Of Clarinet Players, Plush Carpets and Calibrated Political Repression

Whenever looking for a way to describe Marcosian architectural projects such as the Cultural Center of the Philippines, I usually come across either pretentious pronouncements or formalist phrases (like 'showcase of national pride', 'a mecca for arts and culture in Asia', 'imposing facade', 'closed forms', 'structural intensity') or profound observations (like 'why no Boysen paint on the walls?' and 'nice front-lawn fountain!'). But nothing ever beats this vivid metaphor from an acquaintance painter, who once wisecracked that the Imeldific edifice looked like a giant inodoro.

So there it was, the image of a massive toilet loomed before us as we crossed Roxas Boulevard to watch a recital of a young clarinet player at the CCP.

I went to the recital because it was free. But no amount of complimentary tickets or familiar faces at the event could dispel the uneasy sensation of ambling along plush carpets at a time when most of us feel dirt poor. Or listening to violins, pianos, and clarinets when, just a few minutes back, we were hearing heated radio reports of how anti-riot police dispersed doused the likes of Jamby, Ka Satur, the bishops, and Mr. Guingona with water cannons, like they were rats or stray cats. Or when you know how ugly the sounds of police clanging on their iron shields or truncheons crunching on bones are.

This same feeling of unease returned while we were walking out of the Little Theater after the performance. Never mind that the recital was one point filled with bloopers that are probably common to all young and novice musicians on their first recitals. Never mind there were around less than a hundred people watching. Never mind that the featured violinist was indeed a good and passionate performer. The entire experience—the juxtaposition of vastly differing realities--was unsettling.

I glanced at the ticket and blanched. It cost P500. I flipped through the brochure with the schedules and ticket costs of other concerts. Some of the cheapest rates cost P300. That's equivalent to four movies or so at SM (at a time when watching a movie can be classified as a luxury). And definitely more than what the average worker or farmer earns in a day.

For one who enjoys a good art exhibit or show, such realizations always hark back to the reality that such cultural products have been conceptually and literally inaccessible for the masses. The entrance rates to such institutions usually doesn’t even pretend to be for the masa, unless under the very problematic framework of cultural charity. And the problem of prevailing ideological configurations among cultural workers always crops up: the peoples' culture is filled with vivid images and vibrant vocabularies, but are enough artists using these as materials for their works? Etcetera. At iba pa. Under such conditions, none of this nation’s majority will willingly and consistently patronize places such as the CCP in the same fervent way that millions of Pinoys have patronized SM.

On the other hand, posing the question of whether the CCP should be made accessible to the masses suddenly seemed inconsequential in the light of the economic and political crisis faced by this archipelago. How can one hope to have more people going to the exhibits, plays, and concerts when we have not even gone one step to solving problems that are so basic and fundamental to human sanity. Problems like feeding the hungry and healing the sick populace. Or having enough jobs, houses, and land. Or ensuring Filipino kids get into school, and actually learn--and stay there. Or giving all the masterminds and killers of slain activists and civilians since 2001 their day in court--in short, incarcerating a significant number of military men and government officials, particularly the petite one in Malacanang.

Until we consciously democratize popular access to our cultural institutions, all the energy and self-proclaimed artistic vision of the CCP and similar institutions to forge a 'Filipino aesthetics' will go nowhere but down the drain. But you've got to have some real, deep-down social, economic, and political change going before you can even conceive of that.

Personally, the CCP visit also only underscored the unofficial state of DICTATORSHIP being enforced by the state. Wandering inside an institution that still adheres to the Imeldific and Martial-Law era tenet of upholding “the true, the good, and the beautiful” makes me shudder in the light of the political harassment and the grisly and alarming killings going around.

In the cities where rallies happen, police and military invoke vague terms like the Calibrated Preemptive Response and blatantly anti-democratic declarations like the 'no permit, no rally' as an excuse to kill the rallies.

The progression of murders, meanwhile, has risen in Central Luzon since September 1, the area of responsibility of the murderer, este, Major Gen. Jovito S. Palparan. In Tarlac and Nueva Ecija, at least six activists from Anakpawis and Bayan Muna have been murdered in the past three weeks. At least seven have been abducted throughout the regions and remain missing up to now. Wala pa doon ang undocumented cases at harassments.

The accounts described in the fact sheets are unnerving, and infuriating. Some of the victims were watching TV or resting in the comfort of their humble homes with their families when armed men suddenly barge in and pepper them with bullets. Some were forcibly abducted in front of their kids. One was tending to his sari-sari store when shot to death. None of them were armed. None of them had tehbenefit of a fair fight. And the military has the gall to idiotically dismiss those killed as being perceived as communists, ergo, deserving to die?

All of these disturbing occurrences seem to have been plucked out of the past, from the days under Martial Law, when institutions and showcases like the CCP, the Film Center, the Coconut Palace were being constructed while the overt era of suppression reigned while covert killings and abductions continued behind the scenes. State support for the arts was indeed relatively strong compared to now, BUT so was massive state support for grisly human rights violations and media suppression.

As I was writing this, I received a text message reporting that a PISTON officer was murdered last night. A motorcycle-riding, bonnet-clad assassin pumped two magazines from a .9 mm gun into his body. Assassins that are chillingly similar to the death squads that killed dozens of activists in Mindoro and Samar just a few months ago, when Palparan was stationed there. Put two and two together. Only morons and Arroyo sycophants will dare describe all these as mere coincidence.

It is morbid, but in my mind I can still hear the sound of clarinets and violins playing as the killings go on. I might find them true, good, and beautiful in another distant place and time, but for now, their melodies make me sick to the bone.
October 16, 2005