NIKE

THOUGHTS UNLIMITED
Eugene Balitang

NIKE. I thought it was the shoes. This was when I received the letter asking me to be one of the judges in the inter-school debate during the recent Gotad ad Ifugao. Alas, it was not the shoes, or rather, the popular shoe brand. NIKE stands for Nurturing Indigenous Knowledge Experts. After the final round of the debate, I asked Architect Rachel Guimbatan about it and she was kind enough to email me the meat of it, which, for the sake of column space, I hereunder quote according to my “editorial” skill, here goes:

NIKE is implemented by an association, yes. The implementing members are the NCIP, Dep-Ed, ISCAF, SITMO, with the Provincial Government acting as coordinator. These are members of the Ifugao Provincial Heritage Council created under E.O. 30 which is supposed to act as the policy-making body for culture-related projects such as NIKE and those on the performing arts. The existence of NIKE currently gives teeth to this council.

What is NIKE for? It is a project that responds to what the hudhud chants, native dances, beauty contests, and Gotad festivities could not really act on no matter how often they are performed. While these are equally important in values formation, NIKE works on revitalizing the intellectual heritage of the Ifugaos focusing on philosophies, principles, and scientific systems that built those rice terraces.

We are referring to that sophisticated heritage that puts to shame modern agricultural, engineering, and conservation planning systems. Thus, NIKE’s objective, among others, is educating civil engineers not to design irrigation systems (alak) as drainage systems (liglig), otherwise they will cause more landslides, or campaigning for agriculturists to pay more attention to the moon and the sun, or promoting conflict resolution strategies of the munkalun.

The project tries to break the myth that development undermines conservation through human resource development. It intends to assist knowledge transfer between the older generation of Ifugao knowledge holders and the younger generation of Ifugaos, particularly in the sciences dealing with natural resource management, terrace construction and building techniques, and rice production, through alternative and modern education channels, with the end in view that Indigenous Knowledge systems and its principles are carried on and applied in every development intervention on the Ifugao landscape by the emerging generation of Ifugao leaders and professionals.

Rachel went on to state that the factors that had weakened the knowledge link between the old and the young Ifugaos, factors which are now manifested in the deteriorating state of the Ifugao Rice terraces, are: 1) modernization/loss of interest in our ancient ways, 2) formal education, which demands eventual outmigration, causing the social and intellectual disconnect between the young and the old folks, 3) low income/limited economic opportunities, and 4) Christianity, which had perhaps sealed the gap by removing the spiritual dimension that is essential in keeping these important conservation practices alive.

The debate among the high schools revolved on the general proposition of whether or not to include indigenous knowledge in our formal educational system in Ifugao. I have long forgotten the arguments of the students, but I will surely ponder the matter in the near future. Being a true-blue Ifugao, born no less in Banaue where the famous 8th Wonder of the World is situated, I owe it to myself and my people to at least “debate” on the matter. At least for now, I know that NIKE is not about the shoes. (ebalitang@yahoo.com.ph)

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Josie

THOUGHTS UNLIMITED
Eugene Balitang

LAGAWE, Ifugao- - It was a rainy Saturday night and I’m stuck at home with the blues. With time to kill, I plugged in our Globe USB internet connection, and by sheer luck, reception was good on GPRS and I was able to connect on Facebook, the latest craze when it comes to cyber social networking (better and faster than Friendster, if I may add). And what do I have?

Dear sweet Josie confirming my invitation for her to be added on my friends’ list. And to top it all, she sent a message on the network chat. Thus followed our cyber tete-a-tete. After disposing of the usual pleasantries, we immediately plunged into our common topic—politics and politicians!

Ah, Josie. She can turn heads on any given day, this I can bet my last peseta. My friend and panyero Modz had surely hit the jackpot when she decided to tie the matrimonial knot with him in that little chapel in Panubtuban, Asipulo. I stood with my only pair of Americana among their principal sponsors when they exchanged their “I dos.”

Yes, Josie. You would not believe that this cute and petite wife and mother had fought in the mountains and ravines of Asipulo during the 2007 political battle, fighting a 3-corner mayoralty race against homegrown and seasoned politicos. It was an uphill and no-win battle, but this was only in retrospect, how are we to know then.

We both took our oath before Senator Edgardo J. Angara (SEJA), making us the top standard-bearers of LDP in Ifugao in the 2007 political battle that we’re talking about, the alliance being one of coincidence than by choice—I was then bolting the divided LP while she just resigned as SEJA’s assistant chief of staff to fight her political battle in her native Asipulo. Alas, we both lost. This is the tragedy.

Josie had long moved on and is now the Director of Media Affairs and Publications of the University of Baguio , while I stayed in dear old Ifugao to await my second chance at the title fight—the gubernatorial post of the province. And this is where our roads differ. Josie had moved on and away, only to be beckoned back by her political allies, friends and general “suckers” for their own political ends. I stayed, only to be dismayed by detractors, foes and general “mental-crabbers” who would be salivating if I will make it.

And thus, our chat on that Saturday night focused on Josie’s dilemma. She has a great job, a happy and settled family and an offer to work overseas, with the possibility of bringing her family with her. And now she’s in a crossroad again, the soft beckoning of Asipulo turning into a shout.

And for want of any Solomonic advice to impart, I simply told Josie that she should consider herself lucky—she has options to choose from, others never had any choice, perpetually stuck in the rut they are in, day in and day out. She signed out when he heard her hubby Modz honking their van. I lingered on Facebook browsing friends’ profiles, pondering my own options. Alas, there is only one path for me to thread—to fight again in 2010. (ebalitang@yahoo.com.ph)

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Noynoy for president

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Eugene Balitang

LAGAWE, Ifugao -- After the hype and the not-so-subtle ploy for dramatics in what he referred to as his period of discernment, we now have a presidential candidate in the person of Kris Aquino’s only brother dear Noynoy. Earlier, we had the personification of self-sacrifice for the sake of unity in the person of Mr. Palengke Mar Roxas.

I was overtaken by events just when I was about to teach my kids to shout “Oras Na! Mar Roxas Na!” – a slogan I learned when I attended a seminar in Quezon City where the speaker was Joe Hansen, US President Obama’s campaign strategist during the 2008 US presidential campaign. I even brought home from the said seminar a key chain with Mar’s moniker Mr. Palengke emblazoned on it, along with a wall clock with Mar’s trademark photograph in his blue polo shirt and eyeglasses.

Alas, the clock stopped ticking three days after I nailed it on the wall in our living room, perhaps a premonition that Mar’s presidential cart will conk out miles before he even files his candidacy. Alas, if the surveys are to be taken at face value, I guess Mar has taken the better course of action, grabbing the first opportunity of what we call a “graceful exit.”

I used to be a member of the Liberal Party (LP) until the infamous “split” in its leadership between those pro-GMA and those anti-GMA, or what we refer to more popularly as the LP-Atienza and LP-Drilon factions. The Supreme Court has long settled the matter in favor of the Drilon faction. This split happened before the 2007 elections, prompting me then to seek a party to carry me in my pitiful gubernatorial bid in our province of moma-chewing mountaineers. I ended up taking my oath before Senator Edgardo Javier Angara (SEJA) at the Loakan Airport and presto, I was Laban ng Demokratikong Pilpino’s (LDP) gubernatorial standard-bearer. That was in 2007.

The first time I joined LP was in 2001 when my office boss and law practice mentor, Atty. Solomon R. Chungalao, was running for congressman in our province. We literally grabbed the first party that came our way after failing to join Lakas-CMD, then the dominant party in Ifugao at that time. We held on to LP and Atty. Chungalao won his first term.

When 2004 came, I succumbed to the wiles of politics as it softly beckoned, so I joined Atty. Chungalao’s LP slate, naturally. I won a seat as Board Member in the second local legislative district of Ifugao. And Atty. Chungalao won his second term as solon for our lone congressional district.

Then came 2007 and the aforementioned split happened. I lost in my gubernatorial bid under the banner of SEJA’s LDP. Atty. Chungalao won his third term as congressman. I stayed in Ifugao and went back to the only job I know, that of practicing law, or what I euphemistically call as peddling lies and poetry.

And now 2010 is just around the bend. We still have LP standing tall as ever, with Noynoy Aquino as its presidential bet. And the questions that I have to ponder as the days tick would include: Will I re-join LP? Or, will LP take me back? Will there be a coalition where LDP and LP will join hands? Is Noynoy really the distilled product of two prominent and worthy national figures? Above all, do I believe in Noynoy as President of this poor republic of smiling carabaos (to borrow classmate Gabby Keith’s phrase in another paper)? Ah, I shall ponder these matters as the days go by. (ebalitang@yahoo.com.ph)

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PD Anton

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Eugene Balitang

LAGAWE, Ifugao -- We have a penchant for calling each other by our “titles,” be it our profession, our present position, or our status in the community. Thus, instead of calling each other by our names, we refer to each other as attorney, engineer, governor, don, and the like. And what used to be just plain Manong Anton is now PD Anton, referring to his present position as Provincial Director (PD) of the Department of the Interior and Local Government (DILG)—Ifugao Field Office. He is DILG-Ifugao Provincial Director Anthony I. Ballug.

This piece is long overdue. It is supposed to be my warm welcome for his coming to our province as our DILG PD. And that was sometime last May of this year. But as the adage goes, better late than later, or something like that. So, with all the warmth that comes from my heart, I say welcome to Ifugao, PD Anton! Hagiyo!

But, on hindsight, I guess it was a good thing that this piece was put in the backburners. PD Anton assumed office last May at a time when our provincial government was reeling from the aftermath of the tectonic movement that caused a fissure between the offices of our Provincial Governor and our Sangguniang Panlalawigan (SP).

This rift was brought on, among others, by the much-debated SOTAH (the so-called State-Of-The-Art Hospital) that others said was carried downstream in the Ibulao river as our officials bickered and hawed. It was a time when our senior citizens were gearing for battle on account of what they perceived was an injustice against them for the alleged slashing by the SP of what is due them in the provincial budget.

The aftershock of this provincial upheaval was felt in the municipal LGUs down to the barangays. In fact, in some municipalities, their Sangguniang Bayan took their cue from the SP and their municipal legislators were also demanding a piece of the municipal budget as their discretionary fund. This was the welcome scene for our new PD last May.

While I may have painted a bleak picture of a very unwelcoming atmosphere, this is actually the stuff that makes heroes out of ordinary men. After all, what is DILG for if not to untangle the knotted cords spun by the contending factions of our local governments.

PD Anton has earned his title in the labyrinth of the DILG regional office and Ifugao will surely be the best gauntlet that would measure his true worth in the field. And if I may add, if PD Anton can make it in Ifugao, he can make it anywhere in these island of one hundred and seven thousand. And I know without a shadow of doubt that PD Anton is definitely worth his salt. He would be RD someday. But for now, Ifugao, in these trying times, is lucky to have him at the helm of the DILG Ifugao Field Office as our PD.

Good luck and more power, PD Anton!

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Health agenda

THOUGHTS UNLIMITED
Eugene Balitang

LAGAWE, Ifugao -- With politics fast becoming the popular topic in the corner-store and in our favorite coffee hole, our well-meaning coffee buddies often ask what would be our main focus if elected (you can guess what hehe). Without losing a breath, we always say: economy, education and health.

Yes, health is an indispensable part of our 3-point agenda. We will approach this on the extreme: prevention of illness on one end and cure on the other end. As we try to prevent illness from happening, we should be ready to have the cure when the illness happens.

Prevention is intimately intertwined with our two agenda (Economy and Education). The main reason for our malnourished kids and our susceptibility to illness is our poverty. Poor families concentrate on the basic necessities; alas, nutrition needs (e.g. milk, eggs, vitamins) are not in their purchase list. A simple flu or an ordinary cough will metamorphose into more complicated illnesses as even the most common medicines for these ordinary illnesses are beyond the financial reach of our poor folks.

Compounding our poverty is our "lack of education." Our educational system has stuck to the traditional 3Rs (Reading, wRiting, aRithmetic) and nothing more. Knowledge on basic hygiene is as foreign as a man from Mars. On this note, our plan is to continue with the AYYOD and ILHZ programs of Gov. Teddy, but with emphasis on the re-training of Barangay Health Workers (BHW) and Barangay Nutrition Scholars (BNS) as forefronts in "preventive health care." We shall establish barangay health clinics (if funds are available), extend financial and technical support to our Rural Health Units (RHU) in coordination with our municipal LCEs, and establish a working "botika sa barangay" in far-flung barangays in coordination with our senior citizen groups (so they'll have something to occupy their time apart from staging rallies at the provincial capitol compound hehe).

Cure, on the other hand, will entail the conversion of the Ifugao General Hospital (IGH) into the much-touted State-Of-The-Art-Hospital (SOTAH) that had recently highlighted the “rift” between our Provincial Chief Executive and our Sangguniang Panlalawigan. But, on this score, we would rather focus first on improving the management of IGH than in building a bigger hospital building.

Apart from our outspoken Machiavellian approach of systematically closing all the other six provincial hospitals in order that we can concentrate our meager provincial health funds on one SOTAH, we are actually toying with the idea of operating our IGH as an economic enterprise (much like Benguet General Hospital). Or, we shall convert the IGH as a sort of Government-Owned-or-Controlled Corporation (GOCC) where the Provincial Government is the majority shareholder and we open the minority shares to the public.

The affairs of the IGH will be managed by a 7-member board of directors where the Governor and the Provincial Health Officer are ex-oficio members; the rest of the members of the board shall be elected at large by the shareholders other than the PLGU. There would be an element of profit-making in this scheme, but we shall institutionalize a system where the "profit" will be plowed back to subsidize charity patients and wards. But then, if we get elected… Let’s dream on.

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Ifugao culture: Root of violence against women and children

THOUGHTS UNLIMITED
Eugene Mariano Balitang
(2nd of two parts)

Our cultural treatment and perception of women and children had metamorphosed in today’s modern world into something else—violence! As our women now are being empowered and the modern world’s concept of equality between men and women is slowly seeping in our in our society’s consciousness, the cultural tradition of male superiority is desperately grabbing a foothold and making a stand—the result is violence.

Unable now to keep their women in the kitchen, husbands resort to all forms of violence just to assert their cultural concept of manhood. Children are now vocal in their ideas and opinions, in voicing out their feelings and thoughts! And when the children are not being heard, or they feel they are not a part of the family, the tendency is for them to express their feelings in wanton and destructive outlets—cigarettes, alcohol, drugs; their unmet need to be loved and be part of the family is temporarily solved by their peers and barkada—later on, dating, pre-marital sex then teenage pregnancy!

Another culture I like to touch on is our perception of SEX. This is not about mere gender, but about the differences between a boy and a girl who would both eventually become man and woman—and eventually enjoy sex! Take note—sex is enjoyable (unless you haven’t experienced it yet) and is actually a gift from the Lord—the first gift He gave Adam and Eve after marrying them—then children came later.

While the subject of sex, be it the process of growing up or the intercourse itself, is a natural part of our life cycle and is innate in our being humans, talking about this matter openly (even between husband and wife) is often considered taboo in Ifugao culture.

The tendency therefore is that children growing into adolescence have no one to express their fears and to ask their questions about the sudden changes in their physical attributes. Parents do not discuss these matters to their children since it is agagaiho (taboo) or mapaniyo (sacred).

Thus, the children are left to discuss their sexuality among themselves—it’s a case of the blind leading another blind. And in discussing sex among themselves, adolescents often end up “discovering” the joys of the act among themselves—and although they are ready to enjoy the blissful act, these kids are not ready to take on the consequences and the responsibility that comes after the “discovery.”
How many parents openly discuss circumcision with their sons and menstruations with their daughters? And yet, these are basic topics on sex. And since the role of the Ifugao woman is summed up in her bearing sons for the ricefields and for the war, her feelings about sex is often not important. As to whether she enjoys intercourse is a secondary issue to her ability to give birth. And for as long as the husband enjoys the wife whenever he wants to, that is regarded as good sex!

This Ifugao perception that open discussion of sex is taboo is often our frustration in court whenever we are prosecuting sexual offenses; albeit this is advantageous if you are defending the accused. Oftentimes, victims of sexual abuses cannot openly talk about what happened to them. Even on direct examination, they cannot tell their story—and I know that this is more due to the shame and the guilt brought about by the way they were raised concerning the subject on sex—for the victim, it is a shame to talk openly (especially to strangers) about your genitalia or sex, for that matter.

Thus, in a relentless cross-examination, the victim’s testimony will almost always crumble into pieces. Even adult women who are victims of rape cannot even tell the story of their ordeal, so how much more for a child-victim. In fact, due to this perceived taboo of discussing sex openly, family members always try to hush the victim. Sexual abuses go unreported because the involved families always settle matter amicably among themselves (often times without considering the feelings and thoughts of the victim).

These are but a few of our cultural psyche and collective perception in Ifugao that I believe contributes to the culture of violence against women and children that are now proscribed under RA 9262. Of course, I hope it’s only my opinion. – ebalitang@yahoo.com.ph

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Ifugao culture: Root of violence against women and children

THOUGHTS UNLIMITED
Eugene M. Balitang
(First of two parts)

The very fact that there are incidents of violence against women and children in our very own province is alarming, considering that we always pride ourselves, as Ifugaos, to be peace-loving people governed with high moral and ethical standards of conduct. And the fact that these incidents are increasing during the past years is twice alarming. And mind you, the incidents we’re talking about are only those that are documented! Meaning, these are the incidents that were reported!

Those which go unreported, especially in the barangays far from the poblacions, are twice (or even thrice) the number of the reported incidents of violence against women and children. And among the documented incidents, only a few go thru the judicial grind until the perpetrator receives his just penalty for his transgression.
Without the slightest intention of demeaning my forebears and tribesmen, may I state that our very own culture and tradition on how we regard our women and children is sometimes the root of the problem.

When I was growing up, there is this prevailing culture of treating women and children as secondary to grown up men. Right from birth, the family fully rejoices when the newborn is a boy and is only half-happy when the baby is a girl (sayote manen, pangbayad utang). When I think about this, perhaps this mental attitude is rooted in the fact that in the generations before us, men are more in demand to work on the ricefields, build native houses, hunt food—and to march to battle in our meaningless tribal wars.

Thus, grown men are elevated to a status of importance in the society. In community gatherings, the men occupy center-stage and often partake of the best rice wine, while the women are left on the sidelines to gossip among themselves and the children are ignored altogether until lunchtime (often very late in the afternoon due to the long litany of the mumbakis who are already drunk halfway into the baki).

At home, the women are relegated to the kitchen and are often treated as second-class occupants of the house; they are often treated as nothing more than sexual objects whose saving grace is that they are capable of bearing sons to till the ricefields and go to war!

Please forgive me if I have painted a different picture of the Ifugao family, as opposed to what was ingrained in our consciousness of a happy and ideal family. I am simply voicing out my own personal growing up experience. Being the eldest in a brood of six—and being male—I enjoy a special place of honor in the family and in the clan. I have a natural right to inherit the bulk of the family’s landholdings (unfortunately, we don’t have any).

And there are perks that come with this rank—I get to enjoy the best wine and the best part of the meat in family occasions; my opinion is sought and considered in important family affairs that need collective decision-making, and all the perks that goes with being a panguluan (eldest). But—all these attention came about only when I was of age; I did not enjoy them as a child. In the real world, Ifugao children are nothing but children until they are old enough to till the fields, or to die in battle (or to vote, if I may add).

As a child, you always defer to the old folks or even to your elder siblings. Your opinion is not sought—in fact, you are not even heard at all. The oldies do not even ask you what you want, what you feel or what you think. You are just that—a child, only a notch above the rank of the carabao that your father talks to in the ricefields. (to be continued next week) – ebalitang@yahoo.com.ph

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All in the name

THOUGHTS UNLIMITED
Eugene Balitang

The gods had condemned Sisyphus to ceaselessly roll a rock to the top of the mountain, whence the rock would fall back of its own weight. They had thought with some reason that there is no more dreadful punishment than futile and hopeless labor.–The Myth of Sisyphus

LAGAWE, Ifugao -- A mediocre lawyer in a law office that carries a big name. That’s me. Or rather, that’s what I have become. Ok, let’s talk about the law offices in an attempt to market it to the hordes of would-be clientele, or as a logical first topic. After all, we got to start somewhere before we move on to unlimited fields. And we shall begin by weaving a portrait of the stable from where this self-declared poet who has undertaken this endeavor towards literary fame is nestled. Here goes…

In the City of Baguio , practicing under a law office that carries a name of character and integrity has its ups and downs, the delineations are very much apparent like our double-edged hinalong. For one, you would be accorded the respect deserving of the office name by your brethren in the Bar and, to a certain extent, in the Bench. And that, the performance expected of you will be in direct proportion to the esteem and prestige accorded to the name of your office. Conversely, you will bear the wrath of vengeance of those who have bled blood for the glory of the name you now carry.

The friends in the profession that the Boss has made and kept during his 21-year law practice became quite naturally our friends also. Personally, I was given some leeway in my bungling performance by these friendly judges and opposing counsels. Some even go out of their way to lend a hand in shaping me up in my chosen profession.

But the downside is, the legal gladiators who have bled blood from the sword of the Boss in many legal combats have eaten us alive in and out of the courtroom arena. It is on these occasions where I have felt my mediocrity. At least, the Boss did not forget to forewarn us. Roll with the punches, he always advised. Roll with the punches and get in the ring again. Fall if we must, but rise we must, too. Die another day.

The clients are a different story. Their expectations are sometimes way beyond our utmost capacities. Many a time have I told clients how much I am sorry for not being half the legal eagle the Boss is no matter how hard I try. In fact, some clients have withdrawn their cases from the office after the Boss took his oath as solon for the lone district of Ifugao. Some withdrew afterwards when they realized that we are not at par with the man whose name our office carries. Others wanted the quality and speed of service expected of the Boss that we, most often, cannot match – these clients would later claim that we are not minding their cases (and report it to the Boss).

But you could say I am lucky. I joined the office at a time when the Boss was still around to teach the basic rudiments of the profession. And for this, I am forever grateful and indebted. In the year and a month that I have trekked the narrow road under his guidance, I could honestly say I was ready to fly on my own when he took his dazzling exit from the race. But alas, when the rest of the Falcons came aboard, I knew I am a poor mentor in their solitary trek on the narrow path. Though I was an avid student of the art of courtroom drama, I cannot teach it myself.

The situation in the City of Baguio is similar here in our Province of Ifugao as far as law practice under the office is concerned-but with some very heavy additives. The expectations are very much similar-and more. Here, practice and politics are Siamese twins.

Looking back, I guess there was an unknown hand that muddled the circumstances and played with our pitiful mortal lives. Destiny? Or karma? Honestly, I had intended to carry the torch the Boss had passed on until it’s time to pass it on to somebody more worthy of the fame the name of the office carries. And this I had planned to do in the City of Baguio . But then the wind changed its course and I was blown sky high unknowingly. I became a husband and a father in the year that I am about to start carrying the flaming torch that is the office, or rather, the name of the office.

We have mentioned time and again that hunger is a constant friend in the narrow road of law practice. I have been in more hunger-ridden paths before and I wouldn’t have minded walking another road of this nature. But alas, what kind of man is he who lets his wife and son share the hunger unnecessarily, no matter how lofty the journey may be. So we came home and decided to stay – for good. At least, life in the province for a mediocre lawyer with a family is more bearable than in the city, unless you have your roots in the city in the first place.

And so here I am in the province plying my trade and earning the dough for tomorrow’s bread. Doing my mediocre best for the glory of the profession and the name of the office. Upholding the esteem with which it is held high under the surrounding circumstances. So far, it is no easy feat. But we try hard each day to move on. Die another day.

Half of the poor souls who flock the law office here in Lagawe since we started operating last June of this year are actually not after our legal services. Their concerns range from contracts, scholarships, jobs, promotions down to recommendations and things related to the Boss in his political self and not as a legal eagle. Time and again have I explained to these lost souls that there is now a Congressional District Office right at the heart of Lagawe – and more importantly, there is an official Congressional District Officer, a lawyer to boot, who is responsible for all political matters concerning the Boss here in the province. Some understand. Some stubbornly insist that I am the nearest plate to the stove, thanks to my mom who still harbors the thought that I am the right-hand man. Uh, mothers!

Alas, half of the hombres who come for our legal services are por pabor. Pro-bono. After all, isn’t it the office of the congressman? Indeed. But once in a while when I’m in the mood, I tell our clients that the law office is independent of the Boss as a politician. What he lent us was only his name and the prestige that goes with it - but we still have to pay Don Oscar whenever we get our office supplies at Lagawe Trading. We have to pay the postal corporation when we send out legal pleadings and official communications-even if the client is a charity case since he is a volunteer political leader of the Boss (complete with his appointment papers). If the mood hits me, I refer them to the best lawyer in town-the Legendary Public Attorney (after all, he claims that PAO is an extension of the CLO).

We’ve hung a billboard carrying the name of the office in kilometric dimension just the other day without bugles and drums-even our office secretary, R-33, did not notice. But what the heck! Billboard or no billboard, we are already branded like cows. The name is already attached to us-or rather, we are already attached to the name, no matter how hard we deny it. We will rise and fall with the Boss-be it in the legal arena or in the political battlefield. This is our tragedy. Our destiny. Our pitiful life. All in the name… (reprinted from Thoughts Unlimited, November 2002)

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Today’s revolution: Public service

THOUGHTS UNLIMITED
Eugene M. Balitang

(The columnist has been a practicing lawyer since 1999. He now holds office in Lagawe, Ifugao. Eugene was born in Banaue in 1972. He finished his primary education at Banaue Central School , high school at Saint Paul ’s Academy, BS Accountancy at Saint Louis University , and Law at the Baguio Colleges Foundation.He is the son of Alfredo Dagadag Balitang Sr of Hingyon and Mercy Gayaman Mariano of Kingguingan, Banaue. He is married to Deborah Balanban Buyagawon of Kiangan.The editors apologize for inadvertently misplacing Atty. Balitang’s photo in his first column.)
***
(Reprint of speech delivered during the flag-raising ceremony at Lagawe on June 6, 2005, still relevant to the times.)

Six days from today, on June 12, we will be celebrating our Independence Day, an independence that is a product of several revolutions.

Before the Spaniards accidentally landed on our shores in their search of spices and gold, the country that we know today is but a collection of 7,100 islands, each having its own government and people.

Thanks to three centuries of Spanish oppression and alleluiah-amen, that is – evangelization, our sense of patriotism has awakened and we revolted against our white colonizers – thus, we now celebrate our so-called independence day. Then came another white oppressor – the Americans whom we thought are our friends, but later on disdained and revolted against. And when the Second World War broke out, we revolted against military imperialism and checked the advance of Japan ’s Imperial Army in the pacific theater. Had we crumbled under the Japanese onslaught, Germany and Japan might be the superpowers today. We would have been sending our nurses to work for the Japanese yen instead of the US dollar.

We are now a nation, a country, a state – instead of a mere collection of 7,100 islands. There is a reason then to celebrate Independence Day six days from today. But before we embark on merrymaking and festivities, why don’t we ask ourselves whether we are indeed “independent.” Sometimes these thoughts cross my mind: that maybe we are better off as the 51st state of USA , or that, we are a province of industrial Japan.

Today, my dear fellow public servants, we are still oppressed. The irony is that, our oppressors are not white men or chinky-eyed Asians. Our oppressors are our own people, our very own selves. We have become the enemy. We are the oppressors of our own very own people.

Lately, the very foundation of our government is shaken by the jueteng issue. We are building hotels in Boracay for our soldiers’ R & R while they are shot at like sitting ducks in the battlefields of Mindanao for lack of combat armaments. We are debating charter change instead of discussing what we would use for classrooms for the hundreds of grade-schoolers that trooped to our public schools this very day. These are only a few of the many social ills that we suffer daily in the hands of our “oppressors” – our very own people. Corruption is now the name of the faceless enemy. We have lost faith in our government and in ourselves. We need again a revolution!

This time, our revolution is not waged in hills and plains with guns and bombs; it shall be waged in the silence of our hearts. And the best soldiers in this kind of revolution are no other than us – the public servants. If corruption is the name of the faceless enemy, we are the best-trained soldiers for its annihilation. And this we do by simply doing our best in rendering honest, efficient, timely and dedicated public service.

Today is manic Monday, the start of another long workweek. I believe that we all have our hang-over from the weekend revelries. But let us take this day as the first marching drill for the rendition of an honest, efficient, timely and dedicated public service. And if we would survive this manic Monday, I know we can survive the whole week, the whole month, the whole year, and all our working years until we retire, 8 to 5 until we reach 65.

Fellow public servants, let us annihilate the faceless enemy instead of joining its ranks. Let us put back our people’s faith in our government and in our bureaucracy. This we do by simply giving our best service in whatever position we are in. Let us start today’s revolution: public service!

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THOUGHTS UNLIMITED

Eugene M. Balitang
Of liars and lawyers

An epitaph on a tombstone reads: Here lies a good lawyer, And he lies still…

Lawyers are liars. Or that, liars are lawyers. The truism holds true insofar as the great unwashed believes. And following Irving Copi’s fundamentals of logic, we may arrive at these propositions – that all lawyers are liars; and all those who lie are perforce lawyers.

Allow me to introduce another facet to this matter of liars and lawyers in accordance with my own observations in my ten years and a day of mediocre law practice. Lawyers are just instruments of the liars. Lawyers are merely merchants in which the manufacturers of lies peddle their wares to the ultimate vendee – the judge.

Sounds interesting? Intriguing? Let’s take a look at what actually transpires inside nearly every law office – or wherever clients meet their lawyers. A hapless mother comes a-sobbing at your home, my son is in Tiger Hill, please help him. Since it’s Sunday, you say – please see me at the office on Monday.

Monday came and there you are with the distraught mother. She starts with a litany of praise, of how his son is this angel and that, short of canonizing him to sainthood. Then you ask why the information is for murder and the mother goes on with another litany of how his son was pushed to the wall, that he was just defending his poor self, he had no choice, blah-blah-blah.

You point out that attached to the information are affidavits of three witnesses attesting to the fact that her son stabbed the poor victim twenty times. The mother dons on her most innocent face and screams that those witnesses are liars, that they were threatened by the policemen to execute their affidavits, that they were paid by the family of the victim, blah-blah-blah.

After the verbal barrage, the mother ends up mouthing your genealogy (something you’ve heard before) and you know how she would conclude before she evens blurts it –you see we are cousins with your father and so are you with my poor darling son who is now at Tiger Hill. You’ll have a hard time believing her litanies but in the end you would vow to represent her poor darling son in his upcoming trial. They cannot pay the price you quoted for your acceptance fee but what the heck—you’re lawyer’s oath enjoins you to uphold your profession and take up your client’s case sans money or malice. And that – you are cousins, as the mother claims.

And so you go to court with all the braggadocio and bravura that is expected of a lawyer – a Hingyon lawyer at that. And with you is the litany of lies that a sobbing mother had poured. You do your best in tearing apart the prosecution witnesses with the tenacity of a pit bull. And as the trial progresses, the people at the other side of the table will be calling you names – criminal coddler, a drug lord (if you represent ‘green-gold’ merchants from Tinoc), a sadist (if your client is a rapist)—and of course, a goddamn liar.

Ah, you may think that’s true only on the side of the Defense. But the same holds true even when you are on the side of the angels—the Prosecution. This time, the mother comes a-wailing that his good darling son was stabbed twenty times by some sonofabitch and she begs of you to send this sonofabitch to the lethal injection table. Again, you listen to the litany of how his good darling son is this angel and that. Then you ask what her good darling son is doing at Hardknoxx Café at 2:00 dawn and the mother will of course claim that he just dropped by for a bottle or two to unwind after a hard day’s job. You ask what his job was and she says—part-time this, part-time that.

Well, sounds fiction? You might say that the scenario applies only to criminal cases. Mind you, it’s the same with civil cases. This old man comes crying foul—claiming his land that he had been tilling since time immemorial was unlawfully transferred and sold by his neighbor. You have that naïve belief in humanity—that a 60-year old man will not lie—so you institute a case for recovery of possession and ownership (with damages since you are a Hingyon lawyer). Alas, when you received the answer of the defendant, you found out, much to your humiliation, that the defendant has a title over the subject land and that he merely tolerated the old man who tilled the land out of pity and compassion.

The reverse scenario will be that—this time the old man comes crying and claiming that a prominent persona in the locality filed a case against him for the recovery of a land that he (this old man) had been tilling since time immemorial. After listening to his woeful tale, you are convinced that it is a case of ‘judicial landgrabbing’ and so you represent him with such ferocity. Only to find out as the trial progresses that this old man is a veteran squatter who waded thru life occupying lands of other people and selling it to others.

The point here, dear folks, is that whatever lies we poor lawyers peddle were first bought by us from you, our dear clients. We simply rehashed or embellished your lies and shove it down the judge’s psyche, hoping that he will absorb it as gospel truth and decide the case in your favor. And you brand us liars! Oh, the temerity.

Another facet of the matter is the inherent nature of truth—does it have an exact definition? I say that it does not have. Truth is dependent on the tragedies of our times, our culture, and of public perception. They say that a lie repeated ten times is the truth. And that, what may be true today may be a fallacy tomorrow, or vice versa. For example, bigamy is a crime in the Philippines —if you are a Christian, not if you are a Muslim (our Muslim brothers have their own Sha’ria courts and their own family code).

If you shoot your neighbor for the fun of it, it is murder. If you shoot a president to install a government, that is rebellion. If the government you installed takes over, you are a hero. Two men argued over who will win in a basketball match. They stood, one grabbed his balisong, the other grabbed his chainsaw, the balisong found its mark and the other man died. Homicide. The family of the victim will damn the accused to high heavens. The family of the accused will damn the victim and his family for provoking their old man and sole breadwinner who is now en route to Bilibid. And in between the long trial, either party will hate the lawyer at the other end, liars all.

Truth is very subjective. It would depend on how we see things. Three witnesses will attest that balisong-man simply defended himself from the attacks of chainsaw-man. Another set of witnesses will attest to the fact that chainsaw-man was stabbed helplessly. Each witness will affirm his own perception of what the truth is in accordance with how he saw things—not actually how things happened. Thankfully, you have us lawyers who will wade thru these lies and study them scintilla by scintilla so that in the end, the truth (or the best lie) will be uncovered.

Of course, the story is different if there are actually no witnesses to an incident and the lawyer will ask you to go and find (and pay) some hombres to testify in court; or that, the lawyer will manufacture a document attesting to a fact that did not exist in the first place. In this instance, indeed the lawyer is a liar—or a magician (if you ask him).

Before I end, do you still insist that we lawyers are liars? Not that it makes a difference, but I hope that I have swayed your perception a little bit in our favor.

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