We need statesmen, not politicians

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📷 Philippine News Agency.

We need statesmen, not politicians.

A statesman is a highly respected political leader, wise and prudent in his words and judgment, upright and virtuous in public comportment, and prioritizes national interest over political affiliations and personal gain. A “philosopher king” in the eyes of Plato. A politician is the exact opposite.

A statesman is fiery and flowery in both speech and action. No-nonsense but values accountability. Broad-minded but with conservative, Filipino foundations. A politician grandstands for optics and surveys to continue his dominion.

A statesman’s speeches are for keeps. His words gush forth straight from the heart. He has no need for speech writers — his public discourses are woven from the deepest recesses of his mind. All his public declarations are book-worthy. A politician’s speech, many of which are ghost-written, is meme-worthy.

Whether or not you disagree with a statesman’s views, you still have high regard for him. Unlike a politician who is disrespected and treated with much contempt nowadays, even by minors. Think of Claro M. Recto, Francisco Rodrigo, Manuel L. Quezon, Salvador Laurel, Teofisto Guingona, Vicente Y. Sotto, Enrique Magalona, Arsenio Lacson, Sergio Osmeña, Jovito Salonga, Francisco Tátad, Cipriano Primicias, and to some extent, even Ferdinand Marcos and Benigno Aquino Jr. You may always disagree with what they said or did, but at the end of the day, you cannot deny their intellect and the good intentions that they had for our motherland.

A statesman is cognizant of the fact that he is in position because of public trust, and he values it with gratitude and the willingess to serve. A politician knows only power, and that he is obliged to help his constituents only to maintain that power for himself and for his family and cronies.

A statesman is the highest form of a politician. He is molded by a combination of intelligence, hard work, and selflessness; not from wealth, famous surnames, or celebrity status. Statesmen often clash heads with each other over differences in policies. But at the end of the day, they can still warmly shake hands and heartily dine together, shrugging off heated debates as nothing more but some official work to be done. Unlike today when warring solons take it to the limit by lambasting each other in media interviews and referring to the other camp as enemies.

A statesman knows the difference between intelligence and wisdom, and he knows how to wield both for the betterment of his constituents. A politician, on the other hand, knows only cunning and nothing more.

Our government today is in dire need of statesmen. We don’t need politicians who are composed of action stars, athletes, businessmen, religious leaders, military personnel, vloggers, and what have you. We already have a surfeit of these harlequins for the longest time. We have to bring the power back to our political system by reinstating statesmen.

The problem is where to find them.

My religious conversions

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Sometime during the late 90s, I was on my way to my Padre Rada Street in Tondo, to the house where my mother grew up. I can’t remember the exact year nor the reason why I was headed there. But I remember the exact moment…

I was descending the stairs of LRT Carriedo Station. It was nighttime of January 9th, the feast of the Black Nazarene. I was still in school uniform. Avenida Rizal was bare of vehicles but littered with all sorts of debris and vexatious vendors. The air was still, as if there was no “amihan”. But somewhere off Carriedo, towards where Quiapo Church was situated, I could hear the multitude of devotees. From afar, their voices were ecstatic, joyful (and triumphant? haha!).

But I shook my head in disapproval. I must have clucked my tongue, too. Because during that time, I was already having a crisis of faith. My belief in God was already standing on shaky foundations as I was already steeped in impious literature.

In about a year or two, I shunned the faith of my fathers for those that I deemed were more faithful to Scripture. I went from church to church, like an indecisive bee hovering from one flower to another. But my search for that one true faith got entangled with life experiences that were all too bitter. Humorously, I ended up an agnostic. Marxist literature broke the camel’s back, turning me not just into an atheist, but into an anti-Catholic Marxist atheist, the worst of its kind.

I spat on churches, stole consecrated hosts for vainglory, and devalued catechism in front of friends and cousins. 😞

But it is really true that God moves in mysterious ways. One thing led to another. True enough, my search for our national identity led me back home to Christ’s Bride: the Catholic Church.

Who could have known that some 30 years later, after that boring but unforgettable descent into dark and dank Avenida Rizal, I would turn out to become one of the ecstatic and joyful voices, triumphantly shouting “¡Viva! ¡Viva! ¡Viva!” with other “Hijos de Nazareno” as the centuries-old image of the Black Nazarene passed by in front of us. From calling them idol worshippers, I became one with the flock of faithful sinners who never tire of seeking mercy and guidance from the image that represents the one true King of the Universe.

¡VIVA NUESTRO PADRE JESÚS NAZARENO! 😇

Black Nazarene procession survival tips

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I am a veteran of the world-famous Quiapo traslación¹. Since 2012, I have joined 14 consecutive traslaciones² and, despite my lean frame, have survived the very dangerous ocho³ numerous times. Suffice it to say, I believe that I have adequate capacity to give advice to first-timers who are planning to attend tomorrow’s event (which will be my 15th). So, without further ado…

My closest shot of the andas at last year’s traslación.

1. MAKE SURE YOU HAVE PLENTY OF SLEEP.
This should be a no-brainer. You will be joined by millions of devotees who will literally eat up every square inch of space, including sidewalks and center islands, just to get near the andas³. You will have to wrestle your way through.

2. DO NOT WEAR ANY FOOTWEAR.
On my first traslación, I was scolded by devotees because I was wearing a pair of canvas sneakers. I didn’t know back then that devotees were barefoot! Thus, I accidentally stepped on many devotees’ feet. But in the end, I didn’t have to remove my sneakers — both were heavily torn for being stepped on by a multitude. I went home barefoot myself. 🤣

3. DO NOT GO NEAR THE ANDAS ALONE.
If you plan to go to the traslación just to witness it, or to pray from a safe distance, then fine, you can go alone. But if you are planning to touch the miraculous andas and/or ropes, it is advisable that you’re with company. As per my observation through the years, those fortunate individuals who were able to climb the sacred andas almost always had friends to assist them. Also, you cannot and should not bring personal items with you if you want to go near the andas. You will have to leave your wallet, cell phones, keys, shoes, etc. to a friend who will be left at a safe distance as you you swim through the sea of humanity. Case in point: on my first traslación in 2012, I lost my wallet which was tucked deep in my jeans’ pocket — the thief who stole it was an astonishing expert! 😂 So yeah, I had to go home with no money at all. 😫

4. BRING LOTS OF WATER.
I know, it’s a holy event. But still, there will be lots of opportunist vendors who will sell you bottled drinks with insane prices.

5. WEAR SHORT PANTS AND SHIRTS MADE OF LIGHT FABRIC.
You will be able to move about easily with short pants, not to mention the high possibility of climbing up the andas (it’s difficult to do so while wearing pants or jeans). Just make sure you wear a belt to fasten it up your waist to prevent it from being pulled down accidentally — it has happened many times! 🤣 Also, it is advisable to just wear light clothing because it’s going to be a very sweaty affair.

6. FOLD YOUR ARMS LIKE A BOXER.
If you’re deep within the crowd of millions, you should maintain a boxer’s stance by folding your arms in front of your chest. This position helps protect your ribcage and creates vital space around your lungs in order for you to breathe.

7. RAISE ONE ARM IF YOU CAN’T BEAR NO MORE.
If you’re caught within the ocho ropes and you feel that you’re already being crushed by the massive crowd, just raise one arm and shout “¡Mg̃a capatíd, sa banqueta na acó!” or “¡Mg̃a capatíd, lalabás na acó!“⁵. Believe it or not, the people around you will try their best to usher you out to safety. Contrary to anti-Catholic belief, all devotees there care for each other’s protection. Also, the banqueta (Spanish for sidewalk) is considered a safe zone for devotees.

8. IGNORE ANTI-CATHOLICS, OR JUST SHOUT “¡VIVA!” TO DROWN THEIR HECKLING
As in previous years, there will always be anti-Catholics with megaphones who will tell devotees the usual “Do not worship images!” bull. Do not engage with them because there is a proper time for that. And there will always be Catholic apologists who will respectfully debate with these holier-than-thou naysayers. Just shout ¡Viva! to drown their heckling. But if you wish to witness such debates, please do not heckle the hecklers. We are there not to quarrel but to adore, venerate, and petition the blessed image of Christ.

9. BE VERY PATIENT.
There will be lots of pushing and shoving, but all of these are not deliberate. Learn to say sorry when you accidentally hit someone.

And if I may add, PLEASE DO NOT LITTER! Bring an extra plastic bag for your trash and dispose of it properly. Be good and responsible Catholics, please. At para hindí rin tayo masitá ng mg̃a anti-católico. Please don’t forget to take good care of this planet which was gifted to us by the Black Nazarene Himself.

Lastly, we should not forget that the traslación is a centuries-old spiritual tradition. We should still be mindful of piety and solemnity despite the noise.

¡VIVA JESÚS NAZARENO!

¹traslación – Spanish for transfer, commemorating the Black Nazarene’s transfer from the Iglesia de San Nicolás (now occupied by MANILA BULLETIN) in Intramuros to the Iglesia del Santísimo Nombre de Jesús (now known as the Minor Basilica and National Shrine of Jesús Nazareno) in Quiapo.
²Actually, the traslación was suspended from 2021 to 2023 due to COVID-19, but devotees still trooped to Quiapó.
³ocho – refers to a specific rope maneuver where the Black Nazaren’s carriage, pulled by devotees with two thick ropes, is made to move by rhythmic, figure-eight motions, allowing for controlled stops and movements, especially during rest or when navigating dense crowds.
⁴andas – the ornate, wheeled carriage or float that carries the revered statue of the Black Nazarene. It serves as the central platform for the image during the traslación.
⁵”Brothers, I need to go to the sidewalk!”

Our country’s political age

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We have been independent for nearly 80 years. But that length of sovereignty is only an eyeblink compared to 333 years under Spain. Even if we add up all the years that we have as a sovereign state with those under the US and Japanese regimes, our time under Spain still remains the longest. That is why we cannot simply shrug off that extensive period of our history as mere part of our past. Because that past still lingers, still breathes. That past is still alive in our traditions, in our fashion, in our architecture, in our idioms, in our cuisine, in our body language, in our faith. It is still being played in song and dance, remains the canvas of the colors of our minds, and is the backbone of our prose and poetry in whatever language that we write.

Infograph: Navarræ PJ

Capitanía General de Filipinas / Filipinas: 333 years
United States Military Government of the Philippine Islands: 4 years
Insular Government Philippine Islands: 34 years
Commonwealth of the Philippines: 11 years
Republic of the Philippines / Republika ng Pilipinas: 80 years

That past will forever be our ever-present past. For what is 129 years compared to 333?

Attacking the medium

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New Year’s Day Mass at the Imus Cathedral.

The most ingenious way of attacking the Catholic Church in Filipinas is tarnishing the reputation of its conduit — the three centuries of Spanish rule. This method of attack is called leyenda negra or black legend. By perpetually finding fault in all aspects of Spanish rule in our country, anti-Catholics further cement their case, offering a twisted version of “no good fruit comes from a good tree”. In other words, if it’s from Spain, it must surely be evil. That is why it is an imperative for them that Masonic propaganda and other related literature (Fray Botod, Noli Me Tángere, Dasalan at Tocsohan, etc.) should be taught in schools as if they are gospel truth. Not an ounce of good from our Spanish past must be taught at all. This systematic brainwashing in turn produces hispanophobes who continue the sickening cycle. Thus we have clueless Filipinos today who hail these propagandists —many of whom attacked not just the friars but also Church doctrine and dogma— as our country’s saviors but at the same time maintain their Catholic faith, whose status is already made brittle by said leyenda negra. The main objective, really, is to destroy the mystical Body of Christ, also known as the Catholic Church.







Creo que mi cuenta de Facebook está en peligro 😞

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Estaba usando mi Facebook hace unos minutos cuando, de repente, la pantalla se quedó en blanco. Y entonces apareció una solicitud de Meta (el dueño de Facebook). Me pedía un vídeo de mi cara desde varios ángulos. Después de enviar el vídeo, apareció este mensaje…

Ya tengo 16.525 seguidores allí. Pero eso no me preocupa. Me preocupan más los recuerdos que he atesorado allí: miles de fotografías de mi difunta mujer y nuestros hijos desde 2009.

Tengo la sensación de que mi cuenta ya no se restaurará. No tengo ni idea de por qué Meta me hizo esto. Soy una persona real, no una cuenta falsa. Esto es muy injusto y doloroso. 😞

Transition: facing the years alone

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I have not posted on this blog for a long time. Now that a new year has arrived, it is only fitting that I renew it with a fresh start especially now that I have regained my writing groove back. And if I really want my writings to remain relevant, I need to be everywhere online, not just on Facebook. Having said that, let’s do this one more time…

Early this year, I announced that I would shift my gears to a new advocacy: anti-mining. It was spurred by Agusan Petroleum and Minerals Corporation’s attempt at exploiting my late wife’s hometown of Abra de Ílog of its potential mineral resources. But the advocacy was a flop. I lost hundreds of followers who were used to seeing me write only about Filipino history, culture, and the Spanish language in our country. I wasn’t ready for the mining industry. My knowledge about it and its related issues were minimal, and there was simply little time for me to do further study and research due to crucial transitions at my workplace.

But what really put to an end to my plans of going up against Agusan Petroleum and Minerals Corporation and their ilk was staunch opposition from my parents-in-law who feared for my family’s safety. Tama rin namán silá cahit papaano. Besides, virtually all politicians in the island of Mindoro are against mining. So I am confident that my wife’s beloved home island is in safe hands. Nevertheless, I will still keep watch over the situation.

Writing about Filipino History, particularly the fight against this evil called the leyenda negra, is what I really do best. I just couldn’t get that fight out of my system, depression and grief be damned. So I guess I’m back.

* * * * * * *

I created a new Facebook page called Images of Imus where I will feature interesting sceneries from my family’s new home (we’ve been residents since June 16 of last year). This is an invitation to follow it. Just click on the image below.

* * * * * * *

If 2024 was the worst year of my life, then 2025 was a year of transition. It was a year filled with grief, but also a year filled with hope. Hope of moving forward, hope of moving on. It was a year of gaping loss, but also a year of fulfillment. Fulfillment of a promise to soldier on, and to courageously raise our five children on my own. If during my carefree youth I never dreamed of having my own family, neither did I expect of becoming a solo parent one day, and at so young an age at that.

But who am I to question what lies ahead? I am a mere mortal, always clawing at the light, jabbing at the wind, in a perpetual battle against choice and circumstance. I dared stare at the sun not to fathom its might but to measure mine with it. But then I realize that it’s all pride and pretend. She was my might. She was my courage. She was my reminder of what humility is. All my battles were fought with her by my side. There were times that we both tumble down, but it was always her who got up before I did, pulling me up and putting me back on my proper place on this cruel ground. But she’s gone now, and all that I have with me are her precious memories that hopefully will forever cling on, the way she clung to me with so much faith and love — the kind of love that is enough to burn out the sun.

If 2025 was a year of transition, then 2026 is that cold year when I will truly face more decades of emptiness without her. I will rely on the memory of her embrace, her mirthful smile, and her hearty laughter to spur me with the will to carry on. Así que ayúdame, Dios.

📷Photos taken on 18 November 2012 at Starbucks, Alabang Town Center by our daughter Krystal.

¡Feliz y próspero año nuevo a todos!






Shifting my gears towards a new advocacy

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Last May 14, news broke out that the Supreme Court nullified Abra de Ílog’s mining ban. Their reasoning is that the local ordinances banning mining from Abra de Ílog and other parts of Mindoro Occidental should not supersede that of the Philippine Mining Act. Abra de Ílog’s mining ban, therefore, was unconstitutional. Pro-mining entities such as the Chamber of Mines of the Philippines were upbeat with the decision. So that prompted me to wake up from my self-imposed writing hiatus to confront this anomaly. So five days later, on my Facebook account, I wrote the following:

My beautiful wife Yeyette at the peak of Prayer Mountain, a popular hiking area at the outskirts of the Población in her hometown, taken on 1 April 2018.

I have a neighbor who is a venture capitalist. We’re not friends, but we get to chat from time to time. Unfortunately for me, during one of our chats, he was able to find out that I have some savings in the bank, and that my house has a front garden big enough for his business venture. He asked to borrow my money, and he showed intent of using my front garden for his business enterprise. He promised me that I will earn a lot from what he was about to do. Moreover, the business he had in mind will help our subdivision become prosperous because it will employ its jobless residents.

I politely declined. He got angry at me and threatened to file a complaint against what he calls my penurious character.

Wait… what? Just because I refused to lend him MY money and lease MY land, he will complain me to our local authorities? I laughed at his face and told him to go ahead. I promptly went to our barangay hall to seek assistance. Our barangay chairman listened intently to my bizarre case. But I was shocked to find out from him that our city actually has an ordinance that grants exclusive rights to make businessmen to freely borrow money and other forms of capital from those who had means for the sake of local development.

Fortunately for me, the barangay chairman, finding said ordinance to be insane, sided with me and issued a moratorium, banning such aggressive businessmen from getting their hands from those who had means for a period of 25 years.

Unfortunately for me, this businessman neighbor of mine retaliated by making good his threat of filing a complaint against me to city hall.

After hearing both sides, our city government ruled in favor of the greedy businessman. It ruled that the moratorium issued by our barangay hall was illegal because it interfered with the city’s ownership and control over the exploration, development, and use of our subdivision’s resources. It pointed out that their ordinance already provides safeguards, so a moratorium was unnecessary.

All our city government officials could muster to me is this: “Dura lex, sed lex”.

Cayá sa mg̃a nañguñgutang sa aquin diyán, huwág na cayóng umasa. And I also have to say goodbye to my wife’s plants because our front garden will be no more.

* * * * * * *

Of course the above narration is pure fiction. But to be more precise, it is a satire of the Supreme Court’s fantastic and admirable ruling over Mindoro Occidental’s case against Agusan Petroleum and Minerals Corporation (see https://tinyurl.com/mrmaebpm).

I am aware that mining gives us benefits, both material and economic. I am also aware of pro-mining sectors’ much-ballyhooed “responsible mining” mantra. But I am not about to enumerate them all. As a matter of fact, I am tired of weighing in the pros and cons of virtually anything, let alone mining. I am now at this stage in my life where I am totally fed up with injustice seeking to justify its existence in society. Dura lex, sed lex my ass. Because what’s wrong is wrong.

The pristine beauty and diverse ecosystem of Abra de Ílog in particular, and Mindoro Occidental in general, are in grave danger. And I will not just take it sitting down.

Since the successive tragic events of last year, I lost all heart in doing what I loved doing (rewriting our country’s hispanophobic history, promoting our Hispanic identity, and advocating for the Spanish language). I haven’t been reading nor writing as much as I did before. And my myofascial syndrome has rendered me lethargic to the point of helplessness. So I did nothing but sloth away these past few months. Many times, I thought of just living the remaining years of my life as an ordinary person while I hopefully await a reunion with my wife in the afterlife. But this recent Supreme Court ruling inspired me to take up the cudgels once more. And perhaps for one last time.

From now on, I will dedicate what’s left of my writing energy to wage war against Agusan Petroleum and Minerals Corporation planned encroachment in my wife’s home province. I will also wage war against irresponsible miners as a whole.

I AM OFFICIALLY SHIFTING MY GEARS TOWARDS ENVIRONMENTAL PROTECTION. I feel that this is my true calling.

I write this as a declaration of intent: Abra de Ílog and my wife Yeyette are one and the same. You mess with Abra de Ílog, you mess with me.

Para sa Agusan Petroleum and Minerals Corporation: ¿sariling bahay namin gusto ninyóng pasuquin para pagcaquitaan ninyó? ¿Gago ba cayó?

But at this early stage, I am already facing opposition. Not from the mining company that wishes to destroy Abra de Ílog’s natural beauty from my in-laws… Yeyette’s parents! It’s simply because they are concerned for my family’s safety and security.

After all, Agusan Petroleum and Minerals Corporation is a subsidiary of the all-powerful San Miguel Corporation. Truly, a formidable foe.

I am absolutely no match against such a behemoth. Thankfully, I heard that almost all politicians in Mindoro Island (both Oriental and Occidental) are against all forms of mining. This means I won’t really be using the same mental and bodily energy that I consumed when I was still active in promoting Hispanism / Filipino Identity and the Spanish language. Nevertheless, this will still be my battle. For Abra de Ílog, for Mindoro, for the environment.

For my wife.

First death anniversary

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Jennifer Perey de Alas (1976-2024)

At this hour (4:10 AM) exactly last year, Jennifer Perey de Alas, my beautiful wife of 24 years, breathed her last. She was barely 48. She left me two beautiful daughters, three handsome sons, and tons of happy memories.