The imagined future is always a tenuous thing. But there is nothing more fragile than this present, which would’ve been impossible to imagine three, four decades ago. This is no paean to the past and what we could’ve done better, as it is an insistence that the present has to now know to look to the future differently, given the complexities of information and propaganda and how the socio-political landscape is being changed by it every day.
The germ of the idea for Sining Siyasat had to do with wanting to find footing in this present and navigating differently what has come to be fashionably called “a polarized society.” Used theoretically, “polarization” gives off a sense of objectivity. In reality, given the social segment that speaks of this as crisis, what surfaces is also a sense of an internalized, silenced elitism, one that looks at the masses as a collective that needs to be educated but not heard, blamed and judged and necessarily misunderstood. Solidarity of any kind is untenable given this state of affairs; socio-political change might be completely out of the picture.
PAGASAph built itself during the pandemic lockdowns through conversations. It was this that allowed us to speak of what was happening in the poorest communities, to a network that was growing by the day, one that sought to help but also to understand better the state of the nation through the people who are living through the worst of it.
The state of the nation (so far)
Across the conversations we’ve had in Marikina, Pasig, North and South Caloocan, Navotas, and Cubao the year, across the sectors of tricycle drivers, market vendors, healthcare workers, housewives, and factory workers, the dominant crisis is that of inflation. But the experience of it is distinct: it is about not being able to afford what used to be accessible; it is not being able to set aside a little for leisure, or savings; it is, as one nanay put it: “Hindi mo na nahahawakan ang pera.”
The idea of not being able to hold on to one’s money is interesting, especially as there is barely any that comes in for a majority of those we spoke to. Tricycle drivers are at the mercy of good days, and really really bad days — a by-product of more people choosing to walk distances they used to ride public transport for, at the same time that more drivers ply the same routes. These kinds of specific crises exist for all the sectors, with little to no sense of how these might be resolved, and how conditions might be made better.
The experience of governance
What is clear though is that the national government can make life easier. Be it in terms of the hazy sense that it is the President’s job to do so, or the more nuanced take that he should be able to speak to capitalists who insist on hiking up prices. Surprisingly, even those most dismayed about how hard life has become could swing just as quickly in the direction of understanding: the President is not solely to blame, he is not the only one calling the shots.
This dismay in national governance is also important because it is tied to the part of the conversation where they talk about survival. “Buti na lang nandyan si Mayor / si kapitan” is a standard line, which speaks to who they need to access to get any kind of assistance. There is no sense here that basic services (healthcare, education, housing, etc.) are in fact basic rights; neither is there a sense that this is exactly what all citizens deserve. Instead it is seen as something that makes their local leaders distinct, and which makes living where they do special.
The conversations expectedly always circle back to how difficult life is, as it does to an articulation of helplessness, and surrender. “Wala tayong magagawa eh. Kahit sino namang presidente, mahirap pa rin kami.”
The political landscape
And yet, there is excitement when the conversation shifts to the elections. A majority believe in the exercise of voting as an important duty, as it is a right. There is a sense that voting is an opportunity to make change happen. Yet other than the President and the local officials, there is little to no conversation about the repercussions of these votes on their lives; across these conversations, there is no clear sense of what it is senators and congress representatives are supposed to do.
The political landscape here is only built from two spaces—the local (city and barangay), and the national (the President). There are no in-betweens. The local is about their real-life engagements with the political, given where they live, their access to services, their needs that are addressed, the roles they play in the community. The national is the President: what he’s doing, what he’s saying, who he’s seen with, etc., given the media they are watching and have decided is credible. Across a majority of these conversations, few are watching TV and traditional media, and when they do they take what they hear with a grain of salt. What they know of nation instead comes from their social media algorithms, which one senses is different even for those who live within the same community.
As such, one can only be fascinated by what’s maintained as a collective belief across these spaces. For example, in these conversations that start with “Kumusta po ang buhay natin?” a response would consistently include a comparison between Duterte and Marcos—the idea that life has never been more difficult in the present, pivots quickly to an almost nostalgia for the previous leadership. And this reminiscence is not just tied to the cost of goods and price of fuel; it is also tied to peace and order and the fact that in their communities, in the time of Duterte, they all felt safer.
This kind recent memory is also what benefits Sara Duterte in the present, despite efforts to discredit her. Where the existence of political dynasties are not questioned, there is every reason to imagine that Sara would do a better job than Bongbong; after all, they all remember what it was like during her father’s time.
Necessary inconclusions
At the core of Sining Siyasat are these conversations. And it is not one that’s tied to survey forms, or notions of political mapping, or campaigns; it certainly is not about promising assistance of any kind. At its most basic, these conversations seek to surface insights we would otherwise not have about what it’s been like for the majority of the poor in this country the past year or so, and since forever. It puts value on their experience of the present and their thoughts about nation and democracy and freedom, which arguably allow us insights into the future, the nearer the better. At its best, we allow these insights to affect our own sensing of nation and build from it our own criticality towards putting our creativities to better use. So that we might have deeper conversations, more productive engagements, and actual solidarity that brings us to moments of actual change.
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