james.soriano

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PUBLISHED: Student & Campus Section, Manila Bulletin 24 June 2009 Issue (Page E-3)

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Just last Saturday, I was informed that the school requires us to register for the upcoming elections. We were told by my NSTP moderator that all students taking the program are required to present proof of their registration, either the Voter’s ID or the official receipt, to their respective program moderators. Failing to do so would apparently merit a deduction in our grades, but I wasn’t too clear on which component this falls under, or on how much they’ll deduct.

At first, I wasn’t too comfortable hearing about this (is it right for schools to interfere with the student’s exercise of his or her political rights?), but I personally don’t mind. I intend to vote in the upcoming elections, and I have been planning to register since the beginning of summer. In fact, my family decided that we were all going to register together. We were going to bond over it.

I would still like to believe that my vote counts for something, even if it’s hard to divorce the election process from harsh realities such as cheating and fraud. Or even if we’re not entirely sure there’s going to be an election. The point is that democracy fails without its voters. Voting is often the only opportunity that we ordinary citizens get to directly influence our society. If we collectively choose not to make use of it, then we might as well deny our existence as a republic, and leave the course of our lives to the whims of those who would take the reins of leadership by force.

Originally though, I did not want to vote.

After turning eighteen last year, I had decided that I wouldn’t vote in the 2010 elections. My most important consideration was that I didn’t believe in a system where evil deeds are rewarded and no good deeds go unpunished. Neither did I believe in any of the prospective candidates, who seem to be sprouting off the same generalities in different words when asked to talk about their plans for the country.

I didn’t believe back then that my vote counted for something.

At the time, it seemed to me that the elections are just another superficial exercise we go through as a nation to keep some semblance of democracy. It is like an estranged husband and wife staying together for the kids when there is no love between them. The elections are just one big joke we play on ourselves because the truth hurts. And the truth is that we don’t know any other way to run our country.

A year later, I still feel the same way. It isn’t as if the situation has become at least marginally better. Elections are still won on personalities and payouts, not platforms. Parties are still little more than loose political alliances, little more than another way for the voters to remember the candidates’ names. Our political culture is still just a little more than non-existent. And our candidates are still little more than the same people.

The only thing that seems to have changed is that the elections are going to be automated. At the very least, I guess, you spend a little less time in the election booth.

But even if things haven’t changed all that much, I’ve realized that it is still better to participate in the process than to shun it. Not participating is as good as saying you don’t believe this society can move forward under a democratic system. It is a declaration of surrender in a hopeless situation. I figure that if I’m not going to vote, I might as well leave and find some other, better country to reside in. I may as well abandon ship.

Not voting is also a form of protest—and my decision back then was motivated by the desire to protest against the injustices that are perpetrated by the system and its operators.

But then again, if I wanted to make a difference, I figured that my gesture should count. After all, there is a difference between abstaining and not voting. An abstain vote is still making a statement, and it is one that would be counted in the ballots.

We have been taught since grade school that with rights come responsibilites. With suffrage, or the right to vote, I believe that the foremost responsibility is to make use of it; everything else follows from there. True, our laws and our candidates might seem weak, but it is only by persistently undergoing the experience of election after election that our country will learn to select the right leaders. Otherwise, we might as well resort to a revolution, because there is no other acceptable way to pick leaders in a democratic society.

This is why I feel obligated to vote.

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PUBLISHED: Student & Campus Section, Manila Bulletin, 20 May 2009 Issue (Page F-4)

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I stumbled upon the words “synthetic democracy” last weekend, while running through my daily digest of news websites and articles. It was in an article entitled “Puno: Oligarchs still rule,” which dealt mainly with some remarks the Chief Justice made during the launch of the Moral Force Movement last Friday night.

I decided to google it. The article aside, I found two other directly related links. The first was a political psychology paper whose abstract was enough to make my brain bleed. The second was an amusing video skit satirizing democracy, though the point is radically different from what Puno was trying to stress. It doesn’t seem to be a defined term in any field of study, but the way he said it, it may well have been a real one.

He used the words “synthetic democracy” to point out what could happen if we didn’t elect the right leaders. I think it could be used to describe the unique problem our country faces.

According to Merriam-Webster, ’synthetic’ is used to describe something that involves the nature of synthesis, or the process of combining separate elements to form a coherent whole, as in chemistry or philosophy. It can also used to describe something artificial or counterfeit, from and can be used to form negative connotations. In both senses, the term ’synthetic democracy’ is perfectly accurate.

Our democracy is founded on the principles of fairness and equality. It is thus designed to maximize the participation of its members, all of whom having different, even conflicting interests. In other words, our political system is designed to be the sum of its parts, where all people’s interests are protected, reconciled, or heard out, at the very least. By its very nature, our democracy is synthetic, striving to combine several distinct groups and interests to form a civilized, ordered society that functions for the good of its members.

But when we look at which parts are integrated, and to what extent, our system exposes itself for what it really is—a machine that has been re-engineered to serve the interests of those who have the resources and know-how to operate it.

It starts with the people who are allowed to participate in the political game. The government is the territory of the trapos, who see their positions not as an instrument of public will, but as a business or career venture to further cement their own wealth and status. The field is dominated by those who have entrenched themselves so deeply in the system that they have become powerful enough to control its’ workings. These people, of course, have no interest in changing this state of affairs, for they would have something to lose.

These distorted values, in turn, have created the culture in which our system operates. Politicians are encouraged to enact policies or lobby for interests which ensure that they also benefit. Deals and alliances are only made on the expectation that the spoils will be shared. Newcomers who enter the system are either indoctrinated or forced to depart.

Conversely, there is no incentive to act differently. Constituents are almost always relatively powerless against their representatives, who can use a variety of different means to silence their critics. And if they resort to the law, it is always easy to manipulate the law. Or to “remind” those who control it that they benefit by protecting you.

When it comes to the public, the same mindset operates. Policies and regulations favor the highest bidders. This is evident when we take a look at the interests that our governments protect, prioritize, and pander to: the land-owners, the foreign multinational companies, those who own the commanding heights of the economy. As for those who are not blessed with either name, riches, or connections, their interests are often deemed secondary, especially when up against interests more powerful than theirs. There is no incentive to help the lower classes because the lower classes can’t contribute to the politician’s pocket.

Unfortunately, many of us belong in that segment.

Our country is governed by a synthetic democracy. The system is designed to maximize the benefits of the privileged members, who have different, even conflicting, interests from the many who are not. It is the sum of its parts, with some parts being larger than the others. It combines several distinct groups and interests to form a society that functions for the good of the few.

What our country has is a democracy that has been deprived of its essence. What we have been left with is a democratic system that has lost sight of its goals and principles, an animated body that has been deprived of its soul—a zombie of democracy.