Feeling the power

By Leiron Conrad T. Martija

I was watching the local news recently and for once I actually decided not to change channels when it got to the public service segment. You know, it’s the part where they feature some unfortunate soul who needs assistance from the well-off. There’s always some kid who was injured by firecrackers, some downtrodden family living in a shanty, some hardworking Juan or Juana suffering from an incurable sickness and having mounting hospital bills, or some community with a school a kilometer away.

Watching these always disgusted me in a sense. I can’t help but think that if the TV stations are actually intent on doing good by helping people in need, do they have to sensationalize everything? It’s like they’re bringing street beggars to television. I mean no offense to the marginalized. I understand that they are all victims of society (aren’t we all?), but I don’t like the way they are being paraded on television. It smacks of schadenfreude already. Because strangely, in a twisted and grotesque way, it’s kind of, well, entertaining.

I have to admit the people running TV stations are really good. Maybe it’s the soft background music they play, or the camera angles or the setting, but they really are convincing.

I just came from our training in the debating team, and I know how difficult it is to convince a few people. But these television programs, though you often have to disagree with them intellectually, can convince you because they really make you feel what they want you to feel.

I think that Filipinos are the most romanticized people in the world. If there’s one thing in our nature, it’s that wanton hunger for the emotion; we just love emotion and being emotional. It’s in our music, in our culture, in our language, and in our literature. We are a nation resting on a bedrock of feelings and passions, and these are so deeply rooted in us that they hinder us from seeing the larger picture.

In that particular news program, a woman was shown sitting by the bedside of her injured son, crying and begging for help on national television. Sure, I pitied her and all that. And even if there was nothing I could contribute to somewhat ease her pain, the mere sight of her crying in front of TV cameras made me feel rather powerful. Here was a woman, a human life, accepting defeat and imploring me for help!

I imagined what it would be like if I did help her. Wasn’t it Sun Tzu who said, “Those who conquer by force conquer only half their opponent”? True victory resides not in elimination, but in the practice of benevolent justice. You know what it’s like when another person submits himself to your will, to your decision? No wonder presidents want to be dictators.

I think it’s great that we are so driven toward achieving our goals, but maybe that’s why we’re getting nowhere. Maybe to Filipinos, life will never be more than that amazing rock ‘n’ roll concert, that emotional high, that “youthquake.” Maybe the Filipinos love “high school” life so much that we refuse to leave the familiar and to pursue newer things. Sure, we may be extremely passionate, but maybe we have grown to be rather selective about the things we want to feel. Maybe that’s why we only turn up the volume when boxer Manny Pacquiao is winning a match, or if there’s a story about some celebrated mediocrity that supposedly shows our integrity to the global community. Maybe that’s why the only international employment gaps we fill up are the ones involving jobs no one else would take. Maybe Filipinos want to do nothing but sit on their sofas, watching mothers cry with their injured sons in hospital beds and never do anything about it.

Maybe all the Filipinos ever want to do is to touch and feel the power, but never own up to it.

Leiron Conrad T. Martija, 18, is a student at the Ateneo de Manila University.