Coming to Terms with Liberalism, Warts and All (Part II)

 As this is the SECOND in the series, if you haven't read the first you may read it here

Cracks in My Liberal Certainties

Rommel A. Curaming

In 2000, out of curiosity about life beyond the usual, I applied for and had the fortune of clinching the ASEAN Graduate Scholarship at the National University of Singapore (NUS) to pursue another Master’s degree, this time in Southeast Asian Studies. It was a spur of the moment decision upon seeing a newspaper advertisement one lazy Sunday afternoon. NUS then held a stature far from what it holds today. It was almost unheard of within Philippine academic community. It did not matter to me as I just felt I needed a new experience to reenergize myself. It turned out to be a major turning point not just for my intellectual pursuit but also for the life of my young family. It ushered us into two decades of itinerant life in the ‘diaspora’. I had no plan to stay long overseas, but one opportunity came after another and I just grabbed them as they came. I brought my young family wherever I went, so long as finances allowed it—Yogyakarta, Canberra, Manila, Melbourne, Singapore, Brunei. 

Studying overseas for the first time opened up possibilities that were hitherto unthinkable for me. My early exposure to Southeast Asian history at UP did not spark my interest, perhaps largely due to the dispiriting attitude of the professor who taught the subject. The history of Islam and the Middle East, as well as of East Asia fascinated me. When I decided to pursue graduate studies in Asian Studies, I opted to major in East Asia, specifically Japan. In hindsight, my interest in Europe, Middle East and East Asia—anything but the Philippines—reflected my attempts to escape from what seemed to me a depressing trajectory of Philippine history. That of Japan and the rising tiger economies of China, Korea, Taiwan, Singapore appeared in stark contrast: they offered narratives of triumph, overcoming the odds and attained stunning successes. Seeing for the first time how far the quality of life of ordinary Singaporeans and Malaysians compared to Filipinos, I was seduced to rethink the supposed inherent evils of authoritarianism that I came to learn as a UP student in the post-EDSA years. I particularly remember the first time I went to Malaysia, taking a bus from Singapore. Upon seeing the remarkable infrastructures, robust economy, clean, safe and well-appointed towns and cities, I felt deeply sad. I was struck by the thought that the Philippines could have been the same, if not ahead in comparison. I was long prepared for how impressive Singapore was, but I was jolted to my senses upon seeing how far Malaysia had gone. What went wrong in the Philippines, I wondered. I was deeply disturbed. As authoritarianism worked in Singapore and Malaysia, able to provide a better life for most of their citizens under Lee Kuan Yew and Mahathir, why it did not in the Philippines during the Marcos years? If indeed democracy was better, how come the post-Marcos years proved disappointing as well? Observing big but poor democracies such as India and Indonesia, I began to wonder if poverty and instability were a necessary price to pay for democracy.

 It was in NUS where my interest in Southeast Asia was nurtured. It was also there where I underwent a political re-awakening after being exposed to ideas that re-set the trajectory of my intellectual development. The module I took on Postcolonial Perspectives on Southeast Asia was an eye-opening experience. The ideas of Foucault, Said, Spivak, Chakrabarty, Bhabha, among others, that were critical of the Enlightenment Project and the European rationality that underpinned it affirmed, so it seemed to me, the validity of the alternative rationalities espoused by Asian philosophies like Taoism and Buddhism. These are philosophies which I had long been fascinated with, as enthusiast and a teacher of the history of Asian civilizations. I had begun to realize that they were not truly anti-rational or irrational, but they offered a different basis for rationality. Looking back, it was a major crack in my hitherto monolithic and monochromatic conception of humanity based on liberal tradition. I’ll come back to this point later, but for anyone interested in juicier details, I refer you to a reflective paper, "At Home in the World: Reflections on Home Scholarship, Theory and Area Studies",  which I wrote and published last year (downloadable here)

It was also in Singapore where I re-discovered that Philippine history and politics could be immensely exciting once viewed from the comparative standpoint of neighboring countries like Indonesia and Malaysia. Taking a country studies module on Indonesia, I saw striking parallels and contrast between its experience and those of the Philippines (more details on this are found in the piece I referred to earlier). My interest in Indonesia was boosted by the fellowship grant I received from the Ford Foundation to further learn Bahasa Indonesia while undertaking a research on Indonesian historiography soon after my stint at NUS.

Living in Indonesia for almost a year afforded me a chance to immerse in its culture and daily life. I was struck by how similar in many fundamental ways Filipinos and Indonesians were. The differences were also aplenty, but they clustered mainly around religious and nationalist orientations, as well as the deeply traumatic impact of the 1965-66 killings which had no parallel in the Philippines. Remove religion, nationalism and hysterical anti-communism out of the equation and one can see more clearly the basic and enduring similarities. The idea that foreign influences in the region were no more than a “thin glaze” at the surface, an idea that I had learned from Zeus Salazar and J.C. van Leur, among others, began to make sense to me.

Staying in Indonesia three or four years after the demise of the Suharto regime, I heard frequently to my great surprise ordinary Indonesians complaining how unsettled and tougher life had become. They longed for stability, cheaper goods, and security, the ‘good old days,’ of Suharto’s New Order. As an outsider fed mostly by the mainstream, liberal Western and Indonesian media with anti-authoritarian triumphalist narratives of democracy and Reformasi and which were suffused with a fierce anti-Suharto rhetoric, it made me wonder how things could be starkly different on the ground. I was hit by the realization that perhaps what was happening in Indonesia then had a parallel in the Philippines: sizable groups of Filipinos who persistently voted for the Marcoses and they regarded the Marcos years with what seemed to me as perverse nostalgia. How could they have thought of Martial Law years with longing, was beyond me! Since the late 1980s during my UP days, I was among those who quickly dismissed those groups as “Marcos loyalists”or “tuta ni Macoy.” These were labels that, in hindsight,  imputed questionable moral or intellectual attributes upon them—blindly loyal, manipulated, ignorant, uncritical, irrational. How stupid that they allowed themselves to be misled by Marcos propaganda, so I had thought. Looking back, what I observed in Indonesia made me think if there were material basis for the nostalgia of the Marcos era among Marcos supporters. It also reinforced my earlier questioning about liberal democracy wrought by my prior exposure to Singapore and Malaysia. 

In learning about Indonesia, I had found a psychological refuge, one that I could not in knowing more about Singapore and Malaysia. If Singapore’s and Malaysia’s impressive progress made me feel sorry and angry for the plight of Filipinos who, I had soon realized, were derided and bullied overseas, Indonesia’s miserable state in the early post-Suharto years provided a wicked but comforting assurance that Philippines was not alone. Misery loves company, as cliché goes. This feeling would not last very long, however, as by mid-late 2000s I had noticed that post-Suharto Indonesia’s political system seemed more capable of reforming itself than the post-Marcos Philippines. The gains of the Reformasi indeed fell short of the expectations, but they seemed more impactful and lasting than the post-EDSA reforms. The constitutional amendments that curtailed the power of the military, altered the electoral politics, strengthened anti-corruption body had far-reaching impact that Filipinos could only hope for in their country. The regimes of SBY and Jokowi succeeded to a significant extent in economic recovery and restored the sense of national pride in a period much shorter than it was the case for the Philippines. My familiarity with the challenges of democratic transition and consolidation in the Philippines served as a template for pondering the trajectory of Indonesia’s political and economic development in the past two decades. While foreign scholars of Indonesia and Indonesian scholars themselves habitually harped on the "failures" of the Habibie, Gus Dur, Megawati and SBY administrations, it seemed to me that the shortcomings of the post-Marcos regimes to provide a better life for Filipinos made those failures looked pale in comparison. 

-To be continued-

You may proceed to Part III  here

Coming to Terms with Liberalism, Warts and All (Part 1)

This is FIRST in a series of stories that trace the trajectory of my encounter, fascination, doubts, frustration with, and renewed faith in liberalism-progressivism. This installment narrates how the liberal me was born out of my experience at UP Diliman.

                     The Making of a Liberal 

                             by Rommel A. Curaming

‘Martial law baby.’ That was what I was called long before I knew I was. I didn’t know what that meant until one day I heard a student leader at the University of the Philippines in Diliman (UP-Diliman) complaining about how apathetic UP students had become. That was sometime in 1987. In a tone I would understand only much later as sarcastic, he said the lack of parking lot had become UP’s major problem and that the current generations of UP students being “martial law babies” were blissfully oblivious to the many problems that beset the country. 

I remember a heavy air hanged over the campus. Students were being mobilized to protest the killing of someone called Lean Alejandro. The student leader seemed flustered by the disinterest among students, including me. A promdi who just entered UP, I had no idea who Lean Alejandro was, and why he seemed important. It intrigued why his death was deeply angered and mourned by groups of students while ignored by many others. I also wondered why the student leader said UP students were apathetic while most fellow students I encountered seemed brimming with life, passionate about something. Why parking was a problem also made me ponder “how come?” From hindsight, I was too naïve and consumed by efforts to make sense of my new life in a new environment to care about what was going on in Diliman.

In this post, I wish to look back and trace the trajectory of my encounter and engagement with liberalism. I wish to make it clear to me, and to others who may be interested, how I ended being an ardent liberal, then evolved into a questioning one, and how I emerged from the experience with a renewed faith in liberalism, provided it is reformed. I have started writing this since last year as a chapter in an anthology on the Marcos era, but I've realized in due course that the shape it was taking might not fit within the overall theme of that book. Writing dragged on as I find it challenging to articulate my own thoughts and feelings with the complex facets of liberalism. 

-o0o-

I was born in 1970 in a remote seaside town of Catanauan, in the district called Bondoc Peninsula in southern Quezon. The whole area of 13 towns was impoverished, with national roads began to be paved only when I already had my own kids. Simple life in this isolated community was disturbed only occasionally, such as when gossips of possible NPA attacks spread, which did not actually happen in our town, but it did in others. The chilling presence of the New People’s Army (NPA), their intermittent encounters with the government troops, the kangaroo and their revolutionary taxes figured prominently in my memories of those years. Another was the assassination of Ninoy Aquino in 1983 and the news of frequent anti-Marcos rallies in Manila since then. Private conversations were infused with the movie-like dramas, intrigues, and gossips about the Marcoses, Aquinos, Laurels and others. I have recollections of the snap elections in 1986 and the subsequent EDSA uprising. Our town had a long tradition of anti-Marcos voting behavior. He never won there in the 1960s up to 1986, and BBM also lost there recently. I was among those excited and hopeful to see what was to happen after EDSA. But all these were fleeting; they quickly receded as a distant backdrop to my struggles as a high school and later college student, besides the challenges that beset our family.

The memories of my primary school years in the late 1970s and early 1980s were laced with fondness for nutribun, bulgur, powdered milk, and corn flour that from time to time we pupils received in public schools. Routines included occasional field demonstrations of folk or modern dances, daily flag-raising ceremonies and calisthenics, singing national anthem and other songs, and reciting slogans that later I was told were propaganda by the Marcos regime. I recall in particular the song with these lines “May bagong silang, May bagong buhay…”. Its distinctive marching rhythm stuck in me. When I heard it again months ago as briefly captured in the news of BBM’s motorcades, I was jolted by floods of warm memories of my primary school years. Yes, my memories of those years were warm and comforting overall. 

My father worked as a municipal agriculturist. I remember him busy visiting barrios, talking to farmers, giving seminars about new programs and techniques in farming and aqua-culture. Faint memories about Masagana 99, irrigations, land reform, the different varieties of 'miracle rice',  parades and agricultural fairs I still carry to this day. Clearer are my memories of rural banks and cooperatives of various types, as my parents and us kids took part as borrowers and depositors. I particularly had fond memories of buying cheaper goods and accumulating rebates from cooperative stores, particularly the credit cooperative and Kadiwa Center in our hometown. Up to now, I still remember how deeply sad I felt seeing their shelves increasingly un-replenished, until they closed altogether, never to be revived, as the post-Marcos era wore on.  

In 1987, I was surprised and overjoyed to have passed the UPCAT,  UP's entrance examination. Hearing the news, our parish priest warned my mother against studying at UP. I served as a sacristan, an altar boy, for ten years, growing up at the center of our town’s Catholic world. Our parish priest might have feared what seemed to be a hard-core Catholic like me would go wayward and become a communist or an aktibista. With all derogatory and scary connotations they carry among town folks, a mere mention of those words brought chills to the spine. It was a typical small-town mindset, which I understood well. But I was too excited by the thought of studying at UP-Diliman to be bothered by our priest's concerns. That said, I entered UP rather wary about the leftist ideologies whose negative impressions I carried over from my conservative, provincial background. I grew up, for instance, reading what turned out to be Cold War propaganda-laden books, newspapers and magazines like Reader’s Digests and the Asiaweek. I’ve realized the subtle but deeply propagandistic nature of these and other media only much later, sometime in 2000s, when I wrote a paper on the rhetoric of Ramon Magsaysay Awards as part of the repertoire of the Cold War propaganda (downloadable here). 

The four years I spent as an Education student at UP majoring in Social Studies proved exhilarating. It was there where my liberal self was born. The very interdisciplinary nature of this major allowed me to bask in the freedom to think freely, take the courses I truly liked across the vast social sciences and humanities, and read whatever I fancied. It was a veritable liberal education, transformative in process and empowering in aspiration. For a while I was a trainee at the culture section of the Philippine Collegian, UP’s official student organ and the mouthpiece of the radical-leftist ideologues at UP. In high school, I dreamed of becoming a journalist so when I was filling in the UPCAT form, I looked for the code for Journalism. Rather strangely the form that reached my school did not include Journalism on the list! So I put the code for Secondary Education as my first choice thinking that UP did not offer a major in Journalism. It hardly bothered me then, thinking that passing the UPCAT was like a punch on the moon for me anyway. But I did pass the UPCAT and when I went to UP for the first time, I was startled while riding Ikot jeep seeing Plaridel Building, the Institute for Mass Communication, where Journalism was one of the majors. The Catholic in me took it as a providential intervention, steering me to one direction rather than another. But anyway, awe-struck as I was by the Philippine Collegian and thinking I could still take a shot at my dream of being a journalist, I decided to heed one of their recruitment calls. I took the test and I was notified to my delight that I passed for a provisional training.

In due time, I realized how much time press work required, entailing not just extended night-time work but also skipping classes. I opted out when academic pressures forced me to choose which to prioritize. In hindsight, that moment was an ideological crossroads for me. Had I stayed and become a full-fledged staff of the Collegian, I would have been at the center of radical politics not just in UP but in the country. I would have been clearly aktibista in action, not just in thoughts. My departure from Collegian allowed me a more free-flowing political education, at my own pace and ways. I was thrilled by the shedding of my conservative outlook, imbibing the anti-colonial nationalist and radical standpoint that UP liberal and Marxist activists have propounded. Before I knew it, I became a self-appointed critic of colonial education and colonial historiography, as well as of the roles of the World Bank, IMF, and US imperialism in forcing third world countries to do “structural adjustment” and to “mortgage their future”. I remember being inspired by the works of Alejandro Licauco (Nationalist Economics) Paulo Freire (Pedagogy of the Oppressed), Michael Apple, Henry Giroux,  Teodoro Agoncillo, Renato and Leticia Constatino (“Miseducation of the Filipinos,” “World Bank Textbooks”, Past Revisited and Continuing Past), and Luisa Doronilla among many others. I did not become a communist, as our parish priest feared, but I was deeply fascinated by their beliefs; I admired their conviction and courage and I understood why they pushed for a revolutionary transformation. Participating only twice or thrice in campus mobilizations (against the US bases and for socialized tuition at UP), I was among those otherized pejoratively as armchair activist by the hegemonic, Diliman-centric culture of activism in the country.

The years I was at UP coincided with the post-EDSA years of turmoil and the unrelenting tirade against the previous regime and the US. The “Never Again!” and anti-US narratives were pervasive, and I absorbed them as every budding Filipino intellectual was expected. Being critical entailed being anti-US, anti-colonial, anti-Marcos and pro-Cory, among other things.  

Graduating from UP in 1991, I started teaching Asian History in high school in an elite Catholic high school in the posh Dasmarinas village in Makati. Not long after, I returned to UP to pursue a graduate degree in Asian Studies. The deepening of my interest in Asian philosophies, history and culture proved to be a turning point in my intellectual development, and my understanding of the political, and life in general. My intellectual pursuit, however, had to take a backseat to the harsh realities of daily life. For the remainder of the 1990s, I was consumed by the need to survive, establish a career, keep a gainful employment in Manila, and prepare for marriage and raise own family. It was frenetic. Looking back, I wonder how I managed to endure those years. I woke up early and came home late, braved traffic jams and pollution every day, not to mention floods during rainy season, shuttling between two teaching jobs in distant parts of Metro Manila. Simultaneously, I pursued graduate studies and did odd jobs in textbook writing and conference organizing. Political and economic developments like expulsion of the US bases, the disintegration of the left in the Philippines, the end of the Cold War and the collapse of the Soviet Union, the rise of Asian economic dragons and the Asian financial crisis were momentous, but they we mere transitory backdrop to my toils as one among millions of struggling ordinary Filipinos.

It was inside the classrooms that my liberal-radical intellectual stances flourished during this time. I taught part-time courses on Philippine History and Rizal in an elite Catholic university, in addition to Asian History in a privileged Catholic school and a highly selective, public science high school. My teaching style was imbued with the spirit of critical pedagogy expounded by the likes of Paulo Freire and Michael Apple, as interpreted and modelled by Maria Luisa Doronila. Despite teaching only 1-unit Education course (courses in UP normally carry 3 credit units) called Senior Seminar,  she managed to provide what to me, looking back, was a brilliant synthesis of educational processes and why critical approach to education must be employed. I consider her one of the most competent and admirable teachers I ever had, not just in UP Diliman, but in my entire life. Through their ideas and illustrative examples, I came to realize for the first time the truly radical potentials and transformative power of teaching. The world out there, its past and present, is not simply to be understood, but more importantly to change for the betterment of humanity, the marginalized groups in particular. Both incremental and fundamental changes were (still are) needed because the status quo was configured in favor of numerically small but powerful political, cultural and economic elites. True to the liberal aspirations to locate humans at the center of the schemes of things and to empower them to serve as engine of historical transformation, I took teaching as a foundational training for thinking right, enabling students to be the agent of change the liberal tradition envisioned them to be. Rational thinking, in short, is at the forefront as well as baseline of efforts to address practically every problem. Looking back this was among the earliest liberal fantasies that I imbibed. Why I now call it a “liberal fantasy” while before I took it as a calling or a mission, will become clear as my story further unfolds.

-To be continued-

Part II is here

A tale of two historical revisionisms: Why is a nuanced history of the Marcos years necessary?

 

by Rommel A. Curaming

Many people think we know what happened exactly during the Marcos years from 1966 to 1986. The long-dominant narrative tells us it was not just a dark age, but the darkest one in Philippine history. This narrative took shape under the euphoria of the 1986 EDSA ‘revolution’. It was propagated by various anti-Marcos and progressive groups. These groups suffered under the regime and many of them were well-placed in the media, academia, NGOs, religious communities and basic education. Through the years, it has become the standard and hegemonic account of the period. It became a doxa, treated as a self-evident truth. One can question it only at risk of being severely castigated.

The other, increasingly assertive and bourgeoning lately, is the narrative that paints Marcos years as a/the 'golden age'. Upheld initially by hard core Marcos loyalists, this version long existed, confined at the margins in the post-EDSA era. In recent years, it gained traction beyond the circles of Marcos loyalists enabled by the astute use of the social and other media by the BBM camp. We may also consider the positive memories of the Marcos years among segments of the population who lived through it, passing stories on to their children and grandchildren. Circulating against the backdrop of the failure of liberals-led post-EDSA regimes to meet people’s expectations, these memories fuel nostalgia for the Marcos era. As a counter-narrative to the long-established view, it is often branded as fake news or historical revisionism.

The transcendental truth contains a mix of these polar claims. Each of them has grains of truth, to what extent only God knows, but they overemphasized certain aspects and ignored others. The ‘dark age’ version projects onto the national screen the viewpoint mainly of victims of the Marcos regime. Borrowing the idea from Talitha Espiritu (2017), they allegorize what happened to them as a national tragedy, excluding the contrasting experience and views of people who appreciated what the Marcos regime did and what he stood for. That almost half of the voters voted for Marcos in 1986 snap elections suggests this segment is sizeable. This point is important to help us understand why a Marcos kept on being voted to office not just in Ilocos but nationally as well despite their family being unceremoniously removed from power in 1986. The ‘golden age’ view, on the other hand, overstates the achievements of the Marcos government while ignoring or downplaying the human rights violation, economic crisis, extravagance, corruption, cronyism and violence it committed. Both views are selective and they lack nuances expected of a good history.

Plenty of books were written about the period, but a balanced and comprehensive historical accounts have yet to be written. The rabid and tenacious anti-Marcos sentiment in the post-1986 years prevented this possibility. Impartiality could be costly for any scholar who dare to do it. Talitha Espiritu’s book Passionate Revolution, which I reviewed here, is a rare gem. It exemplifies the nuanced approach that we badly need. For some years, I have encouraged young Filipino historians to do oral history projects to examine what ordinary people in various places in the country actually remember about the Marcos years, and why. These generations are dying out and it is good to record their memories of the time. But no takers. Some said it is already obvious, so what is the point? Others think there are other more interesting and important topics to pursue. My hunch is that if well-designed oral history projects are done in various places, we shall see a more complex and nuanced picture of the era. Testimonies of activists, left-leaning leaders and other victims of the Marcos regime dominate accounts of the period. There are also memoirs and other accounts by pro-Marcos supporters. Both are no doubt valuable as records, but taken together, they offer partial accounts of the period, either skewed to one side or another. They are also viewed from the elite perspectives of the two camps. What must be included are accounts of daily life among ordinary people in different parts of the country. Ideally, such oral history projects should have been conducted years or decades earlier. In the wake of the stunning victory of BBM, the prevailing sentiment is likely to influence respondents’ memories of the Marcos years. Nevertheless, it still needs to be done and impartial professional historians must do it to ensure methodological rigor. They also have to do it soon before the surge of blatantly pro-Marcos efforts engulf the whole historical landscape.

Kakampinks and the mainstream media, both domestic and international, appear so sure about the sin of historical revisionism that the BBM camp is guilty of. Strictly speaking, revising history is an inherent part of writing history. We write history on the basis of available evidences. Once we find additional evidences or create a new interpretation of existing ones, it is natural to revise history. The so-called sin of historical revisionism ensues when a new version or interpretation goes against, even totally revises, the hegemonic understanding of history, such as when questions were raised about the Holocaust. Some of those who did it ended up being called historical revisionists or 'Holocaust deniers'  and got jailed or fined.  When the widely and long-entrenched 'dark age' interpretation of Marcos years began to be challenged by the emergent 'golden era' narrative, the proponents and supporters of the 'dark age' view were indignant, charging them of revising the past. This allegation is based on the assumption that an authoritative or truthful history has already been written and no one may challenge or change it. This illiberal assumption is untenable, as a nuanced and balanced history of the period has arguably yet to be written. And even if we grant it has already been written, it is still subject to possible revisions. Nothing is cast in stone in history writing, provided there are new evidence or valid reasons for new interpretation.

More interestingly, they also missed that their camp was (and still is) guilty of historical revisionism themselves, and they were and remain oblivious of it. They did it earlier, since 1986 when they promoted the Never Again and EDSA narratives[1]. This was a revisionist history, erasing the dynamics and complexity of the period by reducing it into several purely negative characteristics. Specifically, from the standpoint of almost 50% who voted for Marcos in 1986 snap election, the Never Again narrative revised their favorable memories and assessment of what happened then. That hardly anyone recognizes it as historical revisionism is a testament to the power of the victors not just to write history but to erase this power in the equation, making it seem that history is objective, that it spontaneously writes itself. Howls of protest may be raised about tons of evidence that attest to the cruelty of the Marcos regime, but evidence also exist to support the more favorable views. The point is, these opposing pieces of evidence need not cancel each other to determine "the truth" about the period. The contrasting pictures they offered form parts of a comprehensive, textured, and more realistic representation of the past. 

Imputing moral equivalence is not the purpose of drawing parallelism between the two revisionisms. I leave judgement to the readers. My purpose is analytic parity and to find viable ways how to move forward. It is necessary for us to understand the unrecognized political nature of ANY historical claims, regardless of accuracy or lack thereof. Both liberals and conservatives tend to deny the political underpinning of their preferred history. For them it is an objective history. The political character of history can only be concealed and denied, but it cannot be expunged. It is inherent in historical knowledge, among other branches of knowledge. The liberal view of the supposedly oppositional relationship between good scholarship and politics is a myth; it fantasizes the good or accurate scholarship neutralizing the political. It is a fantasy  because regardless of quality, a scholarship can be, and has actually been, used to serve any compatible political interests, good or bad, right or left or center. Knowledge assumes a life of its own as it circulates in social spaces. Hitler and the Nazi, for example, used the most advanced science and scholarship of the time to serve his interests, even if the scholars did not envision their work for such purposes. US, Chinese and Russian governments also do that.  The liberal view easily forgets that given the inevitable social context of knowledge production and consumption, whatever conclusion reached, accurate or not, will always favor one side or another. It cannot be neutral. More fundamentally, the very act of writing history—using historical methodology—is enabled by the collective power of the community of scholars. Impartial scholarship is the well-spring of power of scholars. It is their politics, to put it candidly. It is a kind of power whose potency and legitimacy rests on not being recognized as such. For anyone curious to know more about this line of analysis, you can read my book Power and Knowedge in Southeast Asia: Scholars and State in Indonesia and the Philippines where I analyse comparatively Marcos’s Tadhana project with Suharto’s similar project.

On part of the public, they also cannot consume history outside of the existing power relations; historical interpretation cannot exist in a socio-political vacuum. Either one agrees with the ideological left, right, or center, or with the supposedly impartial scholars. Regardless, one favors one political stance over another. This should not put us in despair. It simply is its nature. We will be in better position to do something if we know this sooner rather than later.  

If ultimately all history, regardless of quality or accuracy, is political, what is the point of aspiring for a multi-faceted and nuanced history of the Marcos period? This kind of history will allow ample space for the competing narratives. Rather than bickering endlessly on which version is 'the truth' and which one is 'fake,' we can profit more by decoding the political interests and human needs that drive competing historical claims. With multiplicity as our starting point, there is a greater chance we learn to tolerate our political and other differences and we can move forward with less historical baggage. With the sharp polarization ensuing from the 2022 elections, it is imperative various sides have to learn to co-exist civilly, if not truly peacefully.

References Cited:

Curaming, Rommel. Power and Knowledge in Southeast Asia: Scholars and State in Indonesia and the Philippines. London and New York: Routledge, 2020.

Curaming, Rommel and  Lisandro Claudio. “(Re)Assessing EDSA ‘People Power’ as a Critical Conjuncture.” In Conjunctures and Continuities in Southeast Asia, edited by Narayanan Ganesan, Singapore: ISEAS, pp. 25-52.            

Espiritu, Talitha. Passionate Revolutions : The Media and the Rise and Fall of the Marcos Regime. Athens: Ohio University Press, 2017.

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[1] Leloy Claudio and I wrote an article that re-assesses the 1986 EDSA People Power, https://www.academia.edu/2147171/_Re_Assessing_EDSA_People_Power_as_a_Critical_Conjuncture

Election results: A wake up call to reinvent liberal-progressive politics in the Philippines

 by Rommel A. Curaming

I imagine talking to fellow well-meaning progressive-liberal friends, families and colleagues about the outcome of the recent elections. I’d tell them that I hope this decisive election results would be used as an opportunity to re-set our mindset and rethink key assumptions to reinvent what liberal politics entails in the Philippines. Liberalism-progressivism is in crisis in various parts of the world, and it is up to us liberals to renew it to save it from irrelevance.  

First, it is about time we get off our moral and intellectual high horses that prevent us from realizing our blinders, licensing us to be self-righteous and disrespectful of other people’s choices. It is ironic that as liberal-progressives we’re freedom- and equality-loving people and yet we do not treat others who think differently as our equal and cannot allow them freedom of choice.

Second, let us be courageous enough to take a close and honest look at what really happened, good and bad, since Marcos took power in 1966 and be open to a multi-faceted, more textured or nuanced history of the period. It is a kind of history that was flattened, erased or suppressed by the hegemony of fellow liberal-progressive interlocutors who reigned over public discourses since 1986, but they forced their way into the social and other media in the past decades. Historical fairness dictates that the ups and down in Marcos’s 20 years at the helm cannot be reduced to soundbites or memes of pure dark age of violence, human rights violations, economic crisis and corruption that the post-1986 hegemonic narrative would like us to believe. Fifty million Filipinos spread out in thousands of islands had varied and shifting experience within those two decades. Many suffered to a varying extent but there were many others as well who enjoyed and appreciated, even long for, those years even up to now. People have the right to remember whatever they remember about the Marcos years. To each his/her own.

Third, let us be aware of the intellectualist biases that hamper our effort to reach out to common people. Just as fact checking proved inadequate to turn the tide of support for Trump in the US, it cannot also do the trick in the Philippines. The presumption that people’s support for BBM rests mainly on the success of misinformation or propaganda, which drives fact-checking efforts, need to be seriously re-thought as the whole idea is condescending. It is precisely one of those that turns-off a lot of people when Kakampinks try to convince them. It is also untrue as many people who voted for BBM have their own valid reason for doing so. Denying it is yet another sign of liberal hubris that enable us to fantasize that we know more and better than people who actually live their own lives.

More importantly let us stop deluding ourselves that the Marcos camp has the monopoly of misinformation, propaganda and historical revisionism. The “Never Again!” narrative surrounding Martial Law as well as the hegemonic memories of the EDSA “Revolution”, which propped up the political interests of certain groups, are themselves propagandistic and historically revisitionist (am writing an article on this). This is particularly true if viewed from the “suppressed history” of many Filipinos who remember fondly and lived peacefully and happily during the Marcos years. The painful experience of anti-Marcos activists, rebels and other people who were victims of the Marcos regime deserve to be remembered and be given justice, and the Marcoses ought to be held accountable for all the wrongs they have committed, but it should not be privileged to solely define the long Marcos era. Doing so is partial to the standpoint of certain groups while invalidating the contrasting experience of many others. History is naturally complex and such complexity can only be erased by political interests, of which both sides are guilty of promoting. More consequentially it denies the people opportunity to learn from the ideas and initiatives Marcos made during his time, which is precisely what the post-EDSA de-Marcosification efforts did, and which many of those who voted for BBM wish to restore and pursue to their conclusion.

For decades, I was a believer. I totally believed in the accuracy of the anti-Marcos and the “Never Again” narratives. Since the mid-2000s while doing a PhD, however, I was stunned by realizations upon reading more about Ninoy and Cory Aquino and Marcos Sr. and the politics of that period. Rather than the Manichaean, good vs evil, portrayal that dominated the public discourses since the 1980s, I saw that they were of the same political molds, and the attribution of hero vs villain was imputed by the currently hegemonic side in the struggle for supremacy against the backdrop of contrasting standpoints and shifting political climate. Doing fieldwork in Indonesia in 2005, I was surprised by ordinary Indonesians’ expression of nostalgia for Suharto’s New Order era (how could they long for a dictatorship??!! I wondered). The experience made me re-think some fundamental questions about the Marcos years. These include the possibility that it may be just a matter of time before Marcos’s memories would come back in full force in the Philippines, which in fact happened. I also remember being repulsed to the core by how the illness and eventual death of Cory Aquino in 2008-2009, and the recurrent reference to yellow ribbon and Ninoy’s martyrdom, was milked dry by political groups and the media (later to be called dilawans). As things unfolded it became clear to me that it was a convenient pretext for propelling PNoy’s presidential ambition. I felt cheated and humbled. I’ve thought all along that my UP education made me intelligent enough to see through a propaganda. I wondered about the subtle and not so-subtle mind conditioning techniques that enabled otherwise self-thinking persons like me, or so I thought, to be taken for a ride. Now long aware of the modus operandi, it is easy for me to understand and respect the decision of throngs of people who voted for BBM, even if I did not vote for him. Rather than a bunch of bobotantes, I take them as ones who have their own legitimate reasons. Perhaps, they already realized that just like me they too were hoodwinked for a long time.

Fourth, it is about time we let go of our arrogance to suppose that we have the monopoly of morality, critical thinking, right discernment, capabilities and love for our country. People who voted for BBM or any other candidates also have these in equal measures. Because of our presumption of intellectual and moral superiority, we ignore or dismiss them offhand, calling them names that reflect badly on our being liberal. For all our bitter critiques of authoritarianism (e.g., Marcos and Duterte), it is ironic that we liberal-progressives have also tended to be authoritarian in pushing down the throat of others our favored liberal ideals, ideas and approaches. Let us stop acting as if we are the only rightful vanguard of the ongoing socio-political evolutionary progress. Let us refrain from assuming that we are the only ones who can truly understand the plight of the people and have the right to speak on their behalf. We, in other words, can make use of a good dose of humility, which liberalism requires but many among us liberals seem to have long forgotten.

Fifth, let us abandon the fantasy that BBM won just because of cheating, fake news, trolls and the savvy use social media, and the well-oiled machinery for vote buying. There is no denying these played a role in his campaign, but let us not insult our intelligence by ignoring the magnitude of his mandate, and by giving cozy excuses for our own shortcomings. We can definitely do better than that. Those excuses may be comforting but they divert our attention from the need to address the serious problems with Leni’s campaign, many of which were anchored on the liberal fantasies that we need to confront head on. First is Leni herself. She is not a trapo but she embodies the traditional liberal politics in the country, which has grown repulsive to a huge segment of the population, particularly since PNoy’s time. She reminds many of the media-driven myth-making that surrounded Cory Aquino in the 1980s. Despite Leni’s sincerity and clean image, she is a hard-sell to 70-80% of Filipinos who approve of, even long for,  a decisive or authoritarian leadership exemplified by Duterte. Leni’s campaign failed to organically relate to the hopes and concerns of warm, sweaty bodies on the ground.  Her strategists seem oblivious to the signs of the fast changing times. The very strong showing by BBM in the 2016 vice presidential elections should have already raised a red flag that many people no longer cared (if at all they ever did) about the sins of the Marcoses and the Never Again narrative. The early surveys favorable to BBM whose conciliatory stance and simple message of unity resonated well with many, should have signaled earlier on that people have grown tired of divisiveness and moralizing in politics; what they cared for were unity, public service, economic advancement and continuity of Duterte’s legacies. But Kakampinks precisely focus on moral crusades and the anti-Marcos issues, as if flogging a dead horse. The holding of the miting de avance in Makati, reminiscent of the anti-Marcos high-heeled, yellow protests of the 1980s, was a hallmark of this cluelessness. They are so self-assured that what they regarded as important were also what most people cared about. They constructed echo chambers that nurtured the illusion of a surging bandwagon in favor of Leni, making them complacent about the need to address the paralyzing elitism of the campaign. Casting doubts on the scientific surveys, they created a parallel universe that nourished the fantasies of impending success and unduly heightened supporters’ expectations and along with it the profound frustration after the resounding defeat. More importantly, they lost opportunities to adjust strategies early and effectively. When they adjusted using house-to-house campaign, they bask in the supposedly unprecedented and transformational character of a movement, but seem unmindful of the alienating effects of the elitist (intellectual and otherwise) presence, accents and all, of the pink-wearing campaigners. The contrived nature of the approach was hardly lost on the target voters.

Sixth, it is about time we disabuse ourselves of the illusion that our liberal stance is a moral stance, and an absolute one at that. Just like other stances, it is a power- and interest-driven political stance and any move to cloak it with moral absolutism ought to be suspect. Our tendency to moralize politics arms us with a sickening holier-than-thou attitude. It sets us to pontificate about what should politics be—clean, honest, principled-- rather than how can politics be carried out to serve the needs of the people on the ground.  That 70-80% of Filipinos approve of Duterte and for that many of us are quick to call them stupid and enabler of indecency, speaks volume to how detached we are from realities of the time. We talk a lot about hifalutin ideas of democracy, human rights, justice, morality and accountability and dismiss and demonize populism as the supposed anti-thesis of and a threat to democracy, while most people care about emotional connection, relatability, conviviality, respect and empathy—traits that are well nurtured in populist movements.

Rather than merely blaming the ‘stupidity’ of others, or the misinformation and cheating machines of the Marcos camp, let us take this opportunity to reinvent the liberal-progressive politics in the Philippines by, among other means, making it more relevant, responsive and respectful to feelings and needs of the people beyond the Kakampink crowds. That less than 27% of Filipinos voted for Leni should make us realize that hard core liberals are now a minority, so we should do something about it. Analytically, this means allowing populism to be synthesized within the fold of liberal democratic theory, rather than keeping it as liberalism’s negative Other. After all elitism alone is not inherent in liberalism; populism as well, for the liberal vision includes everyone, the people. The elitist character assumed by liberalism through the centuries owed much to the hijacking by intellectual elites. Let us use our superior education to truly understand the viewpoints, hopes and aspirations of people on the ground and make liberal democracy truly for and by the people. How exactly, I don’t know. We all have to figure things out as this is a very tough collective task, especially because it entails shedding many of our long-held habits of the heart and mind. Foremost of these habits is our self-righteousness, the sense of moral and intellectual superiority which we are often unaware of. I am convinced that despite the many problems that accompany liberal tradition since Enlightenment, the core of this project is the way to go for a better present and future. There is no doubt in my mind that it is worth pursuing and fighting for.

 

From culture to corporate culture: A misuse of knowledge? Or, a norm?

Rommel A.Curaming

I am reviewing a book entitled Social Science and Knowledge in a Globalising World, which is edited by Zawawi Ibrahim, a professor of anthropology at Univesity of Brunei Darussalam. It was co-published by Malaysian Social Science Association (MSSA or PSSM) and the Malaysia-based Strategic Information and Research Development Centre (SIRD).  This collection of essays is noteworthy for at least two reasons. First, the contributors in this volume include some of the most well-known, as well as emerging names, in Southeast Asian and cultural studies. The list includes  Benedict Anderson, Ien Ang, Anthony Reid, Chua Beng Huat, Viktor King, Hans-Dieter Evers,  Clive Kessler, Goh Beng Lan, Syed Muhd Khairudin and Maznah Mohamad, among others. Putting together contributions from such an impressive list of scholars is definitely not a small achievement. Second, the volume offers a wealth of insights on various aspects of globalization and, this is of more interest to me, the sociology, history and politics of knowledge production, consumption and distribution. In this post, I will ruminate on a few attention-grabbing issues raised in one of the articles in the volume.

I have found Clive Kessler’s perceptive chapter—“Globalisation: Familiar Issues but a New-Fangled Discourse”—refreshing and generative  of debates. By calling globalization a new-fangled discourse, Kessler hardly conceals his contempt for those who, in his view, create vociferous but almost vacuous pronouncements about the features or nature of globalization. He aligns himself with critics who believe globalization is not of recent origins and its deep historic roots need to be adequately appreciated to understand this multifaceted process. He warns that doing otherwise misleads well-meaning scholars and critics and thus miss not only its full import but, more importantly, its sinister undersides.

Kessler’s argument is more complex than what I can discuss in this space-constrained post. What I wish to reflect on is his explication of how and why Weber’s  ‘honourable’ concept of culture has been ‘debased’, ‘abused’ and ‘dumbed down,’ and morphed into corporate or organizational culture in the fields of management science or organization studies. In relation to my previous post, Kessler’s explication seems to be an excellent example of how knowledge which was conceived with good intent could be used otherwise. In his view, this represents a ‘slippage’ from the “theoretically sublime to the intellectually banal,” (p. 30) a regrettable misuse, so he claims, of one of the most vital and inspired concepts in the social sciences. He  deftly uses this case to lay the groundwork for a critique of, in his mind, the vulgarized or corporatized intellectual foundations of much of globalization discourses—a critique which, for its complexity and salience, is in itself worthy of a separate treatment.

For the purpose of exploring the knowledge/power analytics, what I’ve found striking in Kessler’s formulation is the sharp dichotomy he draws between two things. On the one hand,  he considers as “theoretically sublime” and “grandest, most capacious and expansive” the conceptualization of culture in the Weberian and other traditions in sociology and anthropology;  on the other hand, he deeply regrets the distortion or cynical appropriation in the management science or organizational studies. He bewails management scholars’ reversal of Weber’s intended severe critique of instrumental rationality (via a humanistic and historicized conception of culture) and make it serve, heaven forbid!, the bedrock of management science, where the bastardized notion of  culture (now called corporate culture) forms an essential part of the whole range of techniques of corporate control and value-modification in the service of profit and other market forces. In his mind, classical social theory conceives of culture in fairly neutral terms, as “an orientation, an ethos, a way of being human in world, that informs all (emphasis original) that we do and exerts its effects across the whole of our lives, all its domains, rather than being functionally specific and instrumentally harnessed to any single compartment…” The main source of Kessler’s misgivings appears to be the management scholars’ borrowing of the ‘sublime’ notion of culture that inadvertently edifies and dignifies corporate culture and hide or mystify its otherwise naked instrumentalist intent.

Against the backdrop of the fairly long tradition of a highly politicized conception of culture in various fields such as critical theory, sociology of knowledge, critical pedagogy, postcolonial theory and cultural studies (see for example Ien Ang’s chapter in this book), one may be easily struck by Kessler’s rather sanguine idea of what culture is. From the standpoint of these fields, culture can be anything but neutral; it cannot be plain descriptive. Examples are legion that show culture in this supposedly neutral term being used to justify gross inequality and ethnic or religious conflict or vindicate or dignify gruesome acts (e.g. widow-burning, child marriage, arranged marriage).This makes one wonder which is more menacing: the notion of corporate culture that almost everyone knows to be an agent of control, or the idea of culture that naturalizes a range of human behavior which may be considered unacceptable?  In fairness to Kessler, the conception of culture he highlighted is understandably strategic. In the context of his essay, he tries to demonstrate the vulgarization in the service of the market forces of the otherwise well-conceived and well-intent concepts in the social science as a parallel to what is happening in the discourse on globalization.

What I have found instructive in Kessler’s stance is two-fold:  first, it represents the fairly generic attitude among scholars in the more theoretically-informed disciplines. What seems to operate here is the  great theory-application divide, whereby scholars who work on the more theory-heavy stuff tend to look down on those who deal with the ‘applied’ aspects. Those in theoretical linguistics, for instance, assume intellectual high ground over those in applied linguistics; and those in the applied linguistics tend to reproduce the same hierarchical attitude towards, say, ESL teachers. Those who ‘do’  history patronize those who teach history; those in pure mathematics condescend those in applied mathematics like Statistics. The classic ‘those-who-think-over-those-who-do’ operates here, as the fate of technology and engineering (vis-à-vis basic sciences), applied anthropology, applied sociology, applied history (public history) and others indicate. I should note that there has been a long tradition of anti-intellectualism that seeks to undercut this hierarchy, and in the expanding number of quarters the order has been successfully reversed, but in society and global scale in general, this remains not the case.

Second, and this is more salient, this attitude sets scholars to easily dismiss the so-called ‘misuse’, ‘abuse,’ ‘distortion’ or ‘vulgarization’ of knowledge as aberration, which any scholar worthy of this name ought to have avoided by using the ‘right’ theory, methods, interpretation and data. What this attitude obscures or occludes is the possibility that rather than an abnormality or aberration, what management scholars have done may in the fact be the norm. That is, what they did merely make explicit what people, scholars or not, regardless of the level of intellectual attainment, subtly or unmindfully do on a daily basis: interpret or utilize knowledge based on, in final analysis, their unconscious need or use for it, if not expressly driven by self-interest or altruism. I should note that this claim does not preclude objectivity, as pursuit of objectivity, as I will try to explain in a separate post, is hardly a disinterested position in itself.

I understand why Kessler, and many others, will easily dismiss the notion, say, of corporate culture as an unfortunate misuse or vulgarization of the ‘hollowed’ concept of culture. It seems more productive, however, to pay greater attention to the analytic pathways such ‘misuse’ opens up. By taking corporate culture not as a misuse qua misuse, but as just one among other possible ways of utilizing the concept, the focus of attention shifts away from whether knowledge claim is true or false, acceptable or not. Important as they are, such questions unduly confine the otherwise more wide-ranging issues to the realm of academic technicality and conceal in the process various things, including the hidden and self-serving interests of the scholarly class. Admittedly, this is a contentious point which I will discuss more about in a future blogpost.

In my mind, the questions of how knowledge is actually used, by whom, in what context, why, and with what actual and potential effects, are of greater importance. Focusing on these questions does not mean that veracity or truth is not significant; it only means that accuracy is hardly the only or most important thing about knowledge. What this shift in focus seeks to achieve is to help common people understand the nature of competing truths that often underlie knowledge claims. By paying more attention to these questions, we foreground the inherently double-edge nature of knowledge and thus put critical scholarship in a better position to protect and promote public interests. 

'Good' Knowledge Gone Bad? The Sinister Side of Expertise

by Rommel A. Curaming

A cursory glance at key debates in different branches of the human, social and natural sciences reveals that scholars’ primary, if not the only, focus is on whether or how one gets things right theoretically, methodologically, analytically and empirically. The holy grail of this preoccupation is the notion, and, of course, the attainment of, expertise.

Expert knowledge represents the pinnacle of scholarship’s achievement. To the extent that scholarship is viewed as polar opposite of politics, expertise exemplifies in the highest order the success, or the aspiration to succeed, of the community of scholars in transcending the contaminating influences of the social environment. What is often overlooked, it should be noted, is the possibility that no matter how good scholarship is, it cannot exist in a socio-political vacuum. In many instances expertise is precisely what the powerful and the unscrupulous need and, in fact, use often to advance or justify their interests, usually at the expense of the unsuspecting public.

Any scholar who produces knowledge by undertaking research or by any other means starts with good intentions. The moment the results are published, however, knowledge assumes a life of its own; it circulates and is used in society in ways independent of the original intent. Scholars often absolve themselves of the responsibility by skirting around it, thinking in all honesty that their job ends co-terminus with the boundaries of scientific knowledge production. Easily set aside is the likelihood that exactly it is their expertise that lends knowledge a lasting credibility and power that enable both legitimate use and misuse of knowledge. It ought to be recognized, therefore, that good intentions and strict adherence to established scholarly protocols are not, or cannot be, enough. Knowledge, regardless of accuracy, is not inherently amoral or neutral; it is the fluid contexts of knowledge production, distribution, consumption and evaluation that decide.

 This situation calls for greater and concerted efforts to document, analyse and map out the range of actual and potential uses and abuses of expert knowledge in various fields of human endeavour. As the evolving national, regional and global order increasingly locates knowledge at the centre of almost everything—as exemplified, for example, by the notions of knowledge society and knowledge economy—there is a corresponding demand for a greater accountability in knowledge use. The sustainability and vitality of the public sphere that protects and promotes the welfare of common people hinge on the transparency of knowledge production, distribution and consumption.  At the end of the day, we scholars do not wish to inadvertently inflict harm in our efforts to do good.

What seems needed is to strengthen significantly the early warning mechanism within scholarship itself to help minimize, if not neutralize, the misuse of  knowledge. The scholarly community is not totally oblivious of the need for this mechanism. Awareness has always been there right from the beginning as clearly indicated in the presence of the code of ethics in every profession, including scholarship. Unfortunately, the persistently marginal (or marginalized) status of any field that examines knowledge socio-politics, such as social epistemology and sociology of knowledge (including the sub-fields it spawned such as sociology of scientific knowledge, SSK), and the backlash against or the long receding influence within the academy of  the critique of knowledge that the proponents of postcolonialism-poststructuralism-postmodernism have long underscored, indicate the less than adequate appreciation and efforts of the scholarly community in general to address attendant problems—both potential and actual.

In UBD, a few colleagues and I have formed a group within the Science and Technology Research Cluster precisely for this purpose. Called the Good Knowledge Gone Bad sub-cluster, our group—with members from education, health science and social sciences—seeks to develop a mechanism for monitoring and examining the actual use and abuse of knowledge in our respective fields. We are a new group and we wish to extend an invitation to anyone, in any field of studies, who shares our concern to join us in this undertaking. We shall form an international network of scholars who are keenly interested in helping prevent the misuse of knowledge in our own fields. Anyone interested may signify intention to participate by sending a CV to racuramingubd@gmail.com 

Let us not 'educationalize' political and social problems

Note: This is an abridged version of an article I co-wrote with an Indonesian friend and colleague,  Freddy Kalidjernih. The article is entitled "Good Knowledge Gone Bad: The Politics of Blame in Education Discourses in Indonesia" and it was published in Education in Indonesia: Perspectives, Politics and Practices, a volume I co-edited with Frank Dhont. It came out in 2012 as book No. 4 in the Yale Indonesia Forum Book Series. Here we take a close look at two influential no-nonsense critics of education issues in Indonesia, Mochtar Buchori and Winarno Surakhmad, to demonstrate the unintended, and often unrecognized, risks that go with well-meaning expert critiques. The issues raised in this article reinforce the points put forward in my previous post on MTB-MLE

by Rommel A. Curaming

Indonesia is not alone for nurturing spirited national discourses on educational problems. The Philippines and Malaysia show similar tendencies, as evident in press coverage, both mainstream and alternative. Perhaps, the strident critiques of education sector are an inherent feature of every Third World society that pretends, claims, or aspires to be democratic. Be that as it may, Indonesia seems a standout for making a comparatively sizable publication ‘industry’ out of the weaknesses of education sector. This is evident in numerous books on education published in the past several years, as well as in the generous space allotted by newspapers and magazines for education-related issues. Other media outlets such as television, radio, and of course the internet exhibit the same tendency. Furthermore, the presence of ‘superstar’ critics or commentators whose specialty is in education issues, such as Mochtar Buchori and Winarno Surakhmad, is also indicative of this situation.

What are some of the features of this discourse?  First, the propensity among critics or commentators to blame education—or certain stakeholders such as teachers, or pedagogical practices or educational policies—more than it deserves for moral, political, economic, social and cultural woes of the country. 

Second, the tendency to socialize responsibility for problems that otherwise ought to be shouldered heavily by certain groups who, incidentally, cannot but be happy to be absolved of the full weight of such a responsibility.  Responsibility becomes ‘socialized’ when more and more people are being convinced that “It is our fault! Everyone has a role in it” neglecting the fact that access to power and resources is grossly lopsided in favor of certain groups (e.g. government officials, politician etc.). Easily forgotten is the principle that  those who have the greater power ought to be held more accountable.

Equally pernicious, and this is the third, is the tendency at scapegoating. Whereas socialization of blame distributes responsibility across a wide range of stakeholders,  thus diluting if not really sidelining the question of accountability, escape-goating puts wrongly the weight of accountability on certain individuals or groups (teachers, usually) who by virtue of being marginalized do not deserve to be held fully responsible. 

These features emanate from the inclination among observers and practitioners to ascribe greater autonomy, power and capability to education sector than it actually has. The underlying idea is that education sector has the power to effect the changes needed to prevent or achieve something. Easily forgotten is that education is just a part of the bigger socio-economic-political-cultural systems and it depends considerably on forces outside of itself. Many of those that are regarded as educational problems are not really educational in origin, or in nature, but merely symptoms of deep seated political, social, economic and cultural maladies.

The tendency to exaggerate the role of education sector in general and of teachers in particular may be explained by a number of factors. First, many critics or commentators, such as Buchori and Surakhmad, genuinely believe in the enormous potentials of teachers and educational system in general to effect change. The fact that there are some teachers, dedicated and competent as they are, who managed to live up to this expectation drives the point: that it’s just a matter of a steadfast commitment to the calling of being a ‘true teacher,’ in addition to the correct knowhow of teaching. In their apparently mistaken view many in the current generation of teachers simply refuse, for one reason or another, to commit themselves to it and/or they don’t have enough capability or training to teach properly. It is in the critics’ forceful way of exhorting them to ‘do their job properly’ that they have found in exaggerating the role of educators a rhetorical ally.

Second, being the front-liners, the executor or implementor of educational programs, and ones who are in contact with students and parents or the community in general on a regular basis, it is easy for the public to equate the students’ failings to those of teachers'. Their visible presence puts them on the first line of blame whenever things go wrong—teen-age pregnancy, drug addiction, laggard school performance, all sorts of students' misbehaviors.

Third, among stakeholders in education enterprise, the teachers occupy among the weakest or lowest positions. The constancy of blame on them reflects this, and the low-ness of their position  invites further blame. Those who have greater power wish to continue feeling good about themselves by quickly claiming credits for successes and by passing the responsibility for failures to anyone or anything they could, such as education and educators. It is convenient for instance for parents to pass the blame on to education system whenever something bad is committed by their children—bullying, teen-age pregnancy, drug addiction, low scholastic achievement. And for politicians, it is also convenient for them to claim that low economic productivity, growth and competitiveness and hence widespread poverty in the country lies in the inadequacies of education. This is not to deny that education has important role to play in all this, but we should not lose sight of the proportionate role of other factors such as governance, media, family, religious institutions, and of course politics. In addition, we should not forget that the extent to which education sector can successfully carry out its mandate depends significantly on the resources the government or politicians allow it to use. 

Fourth, the educators themselves tend to accept and propagate the view of the exaggerated role of education in solving societal problems, thus reinforcing the myth of its paramount role. Partly owing to their weak position in the scheme of things, educators tend to overcompensate by finding comfort in, and by promoting, the supposed importance or elevated position of education. Nurturing the discourse on the importance of education helps them feel good about themselves. It is a salve that helps them cope with the difficult and marginalized position they are in. For critics like Buchori and Surakhmad, who themselves are educators, what goes with the emphasis they give on education factors in analyzing national problem is the privileging of their field of expertise, and of themselves vis-à-vis others critics in a competitive field of opinion-making in Indonesia. For lowly positioned classroom teachers who toil day in and out, receiving meager salaries while carrying out heavy responsibilities and receiving the brunt of blame, the myth provides a psychological cushion that makes the otherwise unbearable situations appear better than they actually are.

Finally, the very nature of education—as a collective enterprise, a process, an institution, a tool for training, as social and culture-capital generating mechanism—makes it a perfect candidate for being the ultimate scapegoat. It offers practically everyone an excuse for practically everything. Just as it is often treated as a panacea for all kinds of problems, it can also be made an excuse for failing to address these problems. Its usefulness for practically everyone ensures that its importance will tend to be exaggerated.

Mass public education is probably one of the most politically astute inventions of modern democratic tradition. Politicians of all ideological persuasions—be they liberal, conservative, socialist, etc.—have found it useful for their political purposes. By offering educational opportunities for everyone, they appear true to the claim of being a promoter of public welfare;  they also provide a subtle mechanism for everyone to own the responsibility for their progress (or lack thereof), easing off much pressure from the political establishment. At the same time, by ensuring through lack of material support and political will, that public education will always be seriously problem-laden, they have an effective smokescreen for many of the nation’s failings for which leaders, as a collective, should be held largely responsible—low productivity and competitiveness, poverty,  moral degeneration, lack of nationalism, rise in delinquency, etc. In Third World democracies such as Indonesia and the Philippines, the education sector has served as a convenient whipping boy.

So what can educators do? I do not wish to perpetuate the problem my co-author and I have analyzed in this article by saying that the key to solving this problem lies in their hand. The truth is, they can only do so much. Their awareness of the problem, however, will be a step towards easing, if not really neutralizing, the pernicious multiplier effects of the 'mass education myth'. What well-meaning influential educators, scholars, intellectuals and opinion makers can do to help is to bring back the sense of proportion in analyzing issues. Let us not 'educationalize' and 'socialize' what are otherwise fundamentally political problems.