The real immaturity

I’m coming late to the party — or rather, the melee — but since some students have asked me what I thought about the Mideo Cruz issue over at the Cultural Center of the Philippines, let me go on record with my opinion. I may lose some readers and get swamped with hate mail with this piece (oh, yes, I do get nasty messages from time to time — at least it means I’m being read), but I would be remiss in my duties as an artist and a teacher if I didn’t take a stand in the matter.

First of all, I haven’t personally seen the artwork in question, although I’ve seen pictures of it online. To make a fairer assessment of the painting, it’s best seen onsite, in its entirety, and in context, to have a fuller appreciation of the artist’s aims. Critics of the work have apparently zeroed in on the artist’s placement of a penis (actually, the kind of tourist-kitsch handicraft you can pick up from hundreds of stalls in Baguio) in lieu of a nose on the face of Jesus Christ, so let me deal with just that.

Is it offensive? Doubtlessly, yes, to many Catholics and Christians understandably outraged by what they see as “blasphemy.” A holy figure revered by our religious majority has been defiled, their cherished beliefs injured by the exhibit.

But should it have been taken down? In my view, most definitely not. Viewers have a right to be offended; artists have a right — almost even a duty — to occasionally offend, to jolt us out of the Smiley complacency that we sink into from being cocooned most of the time in consumerist, feel-good, greeting-card art.

And that, I think, should have been that. The exhibit — and the inevitable protests and accompanying debate — should have been allowed to continue. This was, after, all, apparently part of the artist’s intentions —to generate spirited discussion about patriarchy and phallocentrism in our society.

What point was the artist trying to make? Bulatlat.com quotes Cruz as saying that “It’s symbolic of patriarchy, a symbol of power. There are those who worship power, who put their faith in men who wield power even if the power is used against women, or against the whole of society. The fight for sexual and gender equality continues, doesn’t it? But the balance continues to be tipped in favor of the phallus. Is this good or bad? You decide.”

And indeed, whether we accept that as the truth or hogwash, it should be up to us to decide for ourselves. There’s little learning to be gained from merely taking the word of others — whether they be Catholic bishops, Senators of the Republic, National Artists, or UP professors — as God’s own truth; listening to others is a good part of education, but ultimately one has to confront the world in all its beauty, ugliness, and complexity on one’s own. Even less can be learned from staring at a blank wall or a closed door.

Writing on the issue, National Artist F. Sionil Jose described Mideo Cruz as an “immature” artist. With all due respect to Manong Frankie, Cruz’s maturity is beside the point. It’s our maturity as a critically thinking people that’s on the line here. What seems to me more immature is banning movies, books, and other works of art — especially if you have the power—because you don’t like them, because you think they’re bad or you can do better, because they run counter to your own beliefs and values, or because they point an annoying, accusing finger at you. (I’ll agree that badly written books have no right to get published, but once published, it would be silly to ban them.)

I’m glad that another National Artist, Bienvenido Lumbera — like Mideo Cruz and Sionil Jose, a UST alumnus — spoke up for freedom of artistic expression. Few people may know or realize that despite his liberal politics, Lumbera remains a devoutly God-fearing man, and it took real courage for him to stand against the multitudes screaming for Mideo’s head.

I know I’ve just upset some people who’ll jump at me for even trying to defend something they find patently repulsive, but I’ve always held, as have others, that the real measure of freedom in a society is not how well the law protects the majority, but how it secures the rights of the minority to express its views and to practice its ways, for as long as they do no material harm to others. I’m a firm opponent of all forms of censorship, excepting the protection of minors from material beyond their ability to handle, and perhaps the rare and honest case of national security. When we let others make important moral and political judgments for us, even when we can think for ourselves, we encourage our own decline into idiocy.

Having said that, I’m fairly sure I’m not going to fry in hell just for taking this position, if only because I’ve already done much worse to merit an extended stay in the sauna of the soul. I suspect that the God I pray to every night in thanksgiving and confession is much more reasonable and more tolerant than some of His earthly ministers, and can take and even enjoy a good dose of criticism.

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Moving on to less contentious subjects, let me put in a plug for the old alma mater, the Philippine Science High School, which is holding its 42nd Annual Grand Alumni Homecoming, titled “Pisay: Ang Pagbabalik (25 Years After),” on Sept. 3, 5 p.m. at the PSHS Main Campus Gym, Agham Road, Diliman, Quezon City. Alumni are invited to register online at www.pshsnaa.org. Free dinner and drinks will be available for the first 600 registrants. This year’s Silver Jubilee Class, Batch 1986, is organizing a night of fun, food, drinks, raffle prizes and entertainment, featuring the band The Authority, led by ‘80s rock icon/ musical arranger/ composer Juan Miguel Salvador. Proceeds of fundraising activities will go to the rehabilitation of the PSHS Faculty Center.

That’s the official press release. On a more personal note, I just realized that I belong to this year’s batch of Ruby Jubilarians — midlifers who graduated from high school 40 years ago. It’s quite a group that includes (aside from all the real nerds) SBMA busybody Stef Saño, Vista Land boss man Marcelino Mendoza, Ateneo AVP Heck Guballa, indigenous peoples crusader Vicky Tauli-Corpuz, sports honcho Red Dumuk, mining guru Edwin Domingo, racing enthusiast Blue Reyna, and ageless rocker Lynk Lagunzad. Ours was the third PSHS batch; we entered in 1966, but some of us, including myself, graduated in 1970, and others in 1971. How did that happen? Here’s a bit of PSHS trivia that even current “science scholars” may not know about.

We used to have a five-year curriculum (you entered not as a “freshman,” but as a “zero-year” student), ostensibly so we could learn more. At some point, it dawned on us that the extra year was an unjust burden, since it didn’t get us a corresponding year off or any special privileges in college. As editor of the school paper, I helped launch a campaign to cut the five years to four, and what do you know, it worked. Our batch, the transitional year, was given the option to leave in October 1970 — after four-and-a-half years — or to complete the full term. I couldn’t wait to get to UP, and hightailed it out of high school to catch up with the First Quarter Storm.

Maybe that tells you why I resist the idea of shutting pesky artists up.

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E-mail me at penmanila@yahoo.com and visit my blog at www.penmanila.ph.