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PUBLISHED: Student & Campus Section, Manila Bulletin, 24 September 2008 Issue (Page E-3)

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Last Sunday, while everyone was out watching the Ateneo-La Salle game in Araneta, I was over at a blockmate’s house with a couple of friends doing some academic work. This, however, did not change the fact that by four in the afternoon, all of us were seated around the big-screen TV, watching the game intently, sharing its highs and lows with all the other fans in the Big Dome. We had ceased being productive.

The game was a bit of a mess. The game was excruciatingly slow in the first half, and there were too many fouls and turnovers throughout. About the only thing that was amazing in this game was the defense, and even if you’re a fan of the sport, this is usually quite hard to appreciate.

But the game wasn’t completely devoid of good points. One of these good points was Ateneo’s 6”7 center Rabeh Al-Hussaini, who had 31 of Ateneo’s 69 points to go along with 9 rebounds. The MVP candidate’s play showed why Ateneo has been on top all season.

During the post-game analysis, my blockmates and I were talking about him in particular. “Ano bang height niyan?” one of them asked. “six-foot-seven,” another of my blockmates answered. “Mga kasing-height ni Michael Jordan.”

That remark, I think, illustrates why the Philippines and basketball don’t fit each other very well.

In our country, basketball is something of a national fixation. We play it on the streets, buy the jerseys, and have an entire channel dedicated to it on cable. This obsession tends to be both utilized and fueled by media. For example, basketball players are treated as celebrities, performing various other functions ranging from TV host to commercial model. When you think about it, these people aren’t just selling products or TV shows. In effect, they are also selling basketball, being “ambassadors of the game”. Maybe this is why every teenage boy, at some point in his life, must have wanted to be a basketball superstar.

While I myself also subscribe to the basketball culture, I don’t understand how things came to be this way, or indeed, why they should be.

For one thing, we put in so much money and effort into basketball when it’s something we can’t be competitive at internationally. Height, of course, is the big issue here. In other countries, the height range for big men would be around six-foot-ten to over seven feet. For smaller players like guards, the average height would be at around six-foot-four to six-foot-seven. Here, Rabeh Al-Hussaini, who stands six-foot-seven inches tall, is already a big man. Our big men are about as big as the small guards of other countries.

For another thing, we pay so much attention to basketball that we’ve come to ignore other sports. In this country, there’s not much room for a career in a sport that’s not basketball, aside from billiards, boxing, and bowling. Besides being unfair to all our talented and dedicated swimmers, martial artists, and other “–ball” players, it also makes you wonder if we have a strange, irrational preference for sports starting with the letter ‘B’.

That aside, I think the worse effect is that some of the sports we’re ignoring, we can actually be competitive at internationally, if we aren’t already. It seems to me that we pay much more attention to how our basketball teams fare in the UAAP than we do about our Olympic bets in taekwondo or archery. While it might be true that we’d give them support when they finally win, let’s face it: any endeavor that aims to win at international sporting leagues requires state support, in terms of both of funding and fan base. Basketball has a lot of this, while our other sports don’t appear to have much, if at all.

Perhaps the funniest thing about all of what I’ve mentioned above is that these aren’t things we haven’t heard before. Despite this, though, we continue to hold on to basketball as our national sport, for better or worse.

But I guess you could also look at it this way: if a sport is just as much about enjoyment as it is about competition, then the fact that we enjoy basketball is what matters.

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PUBLISHED: Student & Campus Section, Manila Bulletin, 17 September 2008 Issue (Page F-4)

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A lot of us enter college dreaming of big things for ourselves.

During the first few weeks of school, it was not uncommon to hear people say that they’re going to average an uno or a quatro (whichever applies), or at least make the Dean’s List, this first semester. I guess there’s just something about the whole situation that makes us believe that we’re up to the challenges it poses. But maybe that’s a good thing, if it motivates us to give it our best.

Now that we’re nearing the end, though, the mood is strikingly different. A lot of my peers have given up on the possibility of an academically flawless first semester, or on making the Dean’s List, for that matter. I guess there’s just something about the whole situation that puts us in our place. Whatever the reason, the fact is that we don’t get the grades that we expected.

But the good thing about the college system is that your grade isn’t the only thing that matters. This, I presume, is the reason why the upperclassmen keep saying that you should be active in orgs, because orgs will give you the experience as well as the opportunities when you start out. They often tell stories of people who didn’t necessarily graduate with honors, but were very much involved in org work, which is why they’re doing okay right now.

Besides, as one of my professors put very eloquently, college is really all about the lessons you learn and the skills you pick up, which aren’t necessarily reflected by your grades. Grades measure your output, but they do not always truly measure the kind of person you are, or the amount of knowledge you have gained.

At this point, there is a lot of consolation about not doing very well academically in college. After all, grades aren’t everything. We shouldn’t be so hard on ourselves for not getting the marks we want to get. Instead, we should just enjoy learning for learning’s sake.

I agree—except it’s really not that simple.

For one thing, it’s still one of the first things that potential employers look at when they view your resume. This, actually, has some logical basis: grades are the most objective measures of your ability to produce output. In a way, therefore, they are a reliable measure of your work ethic. True, grades don’t always reflect your true mettle, but your true mettle won’t be worth anything if it can’t earn you a decent living.

Second, first-class grades are pretty much a prerequisite to getting first-class opportunities, and by that I mean you have to be one of the very best, if not the very best. After all, these opportunities go a very long way; you could be starting at a position which most other people would take years to even reach. If you think about it in terms of the money you earn or the time you save, that is quite a significant advantage. It is an advantage that org involvement won’t often be able to give you.

It is at this point that you realize how much a semester really matters. Education is a game of grade-point averages, and college is no different; the only thing that matters is your average at the end. Therefore, the goal is to keep your GPA consistently high. If you spread that out over the whole course of your college life, which is around eight semesters for most people, you’ll realize that one or two near-failing marks in one semester can easily destroy your bid for summa cum laude, and that semester is something you can never get back.

That is precisely why first semester can be so frustrating. If you slipped up, then you’ll just have to live with it. Also, it doesn’t get any easier from here. If you weren’t able to exploit it, then you’ll just have to work harder the rest of the way—all for a piece of paper that supposedly estimates your worth in the job market.

Maybe it’s unfair, but the fact of the matter is this:

Grades do matter.

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PUBLISHED: Student & Campus Section, Manila Bulletin, 10 September 2008 Issue (Page E-4)

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As a young adolescent, my father loved talking about his experiences as a young activist. That was back in the late ‘70s, when life was characterized by Cold War-like tension under the Marcos administration, and threats seemed more visible and real, even for young people.

Nonetheless, activism had an appeal to the youth then. And my father was one of those people who would be at the forefront of rallies, as well as behind organizing them. Eventually, he would be one of the millions of people who flocked to EDSA and proved to the world that oppressive regimes could be brought down by bloodless revolutions. Obviously, he’s proud to be part of that movement.

Conversations like these, though, would inevitably come to a comparison with our generation. My father would say that activism was not what it used to be, when the youth truly felt like they had a stake in their country’s future. He would also say that the youth of today is a lot more apathetic and indifferent.

Firstly, I think he’s right in saying that activism is not what it used to be. Then again, he lived in a generation when fears were much more palpable. You always felt like you were being watched, and you never knew what could happen to you. One day, you could be in school, and the next day, you would never be heard from again; nowadays, it’s not like that. Or, at the very least, you wouldn’t expect that to come from non-criminal elements.

Besides, back in the day they had an incentive to be disruptive. For one thing, most people supported it, whether openly or not. For another thing, they used to send stronger messages. Now, they don’t seem to work. Moreover, sometimes they are just annoying.

Secondly, in my opinion there’s some merit to the accusation that we’ve become more apathetic. Things have changed, yes; but besides that, I think our generation has become more detached from reality. The advent of the information age has ironically made it easier for us to lock ourselves in our own little worlds. We are now able to block out the sounds of the world around us with the sounds that come from our iPods.

In my own experience, the sad truth is that I know too many people who just don’t give a damn. For some, the sad state of affairs is simply not a reality that can be felt, whether literally or figuratively, in their lives. Others are aware of what’s happening, but would rather not care. What’s the point in caring, anyway? It’s either that, or there’s also no point behind their not caring. Ours, after all, is also a “wala lang” generation.

But it would be wrong to say that we’re completely indifferent. Activism is often equated with protests and demonstrations, particularly in this country, where “militant” takes on the special meaning of “one who engages in rallies”. Yet activism also takes a number of different forms, such as advocacy campaigns. If that’s the case, then the ranks of the young activists in this country would increase. It might be by a small amount, but I guess it’s better than nothing.

If we are going to insist on traditional notions of activism, though, can you blame us for not being involved in political change? Our generation bore witness to the other People Power, but things didn’t turn out the way our people had hoped they would. We’ve also borne witness to the massive protests that have followed, and none of them have succeeded. As a generation, we’ve learned—via experience, in fact—that these methods don’t work anymore. Or that if they do, they don’t necessarily make things better.

That’s funny, though. It’s either we don’t care, or we’re disillusioned this early. All the while, things seem to be getting worse, and it’s either we don’t feel it, or we don’t feel anything can be done about it.

In the final analysis, maybe we are an apathetic generation.

But as long as there are people who continue struggling to make things better, no matter how few, I refuse to believe that there is no hope.

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

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One hot topic that seems to recur in the newspapers and among my socially-aware peers is HB 4110, known more commonly as the Reproductive Health Bill. The bill, which is national in scope, promoted information on and access to both natural and family planning methods. It also claims not to “have any bias for or against either method.” The author of the bill, Rep. Edcel Lagman, has characterized the bill as pro-life and pro-family.

Supporters of the bill commend it for promoting the exercise of freedom of choice, as well as for being a timely response to the causes underlying overpopulation and, in the long run, poverty. Opposition to the bill, on the other hand, centers on claims that it is anti-life, that it promotes a culture of promiscuity, and that sex education is best practiced at home.

In my own opinion, it is the most reasonable alternative we have at the moment.

I think it’s unfortunate that the term ‘population control’ has negative connotations. Whenever mentioned, it seems to imply that we reduce people to mere numbers or statistics, or connote unacceptable and unnatural methods of prevention. That’s why it’s hard to give bills like these a fair hearing. But I propose that we set aside our biases for just a moment.

I want to begin with an observation: people who live in poverty are basically uninformed when it comes to reproductive health. It does not help either that society deems sex as a taboo topic. These people, then as now, find out through their friends, or by trying it out themselves. It is situations like these that cause more, usually unwanted, pregnancies. These pregnancies make their already-complicated lives even more complicated.

In an ideal situation, traditional methods would be enough. People would abstain because they would know the consequences, and their values would be consistent with it. But reality isn’t like that. People’s values differ, and they don’t always know the consequences.

If we really want to help them out, then the best we can do is to inform them, and give them their options. Isn’t this what we value in a democracy? Besides, if there’s anything that should be going for this bill, it’s the fact that it does not value one method over another. This means that if society’s values are as consistent as they appear, then most people would probably just listen to their parish priest anyway.

I understand the most of the controversy stems from the notion that modern methods would be available. Apparently, making these available would constitute an attack on our values. They would also, presumably, turn us all into sex maniacs, because condoms are available at our nearest convenience stores.

I don’t know what’s more oppressive, though—that we insist on imposing one system of beliefs for all people, or that we allow these ‘threats’ to exist for the sake of giving people knowledge. That’s because I don’t believe in an absolute notion of good. Or, maybe I’m just a liberal, believing that democracy is all about giving people choices, and that the furthest government can step in is by recommending some choices over others.

It’s the same banana with the ‘culture of promiscuity’ argument. True, safe sex is not the same as responsible sex, and I’m sure adults with ten or more children would understand.

As for experimental teenagers, well, they’re going to be exposed sooner or later. The question is whether we’ll let them get there first before they know anything. Or, maybe I’m just a cynic, not believing we can expect many of us to listen to abstinence talks because the world today encourages us to find out for ourselves what’s good for us, and that’s not necessarily a bad thing.

In the end, it’s not just a question of values, but a question concerning the just distribution of resources. I agree, this problem must be addressed, but I’m afraid we’ll have to wait forever before we get anywhere. In the meantime, more children are being born into lives that will become more and more difficult, the more that they keep on coming.

Maybe that’s the greater oppression.