Believing in non-belief

Red Tani receives his first holy communion. He would grow up to be an atheist and be president of Filipino Freethinkers.


Red hoists the banner of his organization. FF encourages an exchange of ideas and riles against theocracy.



Jenny is proud mother to Alexandra and Erica.


Baby Jenny with her Catholic mother and Protestant father, circa 1968.

(This is a project for my advanced reporting class, submitted to professor Kim Kierans, vice president of the School of Journalism at University of King's College, Halifax, Nova Scotia, Canada.)

At a Starbucks overlooking Manila Bay one Sunday evening, 43-year-old Jenny Ortuoste remembers her journey from Christianity to atheism. She had a Catholic mother and Protestant father. She attended a Seventh-Day Adventist school. She went to Mass every Sunday. She memorized long passages from the Bible.

As a teenager, Jenny started questioning the many stories that did not make sense to her. Why would Lot's daughters get their father drunk so they could have sex with him and then bear his children? Why would hospitality dictate that daughters be offered to strangers who come knocking at the door? Who's to say which parts of the Bible should be taken literally, and which should not? Who decides that the Gospels are gospel truth?

Jenny persevered in making sense of the faiths she was born to. But she observed that what was said in church doctrine was rarely observed in real life. When you did not get what you want, you were told: "God has greater plans for you." But what plans? As a young adult, she prayed ceaselessly for her husband to stop seeing his mistress and make their family whole again. He left her and their two kids, anyway. What now?

As a single mother, she joined a protestant group – the Union Church of Manila. She ushered during services. She made her kids go to Bible studies. She tithed. But when she dared speak about domestic abuse at a sharing session, the well-heeled, bejeweled women in her group spoke as though she did not belong to their affluent, sheltered clique. After missing a few sessions to take on extra work to make ends meet at home, those so-called Christian ladies told Jenny to look for another group. The women did not even bother to ask her how she was, whether she was sick, or if they could help. "You know, what would have been the Christian thing to do?" Jenny recalls, before taking a sip of her iced coffee.

Meanwhile, 28-year-old Red Tani was a staunch Catholic in his early life. He attended high school at San Beda College Alabang and went to college at De La Salle University. He prayed a lot and was a member of the Youth for Christ Movement at DLSU.
Red, like Jenny, recalls questioning Biblical stories at a very young age. For instance, he could not quite comprehend how God, in the Old Testament, could kill Egyptian babies just to punish the Pharaoh.

If Jenny's journey was shaped by her experiences, Red's was theoretical. He started creating a "version of Christianity in my mind that was very different from the one of the Roman Catholic Church." He searched for answers, hoping to find something binding that all religions shared.

In an email, Red explains: "It was a series of events rather than a single one. I realized that Christianity, like all other religions, was made by men to express a deeper truth that is shared by all religions. I then studied many religions in the hopes of finding that universal spiritual language. In the end, I found that there was none."

The change was not earth-shaking. Red claims his conversion "has not really changed the way I deal with my problems. I just replace the prayers with goal-setting and reflection, and I handle the daily challenges just the same: with thinking and planning, hard work and persistence, and then feedback and analysis. I would say that life has become more guilt- and anxiety-free, and I have become more accepting of people with different beliefs and of people in general."


**

Edilberto Jimenez has taught theology to college students at Jesuit-run Ateneo de Manila University for 20 years. Before this, he also taught at the University of Santo Tomas, the 400-year-old Catholic university run by the Dominicans, for two years.

He says many students go to the Ateneo because it is regarded as a good school, not because it is a Catholic school. "Here we have all kinds of students," he says. There are those who were born into Catholicism, take this fact for granted and then do nothing – he calls them the folk Catholics. There are those who are committed to their faith. And there are the atheists.

Jimenez says that the sociological basis for young people's attraction to "the denial of the existence of God" is secularization. People, especially the eduated ones, become immersed in science and technology as well as the many philosophies of the world. These claim to be able to replace religion, which many regard as "touchy-feely" – i.e., occasioning feelings of comfort, belongingness and happiness without the benefit of reason.

But among atheists he has encountered in Ateneo, Jimenez says there are two kinds. The first is the intellectual, enlightened kind. These are those who have decided to think a lot about life. They recognize some positive aspects of religion and do not deny them,. "Strangely, they are more spiritual, they appreciate the course (theology) more, and they are more respectful."

The other kind of atheists, Jimenez said, is where the "emo" ones belong. They abhor everything about religion and have "no balance" at all in their belief, or lack thereof. Closed-minded and bitter, they are those who have an axe to grind against the Church.

Is the Church at fault, then, for the emergence of atheists? Certainly, Jimenez says. There is some element of disillusion with the way Church officials and members have been conducting themselves. This also tells us that there is such a high expectation from the Church. Then again, nobody's perfect, and even the Church is a "human institution."

Jimenez says that while reason and logic serve scientists well, they do not apply to "essentials" -- meaning faith – because these clearly cannot be proven or falsified.

Jenny would not agree. She claims to get by with pure reason in everything she does, and finds that she is happier, more whole. She is a PhD candidate for communications research at the University of the Philippines. She is the chief of staff of the general manager of a government-owned corporation. She writes a weekly column on popular culture, hosts a radio show, and collects books and fountain pens. Her daughters have grown into lovely ladies and she is friends with her former husband (her marriage has been civilly anulled).

Red's day job is running a Web design company with his wife. He also occasionally accepts IT consultancy projects. He is better known, though, for the activities of Filipino Freethinkers, of which he is president. FF is a forum for the exchange of ideas in social issues such as reproductive health, divorce, and lesbian-gay, bisexual and transgendered people. It also attacks Catholic religious leaders for what is known as "theocracy" (Jenny calls it "arrogance of the faith") -- "trying to legislate the beliefs of one sect over the entire country."

FF holds meet-ups where current events are discussed. Everybody is welcome to join these gatherings – even believers. See, not all members of FF are nonbelievers. "What binds us together is not what we think -- whether we're atheists or agnostics or whatever -- but how we think -- using reason and science to reach our own conclusions," Red adds. FF also has a strong presence on the Internet, via www.filipinofreethinkers.org.

Still, FF "is more than just a forum and a website: we are advocates of reason and science, activists of secularism, and a support group for secularists of all sorts. The website, online forums, and meetups are just tools we use for these ends."

The Internet has decidedly been a major factor in emboldening young Filipinos to express their thoughts on non-belief. Blogs such as the Pinoy atheist, Radioactive atheist, Atheistang Pinoy and many others have served as a platform for such thinkers to express themselves. The Philippine Atheists and Agnostics Society, established earlier this year, is also conducting its "outing" campaigns. "Filipino atheists demand equal treatment and respect in the present world. No more hiding, no more lying, we are coming out of our closets," says Marissa Torres Langseth, PATAS founder, in the group's Web site.

Still, despite the apparent "coolness" of being an atheist – it implies, after all, that one is a thinker and an intellectual rebel – Jenny still feels that she is part of a minority, especially in the Philippines where nearly 90 percent are Christians. "It's easier to be gay than to be an atheist in this country." There are no obvious acts of persecution, of course, just knowing looks from those who don't see things as you do – and want to impose their beliefs on you.

Jimenez believes that even as Catholic institutions like the Ateneo have activities to nurture students' Catholic faith, society must simply give atheists space. He concedes that some of the more enlightened atheists he knows are "less bitter, more conscientious, more spiritual, and more capable of detaching themselves from wealth, power and success" than those who claim to be members of the Catholic flock.

Red wants atheists to be treated with respect and integrity. His group is out to convince many closet atheists out there that it is okay not to believe – although it is okay to do so, as well. Despite all the fuss, being an atheist is no big deal for him. "It does not say a lot about a person. I'd rather they learn more about the individual because there is so much more to a person than whether they believe in god(s)."

A suitable wife

"Beware of (marriage) brokers," says the sign inside the PRISM building. That does not mean the brokers do not operate somewhere else.


Jazmine, 19, cannot wait to begin her life in Korea with her husband. They married in April after a brief courtship, and he is now waiting for her there.


Sheila Choi, 35, and her happy marriage may be the exception to the rule.

This is a project for Advanced Reporting class, which I wrote with Malte Kollenberg, Korea correspondent for Kollenbecker Multimedia Journalism. Malte also took the photos.


DEATH by strangulation, says a January 19, 2011 Philippine autopsy report. Suicide, says another issued in South Korea eight days earlier.

They are reports on the same body, Filipina Cathy Bonesa Mae Deocades', 25. Like many other women, she fled to escape poverty by marrying a foreigner. Soon after the wedding, Cathy moved to Korea, perhaps expecting a life she thought she knew from soap operas.

She returned to the Philippines in a box.

A poignant send-off

The People’s Reform Initiative for Social Movement (PRISM)- an NGO affiliated with the Commission on Filipinos Overseas – conducts pre-departure orientation seminars for Filipino women married to foreigners.

The seminar for Korea-bound brides takes two days and includes talks on immigration laws, culture, and domestic abuse. PRISM talks to about 60 Korea-bound women in a given month. These women need certificates from attending this seminar to live in their husbands’ country.

Counselor Len Espinosa says PRISM has been including Cathy’s case in the talks. Years ago, Cathy was just one of those women attending the seminar. Now she is a warning. A marriage broker introduced Cathy to her husband. Most of the women attending the seminar also met their husbands the same way -- even though none of them would admit they did.

Brokering the deal

In 1990, the Philippines passed Republic Act 6955, which criminalizes profiting out of matching Filipina brides to foreign partners or advertising announcements for such searches.

This did not stop the extremely lucrative business. The Internet made the process easier as some brokers pose as harmless Internet dating sites.

In Korea, the mail-order bride system is legal and in fact a thriving industry. A man searching for a bride for example seeks out a broker from the Philippines. The broker is typically female and middle-aged.

Regina Galias of the CFO says these brokers hold “show ups”, or a gathering of potential brides in hotels, restaurants, even the back of vans - where, a representative of the man picks out the most attractive girl in the group.

Once a bride has been chosen, the groom shells out the equivalent of P500,000 for the processing of papers, the actual wedding ceremony and the preparation of the bride to eventually join her husband in Korea, says Angela Penson, Excutive Director of PRISM.

Whatever is left, the broker keeps.

Motivations

Economic upliftment is a potent force that drives Filipinas to marry foreign men they hardly know. There is the hope that doing so would secure the future of their families.

Trends have been alarming. In 2005, the average Filipina marrying a South Korean was between 25 and 29 years old, from the National Capital Region, a college graduate, and had a job.

In 2009, the average age went down to 24 to 26 years old, and there was a marked increase in the number of high school graduates and unemployed women.

The Korean government reports that in 2004, eleven percent of Korean marriages took place between Korean men and foreign women. It is a 38-percent increase from 2003 levels. In 2004, more than 25 thousand men married foreigners, a number more than twice the 2002 figure.

By the end of 2010 7,476 Filipinos, married to Korean nationals were living in South Korea, most of them women. For example: Out of 919 Filipino Seoullites, only 50 are men.

Korea has an increasing demand for women. Educated women leave for the cities of Seoul or Busan leaving behind workers and farmers in more rural areas.

The 2010 census reveals that there are 881,665 unmarried men older than 32 with nothing more than a high school diploma. But only 472,370 women with a similar background.

Korean women want an educated, financially stable partner with property. Men from rural areas do not meet these qualifications, so they look abroad for others who would take them as they are.

Not a bed of roses

Filipinas find that their Korean husbands are bound by filial piety. Newlyweds do not live on their own. The wife serves the parents of her husband. They have no independent funds and the money is managed by the in-laws.

Domestic abuse is a reality. A PRISM document says Cathy had suffered in the hands of her husband and her mother-in-law. Under worst-case scenarios, some girls find themselves not as wives but sex or labor slaves.

Korea’s Ministry for Gender Equality and Family has set up an Emergency Support Center for Migrant Women. This is the place women can turn to. There are six such centers in Korea with a total of 77 staff members.

For Penson, this is not enough. “Korea should do more”, she says.

The Sheila story

Not all marriages are unhappy. Sheila Choi, 32, is a Methodist pastor who will be living in Korea only after spending seven years in the Philippines with her husband.

He is her age, also a pastor, and has been very “kind, caring, loving and flexible” all these years. She met him when she was working as an English language instructor to Koreans: he was a friend of her boss.

Jazmine’s “whole new world”

Jazmine, 20, looks frustrated. The CFO has been holding her certificate. She married her 47-year-old husband in April; he is now waiting for her in Korea.

Jazmine says she is excited to begin a new life there. But the counselors have been asking her difficult questions. She is being grilled for marrying in San Juan City when she lived in Dasmarinas Cavite. “It was my aunt who processed my documents,” Jazmine insists.

"How exactly did she become your aunt?" Penson asks. Jazmine just looks at her blankly.

Penson has a knowing, sad look on her face. The law does not have enough teeth, entrapment operations are slow in coming, and the women are desperate enough to embrace the unknown – even with the tragic tale of Cathy looming in the background.

Fuss about a speech

published 27 July 2011, MST

It is tempting to dismiss the State-of-the-Nation Address as some sort of cliché. The same things happen every year.

For days and weeks before, there is speculation about what the president is going to talk about. Students wonder whether classes would be suspended.

Groups of every orientation stage rallies on the streets. Effigies are burned. Police officials claim they are prepared to contain the crowd if it gets unruly.

There is inordinate attention to what lawmakers, especially the women, wear so that the occasion resembles what happens on the red carpet before the Oscar Awards. The Who’s Who in Philippine politics and media sashay to their seats.

The president delivers his or her speech with a distinct gimmick for that year. Remember former President Fidel Ramos’ Mang Pandoy and former President Gloria Arroyo’s Bangkang Papel (Paper Sailboat) Boys? Now it’s “wang-wang” season.

The president reports on the state of the nation using a version that paints the rosiest picture.

Who’s to say whether other versions are more, or less, accurate? (Outside the Batasan, rallyists deliver their alternate Sonas, representing their own take.)

Interruptions of the speech, such as when the president is applauded, or given a standing ovation, or how many times he cracks a joke or buckles or coughs, are counted.

In this age of Facebook and Twitter, live online commentary is possible from anyone who has a computer or mobile device. The exchanges in themselves are fascinating.

(And because the text of the speech was made available Monday afternoon at www.gov.ph, one could actually read, speak and gesture along with Mr. Aquino).

Everybody analyzes what the president said and what he did not. Supporters praise him while critics say the speech failed to do this and that.

After a few days, everybody forgets about the Sona and goes about his or her usual ways.

***

These are exactly what happened Monday with President Noynoy Aquino’s second address.

The reactions are mixed: on one hand, he is said to have connected well with the ordinary Filipino especially when he asked us all to make the fight against corruption personal.

On the other, he is accused of not offering us anything new.

The speech could have sounded better, of course, had the President’s team connected it with the previous Sona to show exactly how things have advanced. The issues deemed important in the first year should be followed through in the second, third, fourth, fifth and sixth years. Only then can we say whether progress has been made.

The failure to do exactly this says a lot. Does President Aquino, for instance, not think public-private partnerships are not important anymore? Or was there nothing yet worth reporting at this point?

Silence is revealing as well. We doubt whether the mention of Hacienda Luisita, the reproductive health and the freedom of information bills simply slipped the presidential speechwriters’ minds. There is a reason for not mentioning them: what are these reasons?

Anecdotes are nice because they provide color to the claims, but we would rather know exactly where the much-touted straight and narrow path is leading us. If only we did, perhaps more would happily get on board.

Indeed the President sounded sincere and earnest. That he pounced away at the previous administration—again, and predictably—was a waste of the goodwill that his manner of delivery could have generated.

We don’t live in a fantasy world. We understand that our leaders are humans, are not perfect, and may from time to time make poor decisions. Hence we do not need to be shown that they are Superman out to fight the evil of corruption and bad governance, or Mr. Virtue in stark contrast to Mrs. Vice. Many are getting sick of the oversimplification and the gloating: “Look at how bad things were then, and look how great they have been since we came here!”

I wonder: how would a presentation of both gains and setbacks of the PRESENT administration have affected people’s responses? I would have appreciated it. Again, nobody’s perfect. What is important is that we chip in to fill each other’s inadequacies. The administration may be amazed at how many citizens, whether they voted for Mr. Aquino or not, are willing to help.

Ultimately it is not about whoever takes that podium and talks for nearly an hour. It is about Filipinos who need to be healed of petty politics and our consequent apathy in the things that matter most.

Maybe next year will be better. And so we wait, again.

adellechua@gmail.com

A regional education

“Take us to the beach!” they said when we asked them where they wanted to go for the weekend.

Our foreign classmates, all working journalists from all over Asia, had been in Manila a full week, maybe more, for the on-campus sessions of our distance-learning graduate program in journalism at Ateneo de Manila. But because of the rains when they arrived, and the sheer amount of material we had to read, papers we had to write and presentations we had to prepare, most of them had never been anywhere beyond the normal school-dormitory route.

Last weekend was thankfully sunny and pleasant and our load was relatively lighter. We had motive, means and opportunity.

We Filipinos, ever the gracious hosts, set off to work. One scouted for a big-enough vehicle to take us all to Batangas. Another explored which resorts we could visit. Yet another suggested it would be nice to take a detour to Tagaytay and take pictures around the small volcano everybody has heard about but never seen. The Indonesians, of course, knew volcanoes like the back of their hand. But some of the others have never seen a volcano and thus happily said yes. Still another volunteered to cook laing and bring it as baon during the day trip.

Sunday was our only free day, and so not everybody decided to come along for the ride. A few others decided to sleep in or explore the metro on their own. Still, we had ten adults in the van – three Filipinos, two Indonesians, two Chinese, one Vietnamese, one Nepalese and one German working in Korea. We set off for the journey.

We stayed in Tagaytay for about 30 minutes, just taking pictures and sipping coffee from the deck of Starbucks. From there it was a long ride and everybody was feeling cramped and a little bit impatient. We arrived at Laiya, San Juan, Batangas nearing noon, and everybody was hungry. Nearly all jumped, not into the water but at the laing, offered to us in two containers – spicy and non-spicy – and the rice. Food from the resort canteen was also brought in, and we had a feast of beef steak, pork binagoongan, adobong pusit, sarciadong talakitok and salted egg with tomatoes.

Our stomachs’ rumblings out of the way, those of us who wanted to hit the water did. It was a good day for the beach – sunny and no hint of rain. We saw a boat rental service that would take us for a ride to a patch of island 20 minutes away and back. Everyone went except for one Filipino, a journalism teacher from Pasig, who volunteered to stay in the cottage and watch our bags. The blue-green water was clear and even the rather string waves did not scare us.

My classmates marveled at how conservative Filipinos were in their beachwear. Was it because we were Catholic? Here, we explained, only those who looked like models wore swimsuits, except of course when it was absolutely imposed by the resort. In China, Hugh from Shenzen said, everybody wore little pieces of cloth (he himself was in skimpy white swimming trunks). That’s easy to see, we Filipinos countered. Young Chinese people were generally thin. And then we talked about other societies, the US, for example, where people of any size and orientation had no qualms donning swimsuit. They did not care what others thought. Would it not be nice to not care?

I brought along my 11-year-old daughter Sophie who asked me to bury her in the sand and take a picture of her protruding head. Maryoto, the agriculture writer from Jakarta, took photos as well, as he himself asked to be photographed in what would look like a rock-climbing pose. But nobody was climbing anything – he just had to raise his feet to look like he was.

A few more minutes in the water, and soon we had to shower and dress to prepare for the long trip back to Quezon City. While we were fixing ourselves, Malte the German bought beer for everybody and amazed us all by how he could open bottles using folded-up newspaper. Some locals peddled their goods from cottage to cottage, and at first we ignored them but soon became attracted to the sweets in bilaos. Hugh’s friend Steve, who was in the Philippines for leisure and not for study, warded off my money when I was paying for sweet tamarinds and paid for them himself.

On the way back, Phuong, a news manager from Vietnam, suggested we sing. Much to our surprise, the Indonesians started humming Freddie Aguilar’s Anak. Did they know what it meant, we asked. No, but you could tell it was sad, they said. The Filipinos then explained that it was about a prodigal son – and then sang the words. From then on, each country took turns singing something local to them. Phuong said most Vietnamese songs were sad love songs and were about the woman missing the man, who was either fighting the war or working in a faraway place. Hugh and Steve, with the benefit of Google, sang the theme of the Asian games without missing a word. The Nepalese Dinesh initially said he knew only two lines of everything, but gamely sang as well. He also used his iPhone to play traditional meditation songs that he said he listened to at the end of a busy day. We tried to make Malte sing Nobody but you (with the hand gestures, preferably), but he was, or pretended to be, sound asleep. Toward the end we sang our national anthems, branding those who forgot their words as unpatriotic.

Maryoto and his fellow Indonesian Paulus took advantage of lulls when we thought of what else to sing, by singing themselves. Hands down, they won. They were even persuading our driver, Kuya Jun, to join the merrymaking. We made plans to go to a karaoke before everyone flew back to their respective countries this weekend.

Dinner was at Dencio’s in Eastwood City. Hugh was impressed by the place and said he would return to Eastwood soon -- but realized he could not walk to it from his dorm. We were back in McDonald’s Katipunan, where it all started, at eight in the evening.

We would see each other the next morning in class, but there was a lot of happy education that took place that day.

adellechua@gmail.com

An education in ethics

My classmates and I with our professor, Chay. Thanks to Indonesia'a Andreas Maryoto for the photo. :)

The online sessions for my class in Media Ethics was concluded Thursday. Suffice it to say the course, taught ably and engagingly by Ms. Chay Hofilena, jolted me and I guess my classmates on some individual country practices and universal standards that may be applicable in our careers.

I believe that the core value of this course, however, was not in the amount of new information obtained through readings and discussions, but in its ability to force one to think and apply the benefit of hindsight to the things one has done before and what many are still doing now.

Main takeaway: journalism is an act of character. Nobody's perfect, but everybody can be more aware, more discerning, and do things better from hereon.

I am glad I took this class early on in my career (I am only in my 5th year in traditional media). It's a good companion for the rest of the journey.

Gifts in the newsroom

paper on discourse ethics

We have talked about several philosophies. The impression we get is that faced with ethical dilemmas in the practice of our profession, journalists can, consciously or not, still respond in different ways and be justified in doing so.

Discourse ethics is an attempt to address the problems posed by relativism. Primarily it does not tell us what to do. What it gives us is a method by which to decide on what to do.

Discourse ethics also tells us that all the people involved in and affected by the ethical issue at hand could in fact agree on how to arrive at the best course of action.

On one hand, this is comforting. Finally there is a set of guidelines to enable us all to decide on our actions in a similar way.

On the one hand, one is led to ask: Isn’t discourse ethics too good to be true?
Consider the practice of journalists accepting gifts from businesses and public officials. At Christmastime, specifically, the newsroom is abuzz with activity –in the sheer amount of gifts coming in.

There are bottles of wine, baskets of Christmas Eve goodies, umbrellas, calendars and big crates of fruits. Sometimes there are supermarket gift certificates. These are addressed to reporters covering a particular beat or to editors who process the stories filed by reporters and columnists.

The philosophers would have their own opinion on whether or not it is all right for journalists to accept these Christmas tokens.

Aristotle and Confucius would say it is all right to accept so long as the amount of the token is not too big and that there is an understanding that the reporter for instance is under no obligation to report favorably about the gift sender or water down a negative report about him or her.

Mills would probably say that it is a harmless gift that gives happiness to both giver and receiver, so why not?

Rawls would say it is all right to accept the gift because, using the veil of ignorance, it is not coming from a politician and received by a journalist but a Christmas token given by one person to another in the spirit of the season.

Cultural relativism would say that in our culture it is rude to say no to gifts and hence the journalist should accept it.

Discourse ethics will NOT tell us whether it is all right or not to accept such gifts. It only tells us that we have to get the side of the people involved – the giver, the receiver, the editor or publisher of the news organization, maybe a reader – and let them know of the extent of the ethical question. They will then talk about whether or not the practice is acceptable. Whatever the outcome is your answer.

There are glaring problems here. The very act of choosing which affected people would participate is a subjective act. It also assumes that everybody will, at some point in the future, arrive at an agreement. But what if there are irreconcilable differences? I could very easily substitute a more sympathetic participant: I meet the requirements and yet come up with an outcome favorable to me.

In the end, there is no way other than to live with the realities of compromise and relativism in the field. We just have to, every time, pause to ascertain that our decisions are defensible and compatible with our consciences.

If not, maybe it is time to look for another job.

Utilitarianism and warm, fuzzy feelings

paper on media ethics, attempt at philosophizing

I would like to devote this paper to the classic utilitarian philosophy of Bentham and Mill, as discussed by James Rachels in his article The Debate Over Utilitarianism, and especially as it relates to “happiness.”

When I was asked to write a weekly column five years ago, one of my earliest challenges was to come out with a column name that would best represent me and encapsulate the things I intended to write about in my articles.

I decided on “Chasing Happy.” Some have pointed out that it was grammatically wrong. But I stood my ground. “Happy” was a personification of happiness. Paraphrased, my column could well be called “the pursuit of happiness”. I intended to write about a collective journey into achieving higher ends (social equality, freedom, national pride), focusing on the “chasing” rather than the “happy.” Happy is elusive, after all.

Reading about utilitarian philosophy for the first time, I realized there is more to happiness than what it seems.

We often equate happiness with something that gives us nice, positive feelings. That this is not true all the time constitutes one of the most lasting critiques of utilitarianism. According to classic utilitarianism, the right act is that which yields the best consequences. In assessing the consequence, the only thing that matters is the happiness or unhappiness the act caused.

But how is happiness to be measured? And whose happiness?

Eleven months ago, a deranged policeman, who had just been dismissed from service, took a busload of Chinese tourists hostage. He had the bus parked at the Luneta and negotiated with the government. He also spoke with a few prominent broadcasters, all the while monitoring the news – where he was the main feature -- from the television set inside the bus. By early evening, the policeman had been agitated enough that he started shooting indiscriminately, killing eight tourists in the bus.

There are two “happinesses” here that were weighed against each other. The mediamen’s high of being in the thick of action in giving the viewing public what they want: breaking news.

And then, the hostages contemplated another kind of happiness: the prospect of being eventually safe.

Utilitarianism prescribes pursuing the greatest good of the greatest number. If we take this for its simplistic meaning, then certainly the happiness of the public, the satisfaction derived out of knowing what happens, as it happens, is paramount. It would take precedence over the tourists’ (and their families’) concern for their safety.

A shallow appreciation of the classical utilitarian school would probably offer this ridiculous solution (which in fact did prevail). But a better understanding would emphasize discernment, truly objective, in coming up with a resolution. Perhaps this is “chasing” in an enlightened manner.

In either case, no warm, fuzzy feelings were had. The tourists died, the nation was internationally embarrassed and the officials in charge were blamed.

There goes the bride (2)

Jazmine, who turns 20 this year, is becoming increasingly frustrated that the Commission on Filipinos Overseas has not yet released her certificate of completion of the pre-departure orientation seminar. She needs the certificate to get her visa processed by the Korean Embassy. Her 47-year-old husband, whom she married in April, is waiting for her in his hometown.

Jazmine says she is excited to begin a new life in Korea. Even her parents have given her their blessing. But the counselors of the People’s Reform Initiative for Social Mobilization Foundation, one of two NGOs to which the CFO has delegated its counseling functions, have been asking her to return again and again, each time asking her difficult questions.

That afternoon she is being grilled on why she was married in San Juan City when she lived in Dasmarinas, Cavite. “But it was my aunt who processed my documents…” Jazmine insists, as though it explains everything.

"How exactly did this woman become your aunt?" the interviewer asks. Jazmine just looks at her blankly.

Angela Cheryl Penson, executive director of PRISM, has a sad, knowing look on her face. She is used to these scenarios, processing about 60 brides bound for Korea every month. With few exceptions, the stories are strikingly similar.
It takes a lot of desperation for Filipino women to marry foreign men they hardly know, much less love. There is always the hope that the marriage would be their ticket out of poverty, and would enable them to financially take care of their parents and siblings as well. Never mind that they would be, so soon after the wedding, whisked out of the Philippines and thrust into a completely foreign environment.

Two weeks ago I talked about the hope of the Migrant Integration and Educational Division chief of the CFO, Regina Galias, that the law on mail-order brides would be updated to reflect technological developments that have made things easier for such activities to flourish these days.

Now Penson also suggests holding a different kind of pre-departure seminar to Filipino women BEFORE they actually marry their foreign partners – at the level of the local government registrar. Prevention is, after all, always better than cure.

More often than not, Filipina brides are introduced to their Korean husbands by so-called marriage brokers, or matchmakers who profit from the arrangement. The operation of marriage brokers is illegal in the Philippines, but it does not mean they do not exist, Penson adds. They do anything to convince the potential bride – and her family – that marrying this foreigner would be the solution to their problems, that life in Korea is idyllic, and that the husband would be handsome and kind and generous and ever-understanding, much like the dashing lead stars in the popular Koreanovelas.

When the girls eventually marry and then fly to Korea to start a new life there, they discover it is not what they have been made to believe. Their husbands are farmers, not well-dressed executives in the city. Their mothers-in-law are not doting figures; they meddle in almost every aspect of their lives. The language problem makes any form of communication between husband and wife impossible. They cannot even go out and look for work to send some money back home.

Worse, some marriage migrants experience physical abuse.

In January of this year, 25-year-old Cathy Bonesa Mae Deocades arrived back in General Santos City in a box. According to a report by the Korea Times Online, she had hanged herself in their home in Gongju province. Prior to her death, she had intimated to people around her that she had been physically abused by her husband and even sold to other men for sex. She had called her parents to ask them to send her money so she could escape and go back to the Philippines.

Her husband’s family insists Cathy suffered from post-partum depression. She had just given birth to her first child five months before her death.

The suicide findings are being disputed and now her family is looking for help in trying to ascertain whether Cathy was indeed depressed or whether there was foul play involved. Cathy was found to have met and married her husband through a marriage broker. Are there efforts to find out who the broker was?

There are no answers yet, but Penson and her team of counselors make sure they tell Cathy’s story to the group of would-be marriage migrants in the hope of asking them, again and again, if they really knew what they were getting into.

But how can you argue with free will, asks Angelo Dwight Penson, chairman of the foundation. In the end, after you have warned them repeatedly, after you have told them what could happen to them if they are not discerning, and even if you talk about Cathy’s case, they still want to go.

Angela says that sometimes, even the parents of the brides angrily storm their office, demanding why the counselors are interfering with their daughters’ choice.

The issue of mail-order brides is not a new one, and nor is it peculiar to the Philippines. There are also cases of brides from Mongolia, Vietnam, even Russia. The grooms are not all Korean, either.

But the tragedy is that in this day and age, some women still feel desperate enough to put themselves at risk for the prospect of economic upliftment, with the encouragement of their families and the communities. The even greater tragedy is that we who grasp the bigger picture can only look on and do nothing as they make choices for themselves.

Jazmine, for instance, impatiently gather her things together and implores Penson: “Hindi nyo po ba maibibigay ang certificate ko?” (Won’t you ever get around to issuing me my certificate?)”

adellechua@gmail.com

Moderating narcissism

assignment for my class in Media Law. The question was: What about media can and should be regulated?

Regulation means allowing a certain degree of freedom but also setting the parameters of this freedom. It usually comes from outside and is perceived as a threat.

I will argue the opposite: a greater threat to Philippine media comes from within.

I am not aware of the situation in other countries, but in the Philippines, at least in the capital, the press is free. We have become so disgusted with the idea of government suppression that we have riled against it post-Marcos. Howls are raised upon any attempt to intervene. Indeed our experience has been so bitter that we have become paranoid to the slightest intrusion into our independence.

It is precisely because of this that members of the Philippine press have become paranoid, arrogant -- even narcissistic.

The fact is that journalists (often broadcasters, for they are most visible) have become so popular to the masses that their authoritative voices are mistaken for authority. This has enabled some of them to get elecetd to higher office – national and local alike.

They are treated like celebrities, receivers of attention instead of messengers, the focus of attention instead of helping enlighten the public on numerous issues. The job becomes glamorized. Journalists and sometimes networks are made aware that their opinions do matter, and that politicians need to get on their good side if they want to be presented favorably to the people.

The tragedy is that many times, journalists succumb to the temptation and relish the limelight. They become too full of themsleves. They become either hysterical, overzealous crusaders or influence peddlers who curry favors from government officials and businesses. Even the way they deliver the news calls attention to themselves.

With the tone of their voices, the content of their pieces, they get away with passing off opinion as fact.

They feel entitled to being part of the action instead of faithfully chronicling it. They blur all lines and jump into the fray, endangering their and others' lives, all in the name of the "scoop." The Peninsula Manila incident (where reporters refused to leave at the height of the government assault of the mutineers) and the Luneta hostage tragedy (where hysterical voices of broadcast personalities probably agitated the hostage taker) come to mind. It's a racy job, yes, but we must know when to step back.

On and off, there is a drive to de-criminalize libel, which penalties are provided for in the Revised Penal Code. This is seen by some as superfluous – suits, after all, serve as badge of honor to many practicioners. I believe it all redounds to communication skills – how you can pass off saying the most contriversial things in the most uncontroversial manner.


They say that the Philippines is one of the most dangerous places to be for journalists, because of the many extra-legal killings that have taken place and are still taking place here.

The proposal to arm mediamen to enable them to protect themselves, however, does not address the problem at its root. The solution is to make the wheels of justice turn faster so that those who feel they were aggrieved do not take matters into their own hands. Another solution – an ideal however far fetched one – is to do away with the feudal system that enables local government officials to feel as though their areas of jurisdiction were their personal kingdoms, where they could anything and get away with it. Such is the culture of impunity that has made the likes of the Maguindanao massacre possible.

In the meantime, these evils do not deter journalists from doing what we do.

Let us face it: It feels good to be part of something big, to see our names in print and our faces and voices over television or radio. More than this, it feels good to know we are doing our bit, and making a difference, helping make the world a better place. It's a sweet trap.

If we are not careful and mindful, we could dim our discretion. We could pursue our practice for the wrong reasons – exact favor from others, get back at our enemies, do anything for the ratings/ circulation, make ourselves near-immortal.

Media groups and forums should thus help by constantly reminding us of our place in society and the ultimate goal of our profession. It was in our readings last week: "The primary ourposeof journalism is to provide citizens with the information they need to be free and self-governing."

This is all. We are not rock stars. We are journalists.

Down from the ivory tower: Reflections on Kovach and Rosenstiel's Elements of Journalism

assignment for my Media Ethics class

The 2007 edition of The Elements of Journalism, by Bill Kovach and Tom Rosenstiel, is an act of humility.

The authors recognize that journalism in not invincible. It is vulnerable to changes brought about by technology and the changing times. This new edition is their answer – a testament to the fact that the industry must change in order to remain relevant and true to its fundamental purpose.

The advent of the Internet has caused increased participation from the public in the shaping of what is deemed newsworthy. Citizens are not anymore just passive consumers (in fact, they have been imbued with rights and responsibilities). Journalists are no longer like demi gods or gatekeepers who determine which information should be reported and which should be not.

Indeed, journalists must help the public make sense of the deluge of information toward the achievement of the end: providing information citizens need to be free and self-governing.

The book tackles each of the ten elements in separate chapters, reminding practicioners of the basic, uncompromisable things. Early on, we are reminded that our primary obligation is to the truth, our primary loyalty is to citizens and that the essence of our job is a discipline of verification.

Using real-life situations, the authors acknowledge the reality of conflict of interest. Kovach and Rosenstiel are not afraid to volunteer the information that they have made errors in judgment before – specifically in the case of Maggie Galllagher whom they set as a good example in a previous edition. Eventually, Gallagher was found to be leading a double life, acting as a public-relations consultant of a government agency. This serves as a reminder that the credibility we toiled for over many years could crumble with just one misstep.

As an opinion writer, I especially like the example of the government official changing careers, becoming a journalist and eventually winning a Pulitzer for his commentary. It shows that good journalism is possible even if you have to take sides – one only has to make sure that the facts upon which the opinion is based are airtight and obtained through objective methods.

The book shatters myths about the profession, one of which is that there exists a wall between pursuing journalism in the service of the public and doing so as a business enterprise, and that one has to be on either side of the wall. Kovach and Rosenstiel offer a glimmer of hope on this one – that both interests could be harmonized, and this includes ensuring that even management people understand the essence of the profession and have the interests of the public at heart. Idealists need not be seen as freaks.

Another myth is that the best journalists are superhumanly independent. The authors recognize that journalists are people and are moved by different biases. We should not fancy ourselves infallible. What we should do is to take conscious steps in using objective METHODS so that despite our biases, we come across as credible and of service to the public.

One chapter deals with the often-romanticized aspect of being a journalist – that of being watchdogs. Some perform this job overzealously that they contribute to the chaos instead of helping the public make sense of what is happening. In this regard, the phrase “raising hell in an intelligent way” rings loud and true. If we do this, we have a better chance of being heard and making a difference.

We are also reminded to tell our stories without capitalizing on salacious details of the miseries of others. This brings to mind instances when the public is treated to an inordinate amount of time on relatively inconsequential topics. It is easy to tell how we may fall into the trap, and thus we should be careful.

Finally, in chapter 10, the authors assert that journalism is an act of character. I find this most humbling. Our job has been portrayed in movies and has been the subject of myths and misconceptions. The book reminds us of the fundamental things that should take us through every imaginable phase of change in the industry. It tells us to harbor no illusions and warns us against feelings of hubris and grandiosity.