the past few days have been alternating swirls of boring days and uneventful nights.  i have actually much to talk about — rant about — but it feels like it would require a major motivation on my part to muster enough adjectives, words, and paragraphs to let everything out — and i am in no condition to feign diligence because fact is, i am still caught in the web of complications that have always been there — complications and me: a fatal mix really.

but anyway, i am gearing up for my next adventure: manila. just like the rest, i will be in a very tight rat race — and i just hope i will make it out alive. here’s to luck, of which i am most needing and wanting.

IMF is Dead

The burden for any revisionist advocate in the International Monetary Fund (IMF) brouhaha as exposed by Stiglitz, himself included, is simple: he has to prove that the organization has not been enseeped entirely with the wrong principles, and it still has the potential to rise above its initial demise on what it should ideally be doing, as opposed to what it has done for the past sixty years or so of existence.

Stiglitz himself pointed out the blatant perversion of its once Keynesian principle, but after enumerating the scathing criticisms against the organizational performance of the IMF, he commences in his ranting spree and asserts that change can still be had – that the IMF can still rise above its inherent susceptibility to these external encroachments.

But can it really? Or is he merely being an apologist after strongly antagonizing the IMF?

This paper will attempt to answer as to whether the IMF has, for obvious intents and purposes, abandoned its initial purpose and if this is so, it will try to establish whether revisionism is still an apt tact, or will complete abandonment (and the resurgence of a better-crafted and well-established organization) be a better alternative.

The Initial Problem

It is conceded that the IMF, when it was established in the aftermath of the Second World War, had aspired for a noble ideal: it wanted to help in the distribution of economic wealth and, inevitably, in the advocacy of marginally uplifting the shaky economic foundations of less developed countries, especially those who were hardest hit by the war.

However, these highly-commendable aspirations were not substantially reinforced in terms of organizational thrust nor (in) the tangibility of a complete set of principles that was to guide the IMF in its future discretions. As a matter of fact, Stiglitz himself acknowledged this blatant diversion of its claimed and initial obligation with his observation that the ‘problem is with ideology, not economic analysis and valid observation’.

Note that the problem with ideology, especially those that are firmly anchored in a blind subscription to the fundamental and dogmatic principles behind it, is that it has the tendency to shield itself from outside criticism and carry on with its line of work, even when it has proven to be more destructive than constructive – because this is how fundamental ideologies operate: their convictions are almost always near absolute.

Moreover conflict, adds Benjamin Friedman in his analysis of Stiglitz’s book, happens because even during its early stages, the IMF catered both to the developing countries and to the financial markets – thrusts which are often in conflict with each other, he further adds.

With this in mind, we can very well see that even during its conception as a supranational entity, it was already an organization that had no clear vision of what its priorities were – because although it was infused with the noble ideal of extending benevolence to economically-disparaged countries, it was also fundamentally skewed towards the fiscalization of international affairs. And because we cannot conclusively plot out the certainty as to which side had more substantial gains over the other, it is imperative therefore that we answer this by closely seeing how the IMF fared in the years that followed, specifically during the past decade, and especially in the execution of its duties and functions to the countries which asked for its help.

Track Record

For the past two decades, the IMF has been in the sidelines as several countries that were plagued by helplessness and economic fatalism were continually and blindly led into their demise – or to the more cynical observer, the IMF was in fact the reason why these countries have succumbed to their eventual self-destruction. And this observation is for good reason – we have the East Asian experience of 1997, the Soviet disintegration of 1998, and the Sub-Saharan collapse of 1998.

In all three instances Stiglitz claims that the IMF, in its misguided decisions, only ‘..subverted the growth of democracy, hampered local economic growth, and enriched multinational corporations.’

How did this actually materialize according to Stiglitz?

His main contention is that these developments were largely borne ‘..from a ‘shock therapy’ tact in a rush to market economies without first establishing institutions to protect the public and local commerce, and the local social, political and economic conditions were largely ignored.’ Moreover he adds that ‘..privatization without land reform or strong competitive policies resulted in crony capitalism, large businesses run by organized crime, and a feudal structure without a middle class.’

Let us attempt to localize this contention for better appreciation and for more clarity as regards his claim – and for this purpose, we can take a look at the Indonesian financial collapse of 1998.

During that year, the economy was in steep decline and as a result, Indonesia pleaded for an external intervention, or a financial bailout, in order to stabilize the economy. For its part, the IMF responded by imposing higher taxes and introducing budget cuts as part of its ‘shock therapy’ approach and in order to guarantee that the debt incurred will be paid off eventually – the cuts, mind you, were taken from the state’s initial appropriation for the basic welfare services, i.e. food subsidies and what-not.

Naturally, this resulted to food riots and more civil mayhem than there already were, because the after-events of this ill-fated move proved that the imposition of higher taxes and the substantial cuts to basic welfare services, compounded by the lack of strong local political and social institutions for sustained and prolonged stability, was a lethal and fatal combination altogether.

And even if these glaring examples of ill-informed decisions continued to plague most of the countries that the IMF purportedly wanted to ‘help out’, this same line of tact and strategy was employed time and again, triggering the consistent and systematic collapse of already hard-pressed countries that were desperately gearing up for survival.

In contrast to these unfortunate experiences of countries which strongly implemented the conditions set forth by the IMF, East Asia (specifically South Korea) and China have a different story to tell – and these are awe-inspiring stories which ought to be emulated by those that also aspire for greater economic prosperity in the long haul.

South Korea strongly resisted the IMF conditions during its turbulent economic decline of 1995, whereas China rejected any IMF money in exchange for drastic changes within its economic policies and tax schemes. Note that presently, both countries are considered to be part of the forerunners in the roster of countries that are rapidly industrializing.

This disparity of outcomes highlights the unfortunate observation that even if the IMF has failed in providing for a viable resuscitation mechanism for desperate countries, it should not, at least, be privy to the eventual demise of the same. But a look at how it has fared thus far, and in comparison to the economic prosperity of countries which deliberately digressed from these IMF maneuverings, we see that not only have they been very unhelpful, but they have, in fact, even been uberly-detrimental

Mismanagement by Accident?

One of Stiglitz’s main concerns, and one which he personally feels strongly about, is the apparent lack of transparency in the affairs of the IMF – he detests the closed door meetings and strongly calls for drastic changes in the affairs of the IMF.

But let us not be dismissive nor be oblivious to realpolitik as we raise the question: Is it really coincidental that these meetings inconspicuously happen behind closed doors and not within places that guarantee full public disclosure?

Again, Friedman says that these are not just random mistakes, but a ‘..Washington Consensus’ – which add up to something unattractive, if not outright repugnant, in several different ways..’

These persuasions and this embodiment of their market principles: they define the underlying conviction of the IMF – for these are the tangible gauges of what the IMF has advocated for thus far – and the people which populate its roster of officers and directors are strong testaments to the inherent principles of the organization and the degree of entrenchment that Neoliberalism has within the established psyche of those who sustain the existence of the IMF as an organization.

Right at the onset of the IMF’s creation, it was clearly an extension of the Reagan experiment as it facilitated the diffusion of his own brand of ‘trickle down’ economics into the world setting. However, now we question: Is this still true today?

Again, Friedman tells us that this is the case even today – as a matter of fact, he asserts that even until now, this is betrayed by the fact that both IMF Managing Director Stanley Fischer and Treasury Secretary Robert Rubin both left for multimillion dollar jobs at Citigroup – joining their erstwhile bosses in the IMF as well who have left earlier to work for the corporate giants in the US.

Again, the message that this gives out needs no further elaboration – an average reasonable person can concoct, from these damning expositions, the hidden truths behind the organizational workings of the International Monetary Fun – and the degree of neoliberal entrenchment inevitably makes us ask: is it still viable for us to resuscitate the IMF as a potent distributor for international economic wealth?

Conclusion

Given all these factors, I am of the impression that revisionism will not be a viable strategy for the IMF if it genuinely wishes to redeem itself in the international political and economic scene.

Revisionism presupposes that something can still be done – that intervention is still possible and the organizational workings of the IMF still manifest that it can be infused with a new principle – but fact is, it has failed in those respects, and it would be futile to even attempt to resuscitate the dead.

As substitute to these inherent failings of the IMF, there ought to be a creation of another supranational entity which has established principles and a clear definition of how it will carry out its duties to its member-states – this time, there should be no room for ambiguities because it is often these gray areas which are abused by certain exploitative and opportunistic elements to advance their selfish and self-serving aims.

And with the establishment of a tangible working program for this new body, I personally believe that the IMF can find its redemption as an organization which truly caters to the economic needs of countries who continually look up to the IMF as the beacon of international democracy and worldwide solidarity.

Last night, I had a few good laughs as I stumbled across my first debate portfolio – a blue envelope containing the first set of debate-related papers that I acquired in last year’s Visayas-Mindanao Championships held in Cebu. Back then, I only had a month’s worth of experience as a debater, so during the tournament, I had to put on a confident front and convince everyone that I knew my stuff, even when in reality, I did not understand the juxtaposition of the words ‘paradigm’ and ‘tokenistic’ to the issues surrounding Wowowee and its apparent nature of being exploitative rather than beneficial to the toothless mothers and desperate garbage-pickers who account for its massive fan base.

I felt silly over my adj exam results (pardon to those who are not familiar with debate jargon):

Question number 4: An OO that doesn’t challenge a squirrel may be penalized.

My answer: Yes, he should be penalized but only minimally – after all, everything still hinges upon the prerogatives of the LO, and enduring the aftermath of his lack of dynamism should be enough penalty for him.

Question number 9: Once the OO has accepted the definition of OG, the closing teams may no longer challenge the definition.

My answer: Of course not! (with such enthusiasm mind you J) If the parameters/issues/clashes prove hard to work with, then the closing sides may present a counterprop – it’s the adj’s call later on, depending on what he feels is right or appropriate.

Hahaha!

And by a bizarre twist of fate, and however revolting and downright scary, I got a relatively high score in the adj exam – which catapulted me to the position of adj chair in the first round. Imagine my horror when the teams were already in their seats, waiting for the round to start, and I was panicking inside because I did not know how to formally begin the round with the PM’s speech. Good thing a panelist sensed my apprehension, and so he scribbled these words (that I also retrieved from my debate portfolio, haha) for me to read: I call this house to order on the motion that this house will ban all forms of animal experimentation. I had to refer to his note during the next few rounds because I had to solo adj in the subsequent rounds. Haha! J

Then my adj notes – aah, my adj notes. In retrospect, I was an asshole adjudicator back then. See, I have this ‘personalized’ style of adjudicating, whereby I scribble down notes in the local vernacular – even when a debater says that a certain development is bad, I scribble it down in bisaya, such that it becomes ‘makadaot ni siya’. Haha! Because personally, I understand it more when the language is more intimate and easily comprehensible. But on the downside, I had several comments which I would rather not share because they were downright condescending – yes, I also write down my feelings towards the debater as a person, and his arguments as well. Evil, I know – but then again, this is my way of personalizing my adjudication notes. J

And, just to satiate my strong urge to share some of the highlights of the tournament back then, I will share some of my adj notes which will surely stay with me for the rest of my debate life.

Motion: This house condones anti-drug vigilantes

PM’s Speech: the mechanism will consist of the following: (1) the proper packaging of medicines; (2) how to look for the perfect ingredients; (3) how to disseminate the information that these herbal medicines are available for consumption.

Definition of term: vigilantes – tasked to distribute these herbal medicines.

Arguments: (1) economic development since these products will be distributed to the grassroots; (2) promote a healthy lifestyle as these vegetables can be grown in school backyards; and (3) poor people will be acquainted with the healing power of vegetables.

Hahaha!

So little time, so many debate motions. Cheers guys and see you all in davao!

to all those who were unduly burdened with what had happened, my sincerest apologies. (especially to A)

it was not my intention to muck up that bad, and now, i will need to face the consequences for that night — and i seriously mean it when i say i hope it does not ruin my chances to push thru with davao this october.

but perhaps, this was a much-needed jolt to my uber-indulgent lifestyle, and my penchant for not thinking certain things through.

rest assured, i will now try to temper my impulsiveness with doses of reality, however disruptive (yuck feeler), and not be as adventurous as before.

goodluck clyde — and again, thanks my dear old friends.

I have always dreaded the first day of class for the past three years or so – not because I am concerned with how likeable my classmates will turn out to be, or how horrendous my teacher will be for the entire semester.

My reservation, as a matter of fact and outright concession, actually comes from answering this question during the first day: what is your year, and how old are you?

The first part of the question, I have an easy time answering – as a matter of fact, I have mastered the art of confidently telling people that I am in my senior year, that I am expecting to graduate soon. But the second part of the query, the part where I divulge my age, I get anxious – because as I have managed to do so in past introductions, I often get mixed reactions, from people who try to feign their curiosity and say that I don’t look my age, to those who are less subtle and instantly insinuate that I am a school junkie, a degenerate who has managed to extend his college years unreasonably longer when I should be out in the real world milking big companies dry and, as my good friend RJ put it, doing damage to the world.

I do realize that there is something glaringly odd with the fact that I am aging inelegantly in school while my classmates are getting younger (most of them now were born in the 90s, sheesh, talk about being a dinosaur in college), but if only they ask me why this came to be, I am more than willing to let them in on my life and share snippets of my life story so they will understand, so they will know, and so they will, hopefully, come up with better decisions in their own lives.

Fact is, I am not alone – there are a good number of students who have also extended in college, and if only you spare them a moment to ask what their life story is, I guarantee you that there is a story behind the seeming delinquency and the assumption of them being fatalistically destined for mediocrity – for it is never easy to, day by day, face people who have given up on you and are convinced beyond reason that you will never change and that you will inevitably spend the rest of your life wallowing in misery.

But is it not that life and life decisions are enmeshed in a context where there is constant struggle? Is it not that college affords you that extra shot, that extra chance, when every dream you have starts to fade into obscurity and you desperately try to guard your sanity from slowly dissipating?

I have not always been like this.

In high school, I was considered as one of those who were destined for greatness, and I was convinced as well that I was meant for greater things – but in retrospect, I was not a child of the universe back then. I was confined within a world that was so comfortable and familiar, the kind that was so hard to let go.

Life, back then, was all about getting good grades, adhering to an early evening curfew, and condemning those who did not conform to what was acceptable behavior in society.

Now, I can only cringe in shame for being so sheltered and unquestioning back then, for being so fatally submissive and dismissive, for feeling contented over being a mere observer when I can possibly initiate ripples of change to a society that is plagued by hypocrisy and undiscerned exclusivism.

For in the course of my genuine college exposure, I have learned that sometimes, it’s not about sleeping early at night and savoring scrumptious breakfast meals with your doting and uberly-proud parents, but it is about drinking heavily with your friends after the midterm exams and nursing a head-splitting hangover the next day; that it’s not just about memorizing the prophets and reciting all the virtues in your religion class, but it is about joining an outreach program and extending assistance to those who are marginalized in society; that it’s not just about being safe and foolishly submitting to your teacher’s every whim, but it is about asserting for what is rightfully yours and ensuring that those who belong to the upper echelons of power do not remain unchecked nor unmitigated in their propensity for abuse.

College breaks you and thrusts you into the world in the hopes of altering your predispositions and situating you in a world that throbs with life; it introduces a reality that digresses significantly from the lethargic and oftentimes dehumanizing worldview of resumé-whores who perceive it as trivial and easy.

Fact is, living is not rosy all the time and loving is not always exhilarating – both can scathe you, sometimes irreversibly, and college is where you accept this bitter and disconcerting truth.

And, no matter how some people might take this against me, I am thankful that I have been broken to the world, its intricacies and complications included.

And I am convinced, beyond reason, that no grade can ever quantify my painful acceptance of this gut-wrenching and palpably painful version of what is real – for even if I may have overextended in college, I know that I now have, more or less, what it takes to battle it out in the real world when, hopefully, my formal schooling officially commences this October.

I am Clyde – I am twenty-four, and I am proud of being twenty-four.

hey, i want to see how i write when i’m drunk.

do i forget the comma, or do my conjugations suck? or do i forget my subject verb agreement? or is my spelling wrong?

i honestly don’t give a shit — i just want an honest opinion of how i degenerate when i’m drunk — or how i show snippets of my humanity and fragility when i’ve had too much alcohol. but seriously, i do not fuc*ing care — because no one cares — no one really gives a sh*t — and no one is sincere. haha

mwahlavyah!

as i write and will ramble about my mundane life experiences for the past few days in the next few paragraphs, my parents are on their way to korea — and they will be staying there for a week or so.

and with this, i should be ecstatic; i should be looking forward to more intensive tanduay sessions with a bunch of people whose instincts are dictated by, and whose sole purpose of existence for the time being is, this perverted need: alcohol. my friends who are also battered by the uncertainty of the future; by the inconsistencies of fate; and by the deception of temporary bliss.

i should be — but fact is, i am not.

for once in my life, i want to be invisible — to be in a room where no one notices me, or they choose to ignore me — and for once in my life, i long to be somewhere where i am not expected to be enviously happy nor pathetically optimistic, brimming with feigned bliss and affection, a superficial and lethargically-conjured poster boy for makulay ang buhay sa sinabawang gulay.

i want to be miserable, and i want people not to care — or at least be happy for me and my misery. i want to be in a crowd which looks at me and senses that i am in a bad place, an awful place, but they are not compelled, nor do they force themselves, to reach out and say, with a deceptively ingenuine heart buried deep under the willed, pathetic show of concern and gesture: i know what you are going through — you will be okay.

fact is, you do not know what i am going through — and i will not be okay anytime soon, not now, not tomorrow, not ever.

deep and turbulent currents of doubt and despair brew inside my mind — and for once, i want to wallow in MY misery, and i want people to understand that like their individual shit, i too, am hard to understand.

In the Eyes of a Child

by Alvin Clyde O. Gregorio

‘Innocent Voices’ is a poignant story of innocence, carnage, and idealism in war-torn El Salvador during the 1990’s, just as the country was gripped by a military dictatorship, backed by the United States of America.

It chronicles the travails of an eleven-year old child, Chava, as he desperately lives up to the expectations of his mother and younger siblings of being, quite ironically, the man of the house – this, after the original man of the house, her husband and their father, had abandoned them, in hopes of seeking greener pastures abroad.

With its unapologetic treatment of the storyline, and with hints of humor to couch the thick mist of dread underlying the film’s tone in its entirety, the movie is both unsettling and engaging, serious yet candid, sordid but captivating, and revolting however redemptive.

The movie’s central irony, and one which mystifies and lures the viewer into watching the film even if it’s theme verges on incomprehensible carnage and butchery, is the juxtaposition of unadulterated innocence with the recklessness of man’s anger and spite – and it is this juxtaposition which tugs at the heartstrings, the wretchedness of war made more atrocious by the glaring disparity of a child’s worldview vis-à-vis the general foment of hatred that had so consumed his countrymen –

For all that he needed was a solace, a place where he can strike a balance between claiming his childhood and asserting his raw and newfound authority as the man of the house; an affirmation that his existence meant something, anything.

As I was watching the movie progress, I was perplexed and revolted by the conflation of circumstances that stripped Chava of his innocence, seething with rage over the adeptly-orchestrated deception of Western-constructed freedom, the superficiality of the American notion of liberty, the temporariness of bliss, the incomprehensibility of war, the unjustifiable encroachment of poison in the minds of men, the vulnerability of the young, and the helplessness of the innocent amid the incivility of a world that is so deeply-entrenched in hate, remorse.

For in the aftermath of any war, its justifiability or superfluousness notwithstanding, and when the rubble of violence and despair has settled, how are you to address the questions of a child? How do you get him to understand that war is both inevitable and humane?

No war is ever justified – not to the architects of war, nor to the innocent lives that are, in an instant, thrust into the crossfire.

For in the mind of a child, the rhetoric of eventual freedom and military victory is a hazy concept, an alteration to the natural order of things, a rupture to the societal and social fabric – for in the heart of a child, he can only see the devil masked in a military uniform, consumed with the dark and sole intent of perpetuating evil –

And sometimes, it is essential that we find wisdom in viewing the world from the lens of innocence – to counter the ubiquitousness of evil, and temper the unbridled proliferation of mayhem and madness.

No Neutral Ground

by Alvin Clyde O. Gregorio

Neoliberalism, Harvey-style

Perhaps, David Harvey’s great contribution to political science, in his book, A Brief History in Neoliberalism, is his contention that in this world, there are no trivial concepts, nor do neutral spaces exist.

Apparently for him, all state decisions – may they be radical changes, or shifts which eventuate into mere incremental political erosions – are for a purpose; and that sometimes, fortunately or unfortunately, the perceived ends of opportunistic countries are sugarcoated with (the) universally-appealing notions of democracy, individual justice, and freedom.

Therefore, to the unthinking, undiscerning political observer, the world is pictured as a haven for freedom, a utopia where the state’s behavior is regulated by the collective yearnings of the citizenry; its general thrust geared towards attaining the most ideal state – citizen-centered, and insulated from exterior, ulterior motives.

But Harvey exposes this dismissive fatalism and questions: Are there really neutral concepts?

Harvey goes the extra mile and in fact asserts that these widely accepted values – freedom, democracy, justice – are relative concepts, such that several countries, especially those who nurture hegemonic ideals and are out to subjugate the rest of the world, skew the innate ambiguity of these values, and forward their own interpretation of these celebrated attributes to secure their place in the world order – to concretize their hold on international politics and sustain their unhampered perpetuation in the global set-up, under all circumstances and beyond any condition.

He moreover adds that the threat of subjugation, either in its directly perceivable form or through its altered and/or newly-constructed variety, is sometimes heralded as eventual emancipation that every self-respecting government ought to nurture, in its quest for reinforcing sound governance.

But Harvey stretches this analysis further, and he inevitably asks: But whose freedom is the state fighting for?

Freedom, after all, is a dubious concept – however, owing to its liberal undertones, and the democratic implications for utilizing this oft-abused concept, people have the natural tendency to mistake freedom for farce substitutes to its real and genuine thrust. And this manipulative encroachment can best be seen in the US aggression against Iraq after the September 11 terrorist attacks.

The United States of America, invoking its supposed moral ascendancy in the aftermath of that unfortunate incident, waved the flag of freedom and rallied the people behind its rhetoric of establishing a free world – and it is this assumed leadership which justified their sudden invasion of Iraq, promising freedom to the Iraqi people and vowing to break the shackles of despotism that, they claimed, was characteristic of Saddam Hussein’s reign of terror in that desolate Middle Eastern country.

However, let’s see how this supposed ‘freedom’ was eventually articulated, and examine if indeed, the world’s only superpower was, and still is, within bounds in the course of its unilateral and arbitrary administration of international justice.

It is ironic and glaringly suspicious to note that presently, Iraq is gradually transforming into a Western-constructed democracy – Western-constructed mind you, because we see that right after the Americans were successful in neutralizing the resistance efforts of Hussein, it proceeded to partitioning the country into several lethargic compartments, opening up its rich oil markets to foreign exploitation, because, Bush claims, this is where individual freedom of Iraqis lie: in the liberation of the market and the insulation of the same from direct state maneuverings.

Bear in mind that once Iraq exhibited the minutest semblance of order since the start of the invasion, Bush’s war architects almost instantaneously proposed that they secure the oil rigs and consolidate their hold over the major oil sites in Iraq – and observers then speculated that this move was strategically meant to quell the insuppressible packets of protestations that erupted back in the US, and to silence those who constantly asked: Who is to pay for all the expenses incurred in the war?

Right at the onset, we see two glaring incongruencies within the framework of the Bush plan, relative to their supposed moral high ground, their supposed justification for assuming the role of global police.

First is the establishment of the link between market and individual freedom, no matter how far-fetched and overstretched the link may initially impress, and thus the fiscalization of individual emancipation; and second, is the institutionalization of foreign exploitation over these domestic industries, by virtue of deceptive and to a certain extent, coercive, market trade-offs and the subjugation of local self-determinative initiatives to the whims of the invading, arrogant Western power.

Harvey pounces on this blatant perversion of freedom, and inevitably makes us think: If freedom, a ubiquitously-accepted ideal, can be thwarted for selfish motives, what value then, is safe from being co-opted by these opportunistic elements?

Apparently for Harvey, and to a large extent I agree with him, there is none.

Moreover, his book unearths several myths and exposes a number of orchestrated lies about the sincerity of democracy, as peddled by American strategists. He specifically and extensively discusses the foreign policy of the US and demarcates, quite successfully, the fine line separating the established rationale of American foreign policy – which is hinged on expediency really, realistic and practical spoils, and self-serving motives – and its superficial exterior, a carefully-constructed façade which trumpets its unwavering commitment to maintaining international democracy and worldwide solidarity.

To drive home this point, Harvey ticks off the shared experiences of several countries which were led to this path, and he moreover asserts that these conditional similarities did not just happen out of mere sporadic coincidences, because fact was, and presumably still is, they were thoroughly planned out even before they materialized.

This provides for a perfect segue to my attempt at localizing the neoliberal experience in our country; an alternative historical analysis of how, during the Martial Law years, we were embroiled in the neoliberal encroachment that was spreading like wildfire across the world, unhampered and unregulated.

Neoliberalism, Pinoy-style

Ferdinand Marcos, during the dark ages of his military rule, was a ruthless dictator. Together with his wife in their so-called conjugal dictatorship, they bled the national coffers dry with their lavish and flamboyant lifestyle, their shared penchant for plunder and kleptocratic practices beyond comprehension, and their unregulated political power and clout which, to an obvious extent, they used to exact revenge over the opposing forces to their Bagong Lipunan.

More than these perceived excesses of state power, it was during his ‘reign of terror’ that several dissenters to his arbitrary impositions were gagged and silenced in dark and cold solitary rooms, their human rights trampled upon because they chose to defy the dominating powers, because they opted to resist the devil who was lurking underneath the veil of a strongman, a draconian leader who justified his every abuse with the promise of instilling discipline to a society that was, according to Martial Law-peddlers, in shambles.

However, in the course of reconstructing Philippine society in accordance with the newly-propagated values of his Bagong Lipunan , Marcos made the bold move of suspending individual freedom in the hopes of, quite ironically, upholding social and societal freedom. This, naturally and metaphorically, opened the floodgates of hell and solidified his position as a strongman who was neither checked nor regulated in his executive discretions. And as can be predicted, this ushered in an era of oppression and suppression unparalleled in history, widespread corruption and institutionalized nepotism, and the normalization of abuse in the collective sensibilities of the Filipino people.

Predictably, this resulted to social foment among the ranks of Filipinos who were, in an instant, roused from apathy – they questioned the legitimacy of the military regime and demanded that the democratic mechanisms for checks and balances be reinstated to mitigate the propensity of the dictator for sustaining his atrocious rule – and, in the midst of desperation and desperate times, they collectively cried out: Where was the international beacon of democracy, the US, when it was most needed?

It is quite ironic to point out that while the Filipino populace was seething with rage over Marcos’ fascist rule, he was widely celebrated in the United States as an indispensable agent for democracy in Asia; as his constituents were mired in deep squalor, consumed with anguish, and barely maintaining their fragile sanity, he was hailed as the champion for freedom, by President Ronald Reagan no less.

He, after all, enjoyed steady American support throughout most of his tenure – and to some commentators, this may have been the reason why his dominion over the country was sustained and assured for nearly three decades. The American penchant for deodorizing inhumane regimes provided for legitimacy to his dwindling charisma as a leader –

But it does not commence here, for the crucial question thus becomes: why the unflinching support for someone who clearly bastardized democracy?

Bear in mind that during Marcos’ rule, the battle between communism and democracy was still raging – and considering the desperation of America to secure its victory in third-world democracies, it turned a blind eye each time Marcos committed a crime against his people, for in weighing the trade-off that ensued after these instances of unhindered executive excesses were complacently allowed to happen, this obviously translated into Marcos’ unconditional support to, and unquestioning subservience towards, the American democratic propaganda.

As they coddled Marcos and prodded him on to keep up with his flamboyant ways, there came a point when the institutionalized misprioritisation of the national budget, compounded by the apparent lack of a viable government direction to jumpstart the local economy, compelled Marcos to borrow heavily from supranational entities just to augment the deficits that he incurred, and to sustain his and his family’s extensive philandering of hard-earned taxpayers’ money.

Moreover, owing to his blind submission to the whims and caprices of the United States of America, it was during his time that the influx of foreign, mostly American, investors were encouraged – spelling doom and death to local industries that were still in their infancy years, unable to battle it out in a playing field that was virtually leveled out to accommodate foreign intrusion and interference.

In an instant, we invariably pose the question: What has become of the core value of freedom?

Conclusion

The Philippine neoliberal experience, its intricacies and inherent contradictions notwithstanding, has revealed to us first-hand how the expedient foreign policy of the world’s sole superpower, the United States of America, places more premium on what can be gained than what can be attained.

Because by invoking a legitimacy that is couched on moral soundness and an appeal to what is universally noble and ideal, it can get away with its exploits.

But let us break free from complacency and see the world according to its real characterization – because in essence, there are no neutral concepts – only temporary deceptions, juxtaposed with permanent interests.

perhaps, when things seem too good to be true, and when the stars deceptively conspire to make you believe that you have so much brilliance in you, there is something that lurks within the periphery: a rupture that is inconspicuously veiled underneath the promise of sudden prominence.

last august 4, i celebrated my yearlong marriage to debating — and it was both mind-blowing and exhilarating, celebratory but mournful, and beautiful yet incomplete.

i understood the decision of the judges; that we were only second best in that round — but deep within the recesses of my heart, i feel the trappings of a man that has been, in an instant, broken.

but i don’t argue against this natural impluse, for my justification is simple: how can one temper the proddings of despair from a solitary heart?

it needs to be ruptured, brutally if need be, because it is this unguarded and uninhibited admission that will lead to genuine recuperation.

it was a bittersweet moment — a disconcerting experience that has broken me to the complexities of the human emotions, and the uncertainty of the stars.

i am happy and sad; gratified yet unsatisfied;

complete, however broken.

*written onboard the ferry to bacolod, just as the strong waves against the helpless vessel were fanning the sadness that was brewing inside.