Red Tag

Arroyo and Her Goebellian Propaganda*
18 September 2006
metrica, manila

In a desperate attempt to cling to power, Pres. Gloria Macapagal Arroyo is now on her way to becoming the Adolf Hitler of this generation. With the number of people denouncing her presidency growing exponentially, her administration has resorted to aggressive red baiting, mercilessly ganging up on personalities and organizations as enemies of the state.

This move is Arroyo government’s response to wind up the brewing political crisis. It has applied the Goebellian propaganda to break the backbone of anti-Arroyo groups. Losing its control over its constituents, it has now become trigger-happy, exhibiting its expertise in employing goons, guns and grenades to silence and cow those who are going against its underlying interests.

The overt singling out of people and organizations as enemies of the state has justified the already intensifying human rights violations in the country. It has given more pretexts to the extensive spate of killings, abductions and political repression which never have been as rampant as these times, even during the Martial Law period. In just five years in power, this government has accumulated a whopping record of more than 300 cases of killings, with abduction and political repression mounting up to hundreds of thousands, enough to put former dictator Pres. Ferdinand Marcos to shame. These atrocious activities have been committed in the broad of the day and the dead of the night, in the market or in school or on the street, in the most gruesome and ghastly manner. Under the Arroyo administration, the Philippines has become nothing but a mere slaughter house.

This red baiting tactic however, falls short to placate and feed the hungry mouths of the Filipino people. Rather than being cowed by the sight and sound of the hails of bullets, they are prepared to face the consequences. Already numbed by the way this government has treated them, they are ready to stake their lives and fight for what have been left for them.

Otherwise, the Philippines will forever be a mass grave.

*a reference to Joseph Goebells, propaganda minister of German dictator Adolf Hitler

Autonomy Under Siege

The Philippine Collegian and RA 9184

The Philippine Collegian bears witness to a lasting tradition of independence as a student institution. It is a publication funded solely by the students, and for years has served as a salient representation of academic freedom and democratic rights. Throughout history, UP students have vigilantly fought for the publication's autonomy from all forms of administration intervention.

Once again, the Collegian's autonomy is under siege.

Using Republic Act 9184 or the Government Procurement Reform Act, the UP administration since June 2006 has blocked the release of the Collegian's printing funds. According to the administration's interpretation of RA 9184, all fees collected by the university are government funds—including the Collegian's funds. Under this false assumption, the UP administration insists that the bidding and selection of the publication’s printing press be facilitated not by the Collegian editorial board, but by the administration itself.

However, the Collegian firmly asserts that it is exempt from RA 9184. It is not a government unit, as it is funded only by the students. Moreover, the Campus Journalism Act of 1991 stipulates that the editorial board should facilitate the selection of the publication’s printing press. The administration’s sole task is to collect the publication fee during registration, and thereafter give full discretion of handling of Collegian fund to the duly selected editorial board. The administration may not intervene in any of the publication’s operations.

In response to the Collegian’s arguments against RA 9184, the UP administration continues to deny the institution of its right to bidding autonomy. In our dialogues, the administration even questions the publication’s “independence” as basis for its exemption from the particular law.
We, from the Collegian, cannot accept this kind of reasoning. To allow the Collegian to subject itself to RA 9184 is tantamount to surrendering its autonomy as a student institution. Even now that the publication’s inclusion in the law is still in question, the UP administration is withholding the publication’s printing fund to coerce the Collegian to submission. Such is why the previous Collegian issues were delayed, while pending issues have not been printed. RA 9184 thus compromises the publication’s fiscal autonomy.

Moreover, allowing the Collegian to subject itself to RA 9184 would set a precedent for the UP administration to thereafter inflict the same law and intervene in the operations of publications and other student institutions in all UP units. In fact, the UP Diliman University Student Council’s publication Oblation is also being subjected to this law.

We from the Collegian view the administration’s insistence to subject the publication to RA 9184 as an assault against the publication’s autonomy. We call on the administration to recognize fully the independence of the Collegian as a student publication. We demand that the administration uphold the Collegian’s fiscal autonomy, specifically its right to facilitate the bidding process.

The Collegian is accountable only to the students, who are its sole publishers. Thus, we call on all students to protect the autonomy of the publication. This issue is a clear manifestation of administration intervention, and a direct attack on campus press freedom.

Uphold the Collegian’s autonomy!

Defend campus press freedom!

Protect the independence of all student institutions and organizations!

Paalam Rando

07 september 2006
makati city

Aside from my ability to watch TV, read Milan Kundera's or Gabriel Garcia Marquez's, eat handful of peanuts or any chichiria, do homework and pull strands of hair in one breath, one of the few things that I can take pride of is my sharp memory. For so long a time, it has been my anchor to survive the turbulent waves of life. Time and again, it has proven to be my effective tool in asserting that I am a force to reckon with, as I could make my friends and former classmates pee in their pants by unearthing and reliving their Sub Rosa they are struggling to put six feet under their memories.

The only difficult thing about it is that it can never be overwhelmed. No matter how you try to bury your nightmares into oblivion, they would continuously hunt you. That has been my situation upon learning that Rando, a former classmate, fell prey to the misfortune.

It was exactly Rando's 26th birthday when it happened. Just went outside to buy some food to treat his friends, he was victimized by recless driving. He died struggling to hold on to his breath on the pavement of Nueva Ecija where he was working as an engineer. It was a life too short for a man whose dream was so immense.

Rando never complained. For the six years that we were together, I couldn't think of any instance where he had a fall out with one of my bully classmates. Whenever he was put into a bad light, he would just smile and shrug his shoulders. Patience it was that he used in dealing with the intricacies of life.

It was in the bus station that I last spoke to Rando. I was going back to Manila and he was reporting to his work in Nueva Ecija. I spent the whole time griping about the delay of the bus, while Rando was seriously planning to host a class reunion to trace the whereabouts of our classmates.

When at last the bus arrived, we went in separate ways with different thoughts hovering on our heads - I, still singing the blues of not arriving to Manila at my desired time, and Rando, excitedly outlining the framework for the reunion.

Rando will be absent in the reunion that he initiated. Yet, he will be with his memories indelibly etched on our minds.

Indeed, memories are all we have.

Going Mobile: Text Messages Guide Filipino Protesters

By Mary Jordan
Washington Post Foreign Service
Friday, August 25, 2006; A01


MANILA -- Raymond Palatino's cellphone pinged loudly, and a text message lit up the display: "Other students are already marching. Where are you?"

Palatino and hundreds of others -- nearly all carrying cellphones -- were on their way to Manila's gated presidential palace for a protest rally. Palatino and what people here call a "text brigade" were still a couple of miles away, about to board buses in the steamy midday heat.

"No, not ready," he typed, holding his phone in both hands, his thumbs flying across the buttons. "We're 30 minutes away."

In a string of unsolved murders in recent months, trade union leaders, government critics, students, journalists and others have been killed. Students had begun clamoring for President Gloria Macapagal Arroyo to do something.

Once they might have called a demonstration by printing fliers. Now, they do it by mass texting. Palatino had spent days getting the word out, banging out text after text on the keypad of his little Nokia phone.

"WEAR RED. BRING BANNERS." The messages -- faster and cheaper than phone calls -- went to thousands of young people, telling them to gather near Morayta Street.

"I didn't talk to anyone," said Palatino, 26, a university graduate who has a contagious smile and aspires to be a teacher. "All the organizing is done through texting. It's affordable and instant."
Cellphones and text messaging are changing the way political mobilizations are conducted around the world. From Manila to Riyadh and Kathmandu protests once publicized on coffeehouse bulletin boards are now organized entirely through text-messaging networks that can reach vast numbers of people in a matter of minutes.

The technology is also changing the organization and dynamics of protests, allowing leaders to control, virtually minute-by-minute, the movements of demonstrators, like military generals in the field. Using texts that communicate orders instantly, organizers can call for advances or retreats of waves of protesters.

This tool has changed the balance of political power in places where governments have a history of outmuscling dissent. In April, Nepal's King Gyanendra ordered authorities to cut cellphone service after protesters against his absolute rule used text messages to help assemble street protests by tens of thousands of democracy advocates.

The Philippines, widely called the text-messaging center of the world, has led the way. When President Joseph Estrada was forced from office in 2001, he bitterly complained that the popular uprising against him was a "coup de text."

This country of 85 million people has only 2 million Internet users and 3 million people with land-line telephones. But there are more than 30 million cellphone subscribers here, according to government statistics, more than double the figure in 2002.

Initially, mobile phone companies offered free texting. Today, a text message still costs just 2 cents, a fraction of a call. A typical Filipino mobile phone user sends about eight texts a day, spending far more time texting than talking.

Every major Philippine political party and nonprofit group has a database of its supporters' cellphone numbers. Many use computers to automatically generate mass text mailings to those phones with news about issues or rallies or upcoming votes.

"When Estrada was ousted, we realized the power of texting," said Palatino, the slight, well-spoken president of a national youth party. "Since then we have never stopped using it to advance our causes."

At 1:30 p.m. on a recent day, Palatino and three students lingered near the doughnut case in the 7-Eleven on a congested corner of Morayta Street. They stood in the air-conditioned cool, cellphones in hand, waiting for a text.

Outside in the sweltering sunshine, amid street kiosks selling goods from iced coconut drinks to 1973 National Geographic magazines, other young people stood around, trying to blend in and avoid the notice of a few police officers who walked up and down, watching. Some of the students carried rolled-up banners that said "Stop the Killings." Each clutched a cellphone.

They knew police had been ordered to disperse unauthorized crowds near the presidential palace and would not hesitate to use wooden batons and water cannons to do it. So organizers wanted to make sure that everyone converged at the same time to make the rally harder to break up.

Soon Palatino's phone was alive with a flurry of texts from coordinators and marchers anxious to start.

One asked: "Are the media here?"

About a dozen TV cameramen and newspaper photographers gathered outside. They, too, had been summoned by text.

At 1:45, Palatino's phone pinged again, this time with the message: "ASSEMBLE RIGHT NOW!"
A smile crossed his face. With a few more taps of his thumbs, he forwarded the command down the text brigade ranks. He sent it to those on his phone list, and each who received it did the same. In seconds, about 1,000 students were in the street, stopping traffic and sending cars and bicycle taxis scattering.

Two students quickly hooked up a public address system to the battery of a vehicle. One by one, leaders climbed on top of it to fire up the crowd. Palatino demanded that President Arroyo do more to end the killings and allocate more money for universities.
"Books, not bullets!" he shouted.

The all-at-once strategy worked: The police were caught off guard. Only a few officers were on the scene, and they quickly pulled out their own cellphones to make urgent voice calls. Within minutes, scores more officers arrived.

They lined up to block the demonstrators. Many wore helmets and carried riot shields. A red firetruck arrived at the intersection. It stopped, its water cannon pointed at the crowd.

Palatino looked at the growing confrontation, worry creeping across his face for the first time. "It will be a success if we can stay long enough to get our message out," he said.

As the speeches continued, a police commander negotiated with a female protest leader.
At 2:38, she stepped away and composed a text, which she sent to Palatino and eight other organizers. In a mixture of Tagalog and English, the country's two official languages -- a popular combination known as Taglish -- she called for a meeting to plan their next move.

They huddled in the middle of the street like a football team. It started to rain.


The protest was a success, the leaders agreed. It had lasted an hour already and surely would make the evening news. They worried about the police, but decided to take their chances and keep going. They agreed to press on toward Mendiola Street, historically a popular protest site within sight of the presidential compound.

They knew they couldn't break through the police lines. So they decided to take a different route, Bustillos Street, which the police might not expect.

Then came the next mass text command. "BUSTILLOS!"

At first, the police looked pleased: The students were retreating. Then, they realized the protesters were only changing course. Officers hustled into new positions and cut off the crowd closer to the palace.

At 3:30, violence broke out. The students retreated, police running after them, hitting them across the back, head and arms with batons. Thwack! Thwack!

Caught up in the melee, ducking from the swinging batons, Palatino heard his phone ping loudly.

"GET OUT OF THERE. You are in a dangerous place," warned the text, from a friend who could see that Palatino was about to be pinned between the crowd and a wall.
An officer grabbed Palatino.

"ID! ID! Now!" the red-faced officer demanded.

A small group of officers closed in around Palatino, whose eyes were suddenly wide with terror.
Students who saw it quickly typed a text alert to others, using Palatino's nickname: "Mong is being arrested."

But as suddenly as they had grabbed him, the police let him go and ran off to help another group of officers who were beating a group of students.

Relieved but shaken, Palatino walked quickly toward a Shakey's Pizza on España Boulevard, where earlier texts had instructed everyone to meet once the protest ended. As he walked, his phone pinged loudly with text after text.

Like other leaders, Palatino was responsible for making sure everyone in his group was safe and accounted for.

Texts of "WHERE ARE YOU?" raced through the crowd.

After an hour, 10 people out of the 1,000 had not replied. So organizers dispatched people to police stations and hospitals to check for the missing.

An hour later, students started filtering home in time for the 6:30 news, which was filled with graphic scenes of police officers beating the young protesters.

Just after 7 p.m., Palatino received a text with the final tally: 34 students injured, eight seriously. Ten people detained, then released.

"Before, we had no choice but to keep quiet and listen to the president," Palatino said, still holding his tiny phone. "This is a development for democracy."