5 Reasons Why Jesse Robredo is a Great Loss

(or 5 amazing things about him as a politician)

Together with a couple of friends, we paid our respects to the man who was both good and great.
PHOTO COURTESY OF MALACANANG

The first title is a reminder to the powers-that-be that these five reasons are exactly the very same qualities that Jesse Robredo’s successor should possess. The second is an invocation, if not a cynic’s self-defense against disappointment, since it puts “amazing” and “politician” in one phrase.

1. He served the people.

And he served especially the least of them, the informal settlers. Despite his middle-class upbringing, Jesse Robredo did not blame the “squatters” for most of society’s ills: the crimes against property (or what Anti-Poverty Commission Undersecretary Jude Esguerra calls the Jean Valjean crimes), the trash, and the floods. He saw them as people trapped in a system that forced them to live as rats, in sewers and sewer-like conditions.

While one Cabinet member talked about “blasting” them away from the danger zones by creeks and waterways at the height of the habagat floodings, Robredo was meeting with them almost every day, hammering out the details of their immediate relocation within the city, following the P50-billion multi-year shelter program that he cobbled together with urban-poor groups and shelter-as-human-right advocates.

2. He shared power.

The nature of power is to amass more power. It is jealous and greedy. Robredo fought the nature of power -- and won. How was he not devoured by the system? He invented a better one.

When he was first elected mayor of Naga City, he immediately institutionalized participative democracy, a difficult concept to actualize -- even for activists who had used it in slogans and tried to give life to it in “collectives.” He established a system whereby the organized sectors (urban poor, women, labor, elderly, disabled, etc.) were given space in all aspects of governance -- from brainstorming to implementation to monitoring to fine-tuning/correcting the plan. Unheard of in politics, especially in feudal Philippines.

While Bayani “BF” Fernando achieved practically the same things for Marikina City—a clean and healthy environment, efficiently delivered public and social services, and international awards, Robredo did not use an iron fist.

3. He was an activist -- without claiming to be one.

He acted. He initiated. He made things happen. Solve traffic mess, check. Eliminate jueteng, check. Streamline bureaucracy, check. Plus a host of other things. He was a kindred spirit to many activists who chose to engage the government, find solutions to pressing problems, and make an impact on people’s lives -- instead of simply finding fault. In his wholistic approach to governance, he minded that the means is also the end.

4. He is world-class.

His innovations are recognized by his people (those who benefited from his efforts) and by international bodies (those who want to replicate them). These are some of the awards -- in a variety of categories -- that Naga City received because of what Robredo started:

* Housing Rights Protector Award: Center for Housing Rights and Evictions (COHRE), Geneva, Switzerland, City Government of Naga honoured with Housing Rights Protector Award for its exceptional commitment to the human right to adequate housing | December 5, 2007

* Cost Effective (City Category) in the search for Asian Cities and Regions of the Future (for year 2005-2006): Conferred by London-based Foreign Direct Investment (FDI) Magazine London, United Kingdom

* Global 107 Best Practices, 2004 Dubai International Awards, i-Governance Program of Naga City (Best Practices in Improving the Living Environment): Conferred by the United Nations - Habitat and the Municipality of Dubai

* Recipient, United Nations Public Service Awards, Application of Information and Technology (ICT) in Local Government: Local eGovernment: Conferred by the United Nations - Department of Economic and Social Affairs (UNDESA), United Nations Public Service Day | June 23, 2004

* Recipient, Award for Women-Friendly City, Contest of Gender Responsive Local Government for Asia Pacific: Conferred by the United Nations Human Settlements Programme (UN-HABITAT), Fukouka, Japan | March 8, 2004

* Recipient, CyberCity Award for Asia-Pacific, For Developing Effective & Efficient Model of Utilizing ICT for promoting good governance: Conferred by Urban Governance Initiative (TUGI), United Nations Development Programme (UNDP) Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia

* Finalist, World Habitat 2002, Naga Kaantabay sa Kauswagan Program:  Conferred by the Building and Social Foundation and UN-HABITAT, World Habitat Day | Brussels, Belgium

* Finalist, World Habitat 2001, Naga Kaantabay sa Kauswagan Program: Conferred by the United Nations Center for Housing Settlement (UNCHS)

* Acclaimed as one of the Most Improved Cities in Asia: Asiaweek Magazine, November 1999

* Awards Winner, Naga City Participatory Planning Initiatives, 1998 Dubai International Award for Best Practices in Improving the Living Environment, Municipality of Dubai and the United Nations Human Settlements Programme (UN HABITAT), Municipality of Dubai, United Arab Emirates

* HABITAT II TOP 40 Best Practices, Naga Kaantabay sa Kauswagan Program:  United Nations Center for Human Settlements (UNCHS), Istanbul, Turkey

5. He is a good and great man.

A unique combination of these traits, he himself required it from those who would join government, only he called them matino at magaling. By all accounts, he was a happy worker. No job is too small for him to do, no dream too big for him to realize.

EPILOGUE

My first encounter with him was in late 2004 when I was doing research for an article on great cities for the local Good Housekeeping magazine. (I’d like to think his Good Housekeeping Seal of Approval to performing local government units was an idea he got from that piece.) Naturally, Naga City was on the list. I wasn’t able to interview him for the news feature, but was satisfied with the interviews of the empowered people of his government and his community.

So when I saw him later at the Senate several years back (Gloria Macapagal-Arroyo was still president then), I approached him, introduced myself, and told him how that writing assignment turned me into a Robredo fan. He remembered the article and told me it was posted on the Naga City website. I told him what he did in Naga City must be replicated throughout the country, and that he needed a job with a national scope. That was my second encounter with him.

His death is a personal loss because he could’ve done much more.

I would have liked to see the results of his experiment at the Autonomous Region in Muslim Mindanao (ARMM). I wonder how he would have navigated the intricate, long-standing issues that have kept ARMM at the bottom of every governance test. My third encounter would be when I join the multitude of other Jesse’s girls and boys who have been inspired by his example, to pay our last respects to an amazing human being.

**

Writer's note: This article first appeared in the news website interaksyon.com, 8:18 p.m., 22 August 2012. But old articles have since disappeared. Thankfully, I found a copy at: http://hagitsapanahon.blogspot.com/2012/08/5-reasons-why-jesse-robredo-is-great.html

Facing Racism as Chinoy

Blogger's note: This was published with the title, "This Azkal barks, 'I am 100 percent Pinoy'", on 18-Mar-12, 2:25 PM under my byline in InterAksyon.com when the Philippines' conflict with China over the latter's nine-dash-line claim was just starting. I intend to write another on the topic as the conflict rages on.

Courage @Tian An Men Square, June 1989

MANILA, Philippines - I'm 100 percent Azkal. My mother is a chocolate-colored Pinay, her father's Spanish blood thinned by her indio mother and sunny Philippine weather. My father's last name can be traced back to the first emperor of the Middle Kingdom. This imperial connection may be the reason why everyone says, lakas ng dugo ng tatay mo. Sans his 5'11" height, I am really my father's mini-me. 

Despite my genealogy, I'm 100 percent Filipino, never mind that my looks seem a betrayal (or more precisely in the face of the Spratlys dispute, a treason). My yellow face standing out in a jeepney full of brown faces has repeatedly brought me back to the question: Filipino ba ako? O Tsino? (The language in which that question is always framed should have been a major clue.)

Variations of "what is a Filipino" have nagged me all my life, as people around me -- friends and family included -- point to how different I look. (Only my only brother and I take after our father's looks; the four others are a safe mix -- in this milieu.)

When I was a toddler (and Vietnam War was raging), I remember neighbors coo-coo'ing "Vietcong" to me. When I was in grade school, I remember strangers my age spitting out Tsekwa or Intsik or Bejo at me when I encounter them on the street. (I don't know the etymology of Tsekwa. I would later learn that Intsik may have come from the Fookien words for "his uncle" and Bejo from the Spanish word for "old man.")

In my presence, some colleagues (including Leftists who should know better about class wars) would ascribe to the Chinese a ruthlessness in business dealings (to which I'd like to say, is a function of class, not race, and greed, not DNA imprint). They'd give this commentary in my presence and then apologize to me as if I was responsible for the behavior of capitalists.

I also get it from the other bloodline. Mindlessly assuming that I'm one of them, my "pure" (what a Nazi word) Chinese classmates would carelessly use the Chinese words for Filipino women to refer to their maids -- and this was years before the Oxford Dictionary brouhaha. Even if I knew that there was nothing wrong with being a maid, the assumption that all Filipino women are maids is, number one, false, and number two, insulting; and therefore, number three, hurtful. 

But this derision I get from the Yellow side (intentional or otherwise) does not sting as much as when it comes from the Brown side. Maybe because it makes me feel not completely welcome here. Maybe because despite my face, I identify myself more as Filipino. My Mandarin is Greek to the waitresses in Beijing. I got lost in a recent reunion of Chinese friends from high school. They were talking too fast and I couldn't get past the subjects in their sentences. And a tutee once told me my Chinese made me sound like a probinsyana.

The books that sustained me growing up were Chaim Potok, Richard Wright, and John Steinbeck, speaking to me about racism or sexism and other isms that deal with being put down for things beyond your control: your race, your sex, your family (and the class and religion that it naturally passes on to you).

Compared to the racism of the Ku Klux Klan and the Aryan Supremacy groups in the US and the West, the Filipino brand of racism is pretty blunt. The Chinese in the Philippines have been assimilated here. And many have come to celebrate this duality and have called themselves "Chinoys" to try and describe the band they occupy in the race/color spectrum. Like the Fil-Ams in the States.

Again, what makes a Filipino a Filipino? For many, the question may confront them only when they're abroad and people try to guess where they're from: Are you Chinese, Viet, Thai, or Indonesian? Even abroad, people don't mistake me for Filipino. At a bus station from Amsterdam to Utrecht, a young woman approached a young man with a guitar and asked him, "Filipino ka rin?" and started a conversation. A couple of inches away from them, I tried to fight the lonely need to connect and simply listened to their happy banter. Many will meet this question officially when they have to switch nationality/citizenship.

When TV broadcaster Arnold Clavio made the insensitive "Di naman sila lahing kayumanggi" comment, I wasn't too hurt for these East-West hybrids, who are worshipped and adored here. I'm pretty sure these kicking, head-balling athletes are discriminated against in their other home country. That's why they like it here. But I like that the question is being asked again. It sharpens their sense of Filipino, which for better or for worse, includes its distinct type of racism. 

Racism is not only about ignorance, it is also about dominance. In the materialistic world, he who has the gold sets the standards of morality and beauty. Identity is more than shared language or experience, it is also shared aspirations. You can claim the land as yours when it has claimed one of your relatives, according to Gabriel Garcia Marquez, not unlike watering the land with blood. For me, the sweat and tears of these mutts will do, playing their hearts out for the Philippine flag.

From 100 percent confounded, I'm 100 percent grateful that my ancestors (from poverty-escaping Chinese and conquistadores Spanish) chose this land, which is kinder to me than if I'd been born in boy-centric China. I'm also 100 percent proud because Azkals (or mongrels or half-breeds) are the future. Products of love despite the differences, we create an inclusive, tolerant world. More than getting the best of two worlds, we navigate at least two realities, living in but not quite belonging to either, more understanding and more forgiving. Think Bono of U2, of Protestant mother and Catholic father. Think Barack Obama, of a white mother and a Kenyan* father. Think every OFW in a foreign land. 

*corrected from Nigerian

www.interaksyon.com/article/27168/this-azkal-barks-i-am-100-percent-pinoy

Six surprises in (un)covering Myanmar

Going to Myanmar as a journalist was unthinkable only six months ago

By Veronica C. Uy, Published in the PJR Reports, March-April 2012

unintended selfie

1. I am going to Myanmar.

Going to Myanmar as a journalist was unthinkable just six months ago. Journalists used to go as tourists and ran the risk of arrest, detention, and deportation when doing their job. I got the call Sunday night that we were scheduled to leave Wednesday for the following Sunday’s by-elections.

What new me would come out of Myanmar?

For giving away leaflets in a market on the 10th anniversary of the 8888 Student Movement, an activist-friend, now migrant-rights advocate Ellene Sana, was detained for a week in a “military guest house” on charges of fomenting unrest before she was deported. The delightful anticipation of covering an off-beaten place (we thank the Department of Foreign Affairs [DFA] for including media in the official Philippine team of election observers), if not an off-beat topic, was curbed by journalist-friends’ admonition to be careful of the “ruthless junta.”

2. Myanmar is a place for time-travel.

Myanmar belongs to a small, exclusive club of countries hardly touched by 21st century technology. Other remote places are naturally detached from the rest of the world due to distance or inhospitable climate. The dictatorship of its military junta and the resulting economic sanctions have isolated it so that it has achieved what 1970s crooner Jim Croce wanted, Time in a Bottle. Myanmar could be the Philippines of that decade, with its aircon-less and decrepit taxicabs and buses, its intermittent phone (and Internet) connections, and power-supply fluctuations (its five-a-day brownouts can make you feel you’re in Mindanao), and well, its dictatorship.

On the eve of the elections, when Daw (Lady) Aung San Suu Kyi took a trip to the district of Kawhmu, a largely rural area dominated by the ethnic group Karen a couple of hours away from Yangon, my boss Roby Alampay and I joined a convoy of vehicles that followed her. We were told that the place did not have hotels or inns, so we brought enough clothes, food, and water for an overnight stay in the van.

We went ahead of the pack, and took pictures and videos and interviewed Suu Kyi supporters at major stops, then waited for her convoy that included journalists from all over the world. After allowing the elections and The Lady’s candidacy and campaign, the junta is unlikely to cause her any harm. But hey, we wanted to make sure.

By sunset (we left Yangon around 3 p.m.), and on a dusty road (this is an exaggeration, the road was more like a dried river-bed with rough dirt waves and troughs threatening to disassemble our van), it became clear why The Lady and her National League for Democracy (NLD) planned this: They wanted us to see what under- or non-development has brought to the people of Myanmar.

If you ignore the poverty and the people’s hardship, one can easily fall into the trap of romanticizing a Myanmar in suspended animation, especially in Yangon, where hotels provide the convenience and comfort of running water, pre-ordered food, electricity, and Internet connection. The people we interviewed were sickly and undernourished (although surprisingly not miserly with their generosity and their appreciation of the small opportunity for democracy and progress that the junta was allowing).

3. Covering peace can be exciting.

Conflict is the stuff of primetime news, or as fellow Myanmar by-elections Philippine observer Tony Velasquez said, “‘pag walang dugo, di e-ere (no blood, no airing).” But after decades of conflict, the junta seems ready to give the people a chance.

The thought first struck me at the garden of Suu Kyi’s sprawling lakeside mansion about two hours before the scheduled 9 a.m. press conference. Against a background of blaring campaign songs, with siblings in journalism of all colors and shapes milling about, the air vibrated with excitement. The warm 40-degree wind cooled as it passed the trees. A day earlier, the Myanmar foreign minister had announced that media coverage of the elections was free-for-all, with reasonable restrictions against delaying or stopping the electoral process.

The Burmese exiles who have since returned—really, freedom fighters who fought with their pens, guns, and wits—could not hide their cautious optimism. “The people seem to be smiling more,” they said.

The following day, when the NLD was announcing that they had won most of the 44 seats they were gunning for, the singing and the dancing in the streets reminded me a little of Edsa People Power in 1986. The hip-hop campaign jingle that called on “Myanmar (to) wake up” stung my small eyes.

see video here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2TyMmedKS98&feature=share

4. The size of the sacrifice determines the size of the god.

Aung San Suu Kyi is a god among her people. She symbolizes their suffering, their struggle, and their strength. She had given up being a wife and mother to be with her people. She was in Myanmar when her husband Michael Aris died of prostate cancer in London on March 27, 1999. He had petitioned the junta to allow him to visit Suu Kyi one last time, but they had rejected his request. He had not seen her since a Christmas visit in 1995. The junta had always urged her to join her family abroad, but she knew that she would not be allowed to return. She did not see her sons Alexander and Kim until about 20 years after, in 2010 when the junta started its reforms, among them releasing her from house arrest and allowing her sons to visit.

Following her convoy, we felt her people’s adoration, receiving their residual love as they gave us flowers and cheered us on, as if we were somehow instrumental in the small freedoms of expression that they were enjoying and that they hope would soon translate into freedoms from want and hunger.

As a mother, whose greatest gift are my children, I realized that normal, average life is a blessing I enjoy because some had chosen—perhaps tentatively—to become divine during the dark days of our own martial law.

5. So this is what a parachute journalist feels like.

Even while I’ve written about Myanmar as a reporter covering the DFA, the articles were usually in relation to diplomacy, or the Philippines’ and the international community’s efforts to persuade the military junta to a roadmap to democracy, and then actually following that roadmap. But in Myanmar, I came and went, inspired by stories of charm and courage.

6. Sunsets can be pink.

In the afternoon of April 2, on the way to the airport, a pink sun bid us goodbye. Nobody in the moving van—particularly the visiting Filipinos used to glorious, fiery sunsets—was able to capture it.

____________________________________________________________

Former Inquirer.net reporter Veronica Uy now reports for Interaksyon.com