized. How could people love a man who made his living with drugs that destroyed lives?
One comment struck me: “These are probably the same people who voted for Duterte”—a statement meant as an attack on the poor.
I’ve thought about it and I’ll say I wouldn’t be surprised if Filipinos, not limited to the poor, do have this ambivalence—on one hand appreciating (not idolizing) the “kindness” or blighted benevolence of criminals (including, may I remind you, politicians who plunder), and on the other hand wanting an end to drug trafficking, street crime, rape, and, of course, the big C (corruption).
Honor in dishonor
There is no contradiction here in the minds of many people. In a sense, people think of these criminals as stealing with one hand and giving back with the other: Robin Hood. This is especially strong with regard to drug lords who come from the community, often a neighbor, a childhood friend, as poor as themselves.
On the other hand, I sense that there is much more anger at, and no sympathies for, alleged pork barrel queen Janet Napoles, who is seen as plundering too much and not giving anything back, even being miserly with her underlings including the cousin who ultimately turned whistle-blower.
Honor among thieves is still important.
The new administration will have to deal with these messy contradictions. People want to be rid of the scum of the earth, except if that scum is a neighbor, a friend… or, the gods forbid, a relative.
The contradictions could not have been better captured than in one TV report about a funeral, complete with the hysterical mourning of wife and children. I was almost ashamed to watch as the widow screamed to the cemetery workers not to seal the tomb: “Huwag mong isara, huwag mong isara!”
The cameras focused on a woman in the slum, sneering and looking almost sinister. “Hindi siya dapat nagsumbong,” she said of the dead man. He should not have blown the whistle. Then she repeated herself.
The look on her face terrified me, and reminded me of how complicated the work is going to be for Duterte, his new national police chief, and the rest of the get-tough guys.
They get tough and some people may initially rejoice and see it as change that has indeed arrived. They get tougher and there will be fear, mixed with many other emotions, including doubt, maybe resentment.
The killings are made in the name of the law. The responses of the people will, in time, return to a longing for the rule of law.
* * *
