james.soriano

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PUBLISHED: Student & Campus Section, Manila Bulletin, 31 July 2008 Issue (page F-3)

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Last Friday, I found myself sitting outside the school library with a couple of classmates. The day was ending and I was sharing the story of how I used to take up karate. “Sige nga,” they said, after my story, “show us one of your kicks!”

I chose one of the white pillars near the entrance as my hapless victim. I faced it. I bowed. Put on the standard stance. And without warning, gave it a high kick. WHACK!

“Boss, pumunta nga kayo dito at patingin ng ID.” That was the voice of the security guard who was surreptitiously standing behind me.

That was the story of how I got my first violation of the school-year: vandalism. Why? My shoe stained the pillar. Couldn’t I just clean it myself? No. Okay, then what sanctions do I get? He wouldn’t say.

After the conversation, I didn’t know who I wanted to kick—him, for being so unfriendly, or me, for being so stupid.

On one hand, he did have a point. On the other hand, if I kicked something else (say, a tree) or if I kicked it somewhere else (say, some other university), I probably wouldn’t have been punished. Maybe that’s why it seemed so legalistic.

I understand that laws are meant to establish order in a society. In my case, it was sending the message that if I did that “bad” thing again, I would pay for it. Therefore, other people wouldn’t follow my example. Fair enough. Except that people wouldn’t follow my example to begin with. People don’t ordinarily kick pillars for fun.

It’s not that I blame my school for being too strict, or the security guard for doing his job. People get punished for being ignorant. In any kind of setting, it’s always the person’s duty to know about the rules.

The problem arises when the rules are not clear, and the implementers are given wide latitude of discretion.

Ideally, the way for you to defend yourself when faced in a situation like mine is to explain your side of the rules, being an informed and responsible member of the community. But what if the rules aren’t clear? Worse, what if the person apprehending you is looking to take advantage of you—do you think he’ll listen?

Outside of a school setting, you would probably go to a lawyer. Except if it’s a small infraction, it’s probably not worth the effort. And when it’s a big infraction—well, let’s just hope you’re not against the son of some politician, or the politician himself. Otherwise, it’s better to give it up.

The tragedy of it all is that this takes place in a country where most people are marginalized. Usually, these people have no faith in the system. Faith being non-existent, people could end up resorting to easier, illegitimate means, knowing the risks.

This, in turn, gives birth to a bastardized version of the system, and nourishes it.

For example, I’ve always wondered why certain government branches accept bribes from people in exchange for an easier time. Is it because our governments are inherently oppressive and evil, or because we continue paying the bribes? I don’t know.

But whether or not I do, what scares me is the way wrong implementation has become normal to us. Bribing officers on the road seems to have become acceptable. In higher echelons, some people don’t give a second thought to bribing public officials if they get their way. It feels like with each bribe we pay and each corner we cut, our moral fabric as a society is twisting more and more into a mockery of what it should be. So that it’s the policemen who become the drug dealers, and the drug dealers who become our saviors.

The greater tragedy is that we don’t know who the good guys are anymore.

Honestly, I still don’t know who to kick. One side says I should kick myself, not necessarily for being uninformed, but for having a ‘lapse in judgment’. The other says I should kick the system for punishing me uselessly. Either way, it’s not like I have a choice but to go along with it. But since I wasn’t convinced that I was wrong, I’m not sure the rule lived up to its purpose.

Perhaps the greatest tragedy of all is that this early, I am confused as to what is right and what is wrong.

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PUBLISHED: Student & Campus Section, Manila Bulletin, 24 July 2008 Issue (page F-4)

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The past week began with a headline I read while randomly surfing the web for news: “Massachusetts Senate says ‘I do’ to gay marriage”.

The following day I was scheduled to watch a set of plays for Filipino class. By force of coincidence, the last play was about homosexuality, and it is interesting to note that many of my friends were traumatized by the kissing scene.

That night, I couldn’t sleep as ABS-CBN was showing a debate on gay marriage featuring Danton Remoto, the president of Ladlad.

The next day, I was asked to attend a lecture for English, and just right before I was informed that it was to be about transgender OFWs in Israel.

All of these made me think to myself, “Hey, this must be gay week.”

Whenever I told people that, they would laugh.

Most people, myself included at times, have an inconsistent attitude towards homosexuals. For example, they would say that they tolerate ‘bading’ people, but not when they dress up showily, or scream in titillated voices. Or, say, they would mind being alone with their guy best friends– but if the guy is gay, it’s different. There is a sense of discomfort, even fear, as if the person’s going to molest them or something.

Then, of course, there’s the way we laugh and joke about gay people in the same way we do racist jokes. There are so many situations where we seem to put a double standard on them that I’m beginning to wonder whether there is a valid reason for making a big deal out of gender.

But I guess it’s not really our fault that we think or feel this way. As a kid, I was a total homophobe. In school, I was taught that homosexuality was ‘unnatural’ (like God created them with some kind of disease), and that homosexual acts are ‘bad’ (meaning they are consigned to hell if they try to be true to themselves). Looking back, it sounds rather irrational. Should we point out their sexuality and therefore brand them as outcasts, instead of looking at the fact that they are, in essence, humans, just like ourselves?

It seems to me like being a homosexual, for most, would mean being consigned to a life of misery. Not only do we force them to repress their identities. We also box them into the roles they should play. We have reduced them to nothing more than caricatures, convenient images that we can laugh at, so that our image of a homosexual is of someone who looks and dresses like a clown.

And supposedly, we call ourselves ‘enlightened’.

This is why I laud developments that expand both the rights and roles of homosexuals. Like any other human being, they too deserve the right to be represented, the right to equal opportunities, and the right to be able to express and culminate their love.

But political developments are only one part of the picture. Much of the question that still needs to be answered lies in the minds of people and in the attitudes of society. But, like the struggle of the African-American movement and the feminists before them, these usually take much longer to change.

This brings back to mind the first time a friend opened up to me about his sexuality. That was back in high school, and I remember being initially shocked, even disgusted. Yet you realize that it does not change the kind of friend he was or the experiences that you shared. All that was different was that he liked guys, and that I liked girls. That was it.

And as I started to get know more and more of them, the more and more I found out that, in all the important things, like dreams and love and the pursuit of happiness, we are really all just the same.

Perhaps a question we can ask ourselves is: if the world were upside down, homosexuality was the norm, and you were the one considered as ‘queer’, would you still believe that you should be treated any differently, just because you were different?

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PUBLISHED: Student & Campus Section, Manila Bulletin, 17 July 2008 Issue (page G-3)

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There are many different reasons why we choose the courses we take up in college.Most people choose courses based on the careers that they think will make them successful.

Others choose courses that fulfill them, regardless of whether it’s lucrative.

Still, others choose courses not knowing what they really want, so that some of them eventually end up shifting from one course to another.

But no matter what the reason is, the most important thing is that you choose, for it is your future—your life—at stake.

But what if someone else did the choosing for you?

I think the reason I ask is because I’ve heard too many of my peers asking, “Why the hell am I in this course anyway?” Apparently, these people were pressured to take up courses they didn’t really want. I feel bad for them because they find themselves unable to get out in a rut that they didn’t even create.

Now, I don’t want to sound unfair by saying that the decision to take up an AB or a BS degree belongs exclusively to the student, and that other people, like parents, should not interfere with the process in any way. Obviously, a lot of considerations have to be made when it comes to career choice. And parents, in this case, can be very helpful.

But at the same time, it is also very difficult to draw the line. Parents can always impose their will on their children, on the presumption that they know better. This is where the classic conflict comes into play.

My parents want me to be a doctor, but I want to be a lawyer. I want to take up Political Science, but dad says I should be in Business Management. I really wanted to be an accountant, but mom put nursing in my college application; I didn’t want to go against her wishes.

On one hand, perhaps it is only fair. We do owe certain things to our parents. And when parents have put so much into the roads they predestined for us to take, we shouldn’t let them down. Or when families are in dire need of financial support, it is only right that we give back. Family, after all, is central to our values as a people.

But what bothers me is that it forces young people to either of two situations. The first is when you stay. While some people adapt effectively, others don’t. And when you don’t, you end up numbing yourself, usually with self-deception.

The second is when you eventually break down and shift. This scenario is riskier because it’s the kind of thing that causes rifts in families. Either way, they start out with an inherent disadvantage—unlike people like me, who were given the liberty to take up what we wanted.

Then again, maybe there’s some sense in giving up your dreams in lieu of what others dictate.

Yes, maybe. Some people have to give up what they could be, or what they want to be, and conform to what seems to be the safer option. And if we have anything going for us, it’s that our society supports such a mindset. After all, our educational system has always been demand-driven. Considering that our parents were formed under the same mentality, it is only reasonable to assume that they urge us to conform to it as well.

And then we ended up with an oversupply of nurses. But I digress.

There are many different reasons why we choose the courses that we do, but the most important thing is that we choose them. Other people shouldn’t be the ones making choices that shape our futures, using standards that are different from our own. Whether your parents agree with it or not, what matters is that you are certain of what you have chosen. Practical considerations are not the only determiners of success. And even then, success isn’t the sole measure of what makes a life meaningful anyway.

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PUBLISHED: Student & Campus Section, Manila Bulletin, 10 July 2008 Issue (page G-4)

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The 71st season of the UAAP kicked off last weekend with a match-up between the Montagues and Capulets of Philippine collegiate basketball: the Ateneo Blue Eagles and the De La Salle Green Archers.

While the game attracted the most hype, I thought it was a horrible slugfest characterized by missed shots and bad execution. Then again, I guess I could put a positive spin to it and use words like “epic” and “dramatic” to describe what transpired. After all, the teams were neck-to-neck until the final minute, and both sides gave outstanding efforts. In the end, however, the Blue Eagles won it with free throws and a key defensive play.

But it is not so much the result that I want to make a point about.

Rather, I want to talk about the spirit that animated everyone, from players to courtside spectators to spectators on couches. Ateneo-La Salle basketball games are always big events, whose tickets run out as soon as they start selling, and whose courtside seats are well-attended by the who’s-who in society.

Also, the games themselves seem to bring out something special in everyone. Fans of the same school cheer together when momentum is on their side, and get down on their knees to pray when it’s not. People, young and old alike, get on their feet when big plays are made. As one community, you feel either the exultation of victory, or the anguish of defeat. This is when I realize that it is here where the rivalry is at its best: when people come together to celebrate the spirit of competition.

And then, people go too far.

Any good rivalry has an element of respect. Ideally, after a spirited bout, both teams congratulate each other in the spirit of sportsmanship, and all traces of ill will are left on the court. It is, after all, nothing more than a sports rivalry.

Now I’m not saying that these institutions don’t have any respect for each other. Not everyone is a hooligan, and I’m sure that most people who come from either school have their share of friends, relatives, or business partners on the opposite side of the fence.

But I am saying that sometimes it gets a little out of hand.

We claim that the other side won because they paid the referees. We sour grape when one university ranks higher than the other. We reinforce stereotypes we have of people who come from the opposing school, so much so that it’s almost racism. There are instances in which we would prefer that our companies do not hire, or that our kids do not associate with, people coming from the other side. And it is here that I begin to ask myself: all this, for a sports rivalry?

Then again, this seems to be the way the world turns, anyway. The tendency is to discriminate on basis of irrelevant things like sex, skin color, or affiliation. And therefore, it really isn’t so strange that we do the same thing with athletic competition.

But when you think about it, it is precisely our history of making big deals out of differences that has turned our world into the way it is now. Racism still exists because we hold pre-conceived notions of other races. Religious intolerance still propagates because we like to emphasize that we’re on different paths, not that we’re on the same mountain. And the list goes on.

Which leads me to question, why did we have to complicate our lives this way?

Granted, any rivalry has its good and bad sides. And I guess it is a testament to people’s sanity that this one has remained in relatively the same place. But at the same time, some wounds still run deep. What I’m not so sure of is whether there is any real reason why this should still be the case. And it is then that I wonder at the capacity of people to make mountains out of molehills.

But that is not to take anything away from the fact that at its essence (meaning on the court), the Ateneo-La Salle rivalry is still something we can all look forward to and enjoy.

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PUBLISHED: Student & Campus Section, Manila Bulletin, 3 July 2008 Issue (page F-4)

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Everyone has some form of rude awakening as a college freshman. Usually, it comes in the form of a shockingly low score, a terror professor, or a reprimand for a rule that you never knew existed. Other times, though, it comes from the people around you, a.k.a. the upperclassmen. This was what happened exactly a week ago, when I found out that the term “bench culture” was not only used to refer to a Japanese method of increasing strawberry yields.

It was after a morning class. A couple of blockmates decided to meet up at a convenient spot where some empty benches were located. Empty as they were, the group sat on them. A few minutes later, a couple of upperclassmen sat next to the group. Shortly after, a friend got shoved off of the bench. Verbal abuse began flying in our direction. The group endured this for some time more while waiting for the last few people, but when they shoved another one off the bench, the block left.

A friendly upperclassman later told the block that the bench, apparently, belonged to a certain set of students.

Up to last week, I had never encountered “bench culture” as a phenomenon that existed beyond fictional American high schools often portrayed on film. But while I find it surprising that it exists in a university setting, I have nothing against it. People are entitled to their benches if it’s important to them.

What I don’t get is why they couldn’t have just come up to us and politely asked us to leave.

Instead, hurtful remarks, empty threats, and threatening glares were resorted to. While not necessarily civilized, yes, sometimes that’s effective. But isn’t there a better way of doing things? I mean, we’re all sensible, mature individuals, presumably. We can talk things over.

But maybe, just maybe, what happened merely mirrors the kind of society we grew up in. A society where such high premium is placed on “pakiramdaman”, and confrontation is generally frowned upon. And sometimes that’s a good thing. Some problems are better solved when left alone.

Other times, it’s the kind of thing that gets problems to fester like a cancerous pimple. That’s not to say, though, that we don’t know when a situation calls for talking things over. But it seems to me that we always tell ourselves that we’ll resolve our issues face-to-face “eventually, when the right time comes”- yet often kingdom comes faster than the right time does. And that’s when the pimple blows up.

But in real life, it’s a lot less clear-cut.

In college, a bench is something you sit on. Outside, benches are symbolic of norms, values, and accepted practices. Not all of them are sound, but it’s not always worth your skin trying to challenge them. Take for example the scenario of being pulled over by a policeman for a violation of traffic rules (presumably they exist in this country). Telling the policeman that he is the epitome of the social maladies that afflict the country would hardly lead anywhere productive. Let’s face it- we would rather pay him off and save the hassle of being late, not to mention recovering the license. Yet it is precisely when we keep silent about these things that they tend to propagate.

But everyone has some form of rude awakening as a college freshman. Usually it’s borne out of some sort of ignorance on our part. And like foreigners settling in a foreign country, it’s our job to find out and adapt to the prevalent culture.

But when rules are unwritten, it’s not good to expect us to read what we can’t see. That is how things get lost in translation. Like when people don’t respect the “bench culture” because they don’t know there is one.

But if this is how the real world works, then I guess we just have to deal with it.