Identity crisis

published 28 Feb 2011, MST

If somebody looked like you, had your name and circumstances, and knew your intimate secrets, would you still be you?


One does not feel right commenting on the plot of a story written hundreds of years ago, which in turn is based on legend or mythology from even much earlier. One gets the feeling that these things are cast in stone, that there is no sense in questioning why this character is made to do this or that, and why the events that happen even do, in the first place.

There remains, however, much to say about how such tales are told and retold to an audience decidedly different from what the playwright – of another time and place – envisioned.

There is also no limit to the responses we can give to the fundamental questions raised by such works. That times have changed and societies have evolved are superficial. The gut issues remain, and remain unresolved.

Amphitryon, written by the German dramatist Heinrich von Kleist, is one such work.

It tells the story of how the Roman god Jupiter falls in love with the mortal Alkmene, wife of the general Amphitryon. Jupiter disguises himself as Amphityron, who is supposed to be away at battle, and spends a night of passion with Alkmene. Shortly after Jupiter leaves, the real Amphitryon returns. Alkmene is surprised to see him back so soon with no recollection at all of their earlier time together. Amphitryn is perplexed at her reaction and soon realizes that she has been with another man. He is devastated at her infidelity.

Alkmene is confused especially since Jupiter appears again – this time as the wronged, but forgiving, Amphitryon. Alkmene begins to doubt her own feelings for her husband even as she chooses whom she thinks is the real general. In the end, husband and wife behold Jupiter in his godly form. Alkmene promptly faints.

**

Amphitryon is the last play in the 35th season of Dulaang UP. Jerry Respeto's translation of von Kleist's work is directed by Jose Estrella and features Neil Ryan Sese as Amphitryon, Lex Marcos as Jupiter, Diana Malahay as Alkmene (Wenah Nagales alternates), George de Jesus as Sosias, Paolo O'Hara as Mercury and Lucky de Mesa as Sosias' wife Charis (Natasha Cabrera alternates).

The handful of actors, one set mirroring the other, make the play relevant and accessible to the audience. Alkmene and the two men between whom she is torn tackle the more difficult questions. Sosias, Mercury and Charis provide comic relief. Sosias, the simple-minded soldier-manservant eventually believes Mercury – Jupiter's glib-tongued messenger -- when the latter shows proof of being Sosias. After all, the real Sosias is concerned with avoiding beatings and satisfying his hunger.


Charis is the wife who talks too much and feels she is taken for granted. It is with her that the difference between the real Sosias and the impostor Mercury becomes more apparent. Mercury blatantly refuses her affection and insults her, even encouraging her to be unfaithful to him. When the real Sosias returns, Charis – scorned and insulted by Mercury – becomes even more of a nagger. Sosias, the comic martyr, takes all this in stride. He tries to woo Charis nonetheless, and in the end he requests a meal of longganisa, egg and garlic rice.

Longsilog? In a play, written by a German, about Roman gods? Then again, this is one way the translation/ adaptation works for the contemporary Filipino audience. The characters also use colloquial expressions that hold the audience captive. At one point, Sosias and Mercury single out one girl from the front row. A deeply hurt Amphitryon tells his wife: "Don't touch me!" and after a brief pause, mumbles "maybe later...". Jupiter and Amphitryon chase each other to the audience and even traverse and entire row of (screaming, female) viewers. What long hair Alkmene has, indeed, to have two handsome men – okay, one is technically a god – competing for her affection.

A bamboo bridge, built in a semi-circle and of uneven steepness – spans the entire stage. Behind the bridge and on the left are several trees, with the leaves made of paper "elisi". On the right is a multi-level perch, where Jupiter and his messenger entertain themselves by observing the sorry state of the mortals whose lives they have messed with. The Roman figures strum the guitar and sing merry songs – "Dead na dead talaga ako..." trivializing the sufferings of Alkmene and Amphitryon, sufferings which Jupiter himself has caused.

The bamboo bridge encloses a round bed with a luxurious dose of big, fluffy pillows. This is where the alleged infidelity takes place. But the bed disappears later on in the play as focus is taken away from the unfaithful act and towards its consequences. On the spot where the bed used to be, Amphitryon and Alkmene, standing together, behold the god Jupiter (and quite unapologetic for his mischief!). In this moment of revelation, cold air sweeps the theater, the paper leaves turn and a fog clouds one's vision. There is something otherworldly about the scene as you wonder: Will husband and wife ever be the same again?

**

Aesthetics, ease of language and comical exchanges aside, Amphitryon moves its viewers to ask difficult questions.

For example, mortals Amphitryon and Alkmene lead a quiet, normal (though not necessarily conflict free) life until the god Jupiter messes with them. To what entity do we attribute the things in our lives that we cannot control? Luck, god (of whatever name), serendipity? Do the tragedies we observe left and right account for the random acts of a playful superior being, or are they direct consequences of our actions, in this or in a previous life? In resolving things that are beyond our control, where does free will come into play?

And then, Alkmene is confused as to whom she really loves. Is it her husband, who is always away at battle, obsessed with his conquests and occasionally dismissive of her, or the god Jupiter who descends from his lofty perch to reach out to her? The heroine, however, remains pure in our eyes. How accountable are we for the unintended consequences of our actions even if we act in good faith and seek to neither deceive nor hurt anybody?


Finally, what defines our being us? Are we our bodies, prominent family names, addresses, job titles, bank accounts? Are we the schools we attended, books we read, friends we made and children we raised?

Sosias gave up easily because he wants to be spared of beatings. Amphitryon fought until the end. How far will we defend our being ourselves when we are stripped of everything that defines us?

**

Amphitryon premiered on February 16 and will be playing until March 6 at the Wilfrido Ma. Guerrero Theater, Palma Hall, UP Diliman.

adellechua@gmail.com

Breakfast with the gang

Myself with the gang.



**

That there are millions of Filipinos now scattered in many parts of the world – working, studying, vacationing, or making a new life there, for keeps – is a reality we must live with. It does not sound so formidable anyhow; indeed the world has shrunk because of the Internet. Families have stayed closely knit, friends have kept up, and strangers have stood better chances of becoming part of our lives.

The column Diaspora, which occasionally appears in the opinion section of Manila Standard Today, was envisioned to encourage Filipinos abroad to talk about the many aspects of their lives overseas. Through this column that we began last year, readers of the Standard can feel that they are not only viewing what happens in the Philippines from the outside. Instead they are part of what defines us as a nation.

In Diaspora's early months, I asked my friends (and my friends' friends) abroad if they would be willing to submit essays of a certain length on any facet of their life overseas. A handful of them responded: one wrote about being a balikbayan, another about adjusting to a different culture, yet another about seeing her parents (who were back here in Manila) in a different light since she became a migrant. Friends' friends wrote pieces on traveling, on the maddening weather, and on the many Filipino traditions they miss and don't miss at the same time.

Soon, I – as opinion editor -- started receiving contributions from total strangers. Somebody talked about his mixed feelings at leaving the country and using his skills elsewhere. Another described the high cost of giving children good university education in America.

The essays were all engaging. They provided a peek into something we here have never experienced before. The compositions were deeply personal, yet the issues taken up were universal and could be appreciated by many.

One such contributing stranger was Belma Villa, from Washington state, who out of nowhere sent me an E-mail because she said she had seen our call for contributions. The paper ran her piece soon after. In the succeeding weeks and months, I continued receiving essays from women I could not tell from Eve, but who had no hesitation talking about the bittersweet experiences of mixed marriages, loneliness and loss, as well as the thrill of introducing American neighbors to the smell of Filipino food simmering in the kitchen.

It turned out that Belma and several of the women contributors were old friends – barkadas from the English department of the University of the Philippines, batch 1969. No, they were not living together; they themselves were scattered in various parts of the First World – the US, Canada, Australia. They deliberately submitted essays to Diaspora as a way of challenging each other and renewing their decades-old ties.

**

And then one beautiful morning, I met them.

The group had been planning a vacation to the Philippines for about two years now. This month, and more than 40 years after graduating from UP, their first reunion finally materialized. Given where they were, and their varying circumstances, I imagined it was not easy putting the whole thing together.

They are still here but they do not have much time. Apparently, meeting me – their editor – is a non-negotiable part of their itinerary.

And so I walked into a Max's restaurant and immediately spotted them even though I only knew how Belma looked from her Facebook profile picture. I was introduced to everybody who hugged me tight; all of us were delighted at finally meeting. Aside from Belma, there was Cynthia from Australia, Celeste from Canada, Daisy from Georgia, USA and Cecilia from Connecticut. Minerva and Rose lived in the Philippines. What a noisy, talkative, happy bunch...if you closed your eyes and only listened to them, you would not guess that they were all in their sixties.

Yes, sixties. Their only warning to me: ditch the "po" and "opo." I must have slipped only once, after which I was threatened with a fine.

As we ordered variations of a Filipino breakfast, the gang regaled me with stories of how they were in UP. They passed around a scrapbook – a labor of love, everybody agreed – that contained dozens of pictures of themselves as university students and later on as wives and mothers, until most of them eventually left for their respective destinations. The scrapbook also contained descriptions of every member of the group, narrations of anecdotes and, of course, printed copies of everybody's Diaspora contribution. They went on talking, asking this and that from the waiters, taking more pictures, talking about their teenage days and their lives abroad and how they intend to spend the rest of their vacation.

I was heartened that this group of ladies, who’ve been there and done that, paid there dues and are now just kicking back and having fun, invited me into their group without hesitation, making me feel like I was one of them despite the fact that I was their children's age. One of them (I lost track of who it was) told me: "We will mother you!" When they learned of my personal circumstances, they concluded that I must be indeed one of them, part of their group from '69 – even though I would technically not be born for another seven years.

I had to go somewhere else and they had to proceed with the next item on their schedule. They would be going around UP to relive more memories. I will probably never see them again in years, although I expect to receive more of their writing (they love to write; they are English majors, after all), and perhaps hear from more of their Filipino friends and associates who have their own stories to tell.

Amazing, how friends remain dear to each other despite time and distance, and how strangers just stumble into our lives.

Having a ball

Let's let pictures speak this time. Last Friday was Josh's prom and Sophia's masquerade ball. Their Ate Bea, as an alumna of the high school, crashed the party with her former classmates later on in the evening.

Credits go to the various friends diligent enough to take the photos, upload them on Facebook and tag my kids.



Sophie was a finalist for Masquerade princess. She didn't make it, but she's still my princess.


Sophie and her fifth-grade gal pals.


Josh with his friends May and John. He sports the number 4 tag because he was also a finalist for Prom King.


The Morellas and the Tulagans. From the right: Josh, Sophie, Bea in (somewhat) wacky poses


My lovely ladies

Stung, still

(written on Feb 12, 2011)

It is two in the morning and I am enjoying myself. I am alone in the living room watching the concert of one of the few musicians I truly like and respect. Sting...Live in Berlin, over the Lifestyle Channel. I've been seeing it in snippets since the Christmas holidays. What a great way to end this week of ups and downs.

I remember being in college, 15 or so years ago, and spending my vacant hours at the Rizal Library in Ateneo. A considerable portion of my allowance went to batteries. Yes, double A batteries for my walkman. One of the few cassettes I owned was Sting's Fields of Gold. I played Side A and Side B and Side A all over again. The music got me through exams I had to take and papers I had to write.

Now Sting gets me through household chores I have to plan and supervise, essays I have to grade and yes, articles I have to write. Some things never change.

Sting is not only music and mush. He thinks. He draws inspiration from diverse and disparate sources -- the internal, the external, the vicarious. Love, of course, and its many faces, but he also writes about the Cold War, Augusto Pinochet, love, a vampire, a hooker, a transvestite hooker, love, his father, King David, foxes on the brink of death...the list goes on.

I once saw a National Geographic documentary on the musical mind and Sting says he does not limit himself to the delineations of genres. I think, he does not limit himself, at all.

Live In Berlin mixes Sting's older and newer hits, and he is accompanied by an orchestra -- the Royal Philharmonic Orchestra under conductor Steven Mercurio -- whose members look as though they are genuinely having fun.

Almost as enjoyable are the in-between-songs moments when he explains how each song came about. The anecdote on his inspiration for the song Russians is particularly poignant. And then, just because he's more aware of what goes on than the average artist is, Sting reminds you that he is perfectly capable of being silly in love, and rhyming, as well. “Every move you make, every bond you break...I'll be watching you..”

I turn in happy, eager to rest tomorrow yet eager to start working again, too. I think this is what music precisely does to us non-musicians, mere recipients and beholders of the gift of inspiration. I am thankful for the ability to appreciate such an experience.

Kids at work

One of the things I love about my job is that I am able to bring any of my kids to the office. I don't do it every day, of course, because I would not be able to focus, and it would not be healthy as well. But I do bring Sophie or Elmo on Fridays or Sundays or when they need to shop for something in Makati or when we simply want to spend more time with each other.

Last Wednesday, for instance, I brought Sophie. We had to get a pair of silver shoes as well as some accessories for her masquerade ball. When we got to Standard, she did not sit beside me at my work station at the H-shaped big desk at the center of the newsroom. She never does. She goes online at the MIS room.

Online, Sophie mostly watches episodes of her favorite shows “iCarly” (starring Miranda Cosgrove) and “Victorious” (starring Victoria Justice) on You Tube besides chatting with her friends and viewing their Facebook walls.

When I finished work at 830 – it was a writing day for me, as I had to churn out the following day's editorial – we rushed to have dinner at the food court in SM Makati. Tapsilog at Pinoy Toppings and a 3-piece siomai from Kowloon House. SOLB! PANALO! Afterwards we took a round trip first to the South end of the MRT, for guaranteed seating, and then made the full trip north. We were home by 11 – tired but happy. We fell asleep holding hands.

And then yesterday, Sunday, was Elmo's turn. He brought only his 2008 Time Magazine almanac – his bag was too heavy the last time because he brought his dinosaur, magic and origami books and his toy laptop, and we ended up alternating carrying it – and, together with the 2009 one I bought for him along the way, settled into a couch near my place until five in the afternoon. When the clock struck five, he went to MIS and went online as well.

I finished early because I did not turn in a column (I will publish it later in the week). Elmo and I were out of the office by 645. I was hoping to introduce him to my other favorite place, Mongolian Quickstop at Food Choices in Glorietta, but Elmo requested if he could have the mac-and-cheese-and-waffle meal at Pancake House. The meal cost a bit more than I had planned, but seeing Elmo's eyes light up at the sight of his two favorite foods convinced me it was all worth it.

During the meal we talked about the contents of his 2009 book. He could not let it go even when we were already on board the MRT. The other passengers were looking at us as we talked about countries in Africa and Europe, their respective sizes and capital cities, and the number of moons and rings of a Pluto-less list of planets in the Milky Way.

Elmo had a tummy ache from walking too much and too soon after his hefty meal. (The hike, at our pace, is about half an hour one way). But he recovered soon and was still active even when we arrived home. He fixed his bag in preparation for the following school day, and then he went back to comparing the contents of his 2008 and 2009 almanacs.

I treasure these times with the children. I know they are not going to stay this little, and this eager to be with me, forever.

Sons, mothers and lovers

These women are entitled to some courtesy, as well.

What I find most poignant and compelling about the suicide of General Angelo Reyes, the former chief of staff of the Armed Forces who was embroiled in a corruption scandal, was that he decided to take his life before the grave of his mother.

He was a father, a husband, a mistah, a government official. He was a friend to some and an enemy to others. To the nation, these past few weeks, he was a keeper of secrets.

In the end, he was a son.

Did he remember his mother's words to him when he was a boy? Was he remorseful for going against the good things she presumably taught him? Or did he run to her for comfort, believing that she was his only ally in a world that judged him harshly and unfairly?

That patch of land may have looked like an oasis to the general. It was the best place to assert his choice of honor over life. He must have felt her presence there; finally, he was home.

**

President Aquino has decided to turn his back on reproductive health – or responsible parenthood, however it is called. We have had an inkling of how tough the decision must have been for him. His indecisiveness could only mean that he believes one thing but feels compelled to behave otherwise.

How refreshingly candid he sounded when, as a candidate, he expressed support for empowering couples to determine how they would plan their families!

His statement was reinforced by the fact that he was the son of Cory Aquino, a virtuous Catholic woman who drew strength from her faith. If Cory's son could go against what his mother held dear, then the matter must be so pressing, so important, and so deserving of notice. Behold...Candidate Courageous!

But when Cebu Archbishop Ricardo Cardinal Vidal took issue with his statement, Aquino offered to fly to Cebu and explain his position. This was either naivete or the first step in a grand, deliberate attempt to play with advocates' positions (both pro- and anti-) and public opinion. Earlier surveys have revelead that most Filipinos, regardless of religion, would prefer to be informed of their options.

When Aquino won the presidential race, and many other issues and crises competed for his attention, reproductive health bill advocates did not feel the need to ask the President to firm up his commitment. In my June 7, 2010 column "Prospects for Reproductive Health," I wrote about my interview with Ramon San Pascual, executive director of the Philippine Legislators' Committee on Population and Development Foundation. San Pascual was optimistic that the new set of leaders in the Executive and the House of Representatives would ensure the passage of the bill. At that time, Aquino was in the process of completing his Cabinet and seemed inclined to retain former Health Secretary Esperanza Cabral, the woman who earned the Church's ire by distributing condoms of Valentine's Day. (He later on appointed Enrique Ona, who supported the measure as well). Then-would-be Speaker Feliciano Belmonte was also known for implementing reproductive health programs when he was mayor of Quezon City.

Then came the threats of excommunication and the whole Padre Damaso controversy. What these incidents yielded were dialogs between the Church and the government. At the onset, the objective of the dialog has been murky because nobody really expected the bishops to budge in their opposition of the bill. Many secretly believed the dialogs were just an effort to buy time for the new administration, who did not wish to alienate the Catholic leaders this early.

Early this year, the President said he would be asking his legal team to craft a "responsible parenthood" bill. He assured Church leaders that it would not be a family planning bill but a poverty-reduction one. A spokesman said they never really supported the RH bill anyway. However, to this day, we have no idea what the fabled RP bill contains, how different or similar it is from the RH bill, or whether an RP bill even exists at all.

Despite these telling signs, reproductive health advocates were again too kind. They did not care whether the measure is called RP or RH. The important thing is that the President endorses such a measure as priority. A few days later, the House committee on population and family relations approved the bill anyway. If there is no irregularity, the bill would be discussed and voted upon in plenary this month.

And then, two weeks ago, the Catholic bishops issued a pastoral statement reiterating their vehement opposition to the RH bill and its "sanitized" name, responsible parenthood. The bishops stopped short of saying they would like to terminate the dialogs with the government.

Now we learned that the RH/RP bill will not be certified urgent in the Legislative Executive Development Advisory Council meeting this month. The Palace says the decision was made out of courtesy to the Catholic Church.

The advocates now say they feel betrayed. Who wouldn't? It would have been better if the President had made it clear from the beginning that he was against the RH bill.

We gave him room to prove he is not some weakling who cannot make tough decisions. As it is, many of us who genuinely believe that such a law would make a difference in the lives of poor, uneducated Filipinos (and that the President is a man of his word) feel we have been taken for a ride – and it's not in either of the Mr. Aquino's fancy new vehicles, either.

Then again, I am a journalist who comments from the relative comfort of my desk at the newsroom. The ones who really matter are the women who run the risk of dying from pregnancy-related problems. There are also desperate women who feel they have no choice but to resort to abortion, killing their children and risking their safety besides. There are children born into abject poverty, without having the means to live with dignity.

I wonder why the President doesn't think these women and children are entitled to some courtesy, as well.

**

Dulaang UP will stage its newest offering, Amphitryon, beginning Wednesday, February 16. The play, written by German dramatist Heinrich von Kleist, was translated into Filipino by Jerry Respeto and Jose Estrella.

Jupiter falls in love with a mortal. He disguises himself as her husband, who has gone to battle. After a night of passion, Jupiter leaves; an hour later, the real husband returns. How can the woman distinguish between the two and assert that she has not been unfaithful?

The play will run until March 6 at the Wilfrido Ma. Guerrero Theater, Paama Hall, UP Diliman. The Dulaan office may be reached at 926-1349, 433-7840 and 981-8500 local 2449.

adellechua@gmail.com

The good auditor

We say courage is not the absence of fear, but action in spite of it.

By these standards, we can say that former government auditor Heidi Mendoza is one courageous woman. She does fear for the safety and psychological well-being of her family, especially her children. Still, she came forward to say that there was strong evidence that supported the government’s plunder case against former General Carlos Garcia, contrary to the line peddled by the Office of the Ombudsman that the evidence was weak.

Mendoza is not your ordinary whistleblower. She was not a losing bidder with an axe to grind. She did not use to be a participant to the rotten system, who only had a recent brush with death and had thus decided to come clean. No, Mendoza had everything to lose and nothing to gain. Indeed she has done the country a great service—but it will be in vain if we do not quite know what to do with her input.

The former employee of the Commission on Audit gave us details on what we had been suspecting, and hearing about all along—that there was a deeply entrenched culture of corruption among top military officers. This has angered many Filipinos, especially lower-ranked soldiers who have to fight on the field and make do with meager salaries. I commend Mendoza for her recent word of caution to our young soldiers, discouraging them from resorting to an uprising and exhorting them ti trust in the system, still.

But that’s for the Armed Forces. The elephant in the room, as Mendoza’s testimony implies, is that corruption in government can easily be spotted if the Commission on Audit is left to do its job without interference or pressure.

***

To be an accountant is to be a storyteller, says a retired auditor who has had experience dealing with public and private entities alike. To be an auditor, on the other hand, is to interpret such a story and evaluate whether it is even plausible. The accountant serves the organization whose story it tells. The auditor serves all the other people who have a stake in that organization.

Further, the auditor—who must be a certified public accountant, whereas an accountant only has to be an accounting graduate—does not certify that the information presented in the books is correct or true. Rather, he or she can only attest that the information is a fair representation of current conditions in the organization.

This auditor, whom I shall call Mr. JC, adds that the recent hearings at the Senate Blue Ribbon Committee remind him so much of his post-Edsa 1 engagements when he and his team looked into some entities that had been sequestered by the Presidential Commission on Good Government.

(The PCGG, of course, has its own sad stories, but it is not our objective to look at them now.)

Mr. JC says that his team’s work on this sequestered company and some of its subsidiaries was part of the report on which the Supreme Court based a decision on the nature of the funds malversed.

At that time, this company was run mostly by well-placed former military officers who instructed their staff to withhold records and refuse to cooperate. They went out of their way to intimidate the external auditors. One day, Mr. JC came to the office and found an official seated cockily at his desk, his feet resting on the table. A 45-caliber gun was conspicuously beside the official’s feet.

The audit team had to resort to creative means to get to the information because the storytellers themselves were not cooperating. They found things that sound familiar even now—unauthorized disbursements, ghost deliveries, extravagant bonuses and excessive perks to officers and directors. He goes on to say that some of these directors remain active and visible in government today.

Actually, auditing government entities should be a piece of cake, Mr. JC volunteers. It is much easier than looking into private corporations. After all, you only have to note where the funds are coming from and how they are being disbursed.

Right. If only these were the only considerations.

***

Last week, Mendoza was in a holding room at the Senate, ready to face the Blue Ribbon Committee for further questioning. She had earlier hinted that some of her former colleagues at the COA were more malleable in performing their jobs. (Former military budget officer George Rabusa had also claimed that some government auditors were being paid off.) As a result, the commission issued a statement flatly denying the accusations.

“We take exception to the doubts raised by [Ms. Heidi Mendoza] on the honesty of her fellow auditors and the credibility of other COA officials. The necessary evidence could not have been unearthed from the mountain of documents by a single individual,” the statement went.

The COA also denied that it rejected Mendoza’s report because in the first place, the team that looked into the Garcia records was an inter-agency one.

Then-COA chief Guillermo Carague signed the order in October 2004 detailing Mendoza to the team that would look into Garcia’s case. Mendoza presumed she was given the job because she was capable and hardworking. However, in 2006 she resigned from the COA because she felt her report was not given support. Her bosses did not want an update on the probe. When she asked them if they wanted a progress report—she knew she was on to something explosive—they simply were not interested. She was even told by a superior to “go easy” on the investigation. Later, Carague reportedly denied, in court, that he had authorized the inter-agency audit.

Smarting from the “laglag”—I cannot find a suitable English translation—Mendoza then decided not to appear in any more hearings and begged the committee to spare her from further implicating people she had worked with.

Mr. JC says he is a personal friend of Carague, having gone to college and reviewed for the CPA exams with him a long time ago. He categorically says that based on his knowledge of his friend, the former chief state auditor (and former budget secretary of the late President Cory Aquino) “is incapable of any wrongdoing.” But in the light of Mendoza’s recent allegations that Carague did not show interest in receiving, much less reading her team’s findings, Mr. JC says that his friend has committed “a serious lapse in judgment.” Alas, such lapses are unforgivable if you head the agency that is supposed to audit government agencies.

Mr. JC says that an audit’s success is largely dependent on three things: the auditor’s competence, audit standards—a set of procedures designed to uncover fraud—and independence. Collusion, however, between the auditor and the client (the entity being audited) AT ANY LEVEL totally negates independence. You may have a competent auditor who observes the strictest standards. But if there is collusion, you can be sure the fraud will remain somebody’s dirty secret.

My source believes that the Commission on Audit must make its reports accessible to the public, possibly through the Internet, because the Filipino people are the stakeholders in government entities. There should be a way for the commission to receive anonymous tips on possible collusion. Finally, a law should be passed that would make government auditors less vulnerable to political influence and better able to resist pressure.

All these would be redeeming factors that would enable these hearings to provide more than entertainment value to Filipinos. As for Ms. Mendoza, her message—that not all Filipinos are corrupt—is both inspiring and enabling. It challenges us to do our part. I have no doubt that she’s sensible enough to stick to her purpose and steer clear of any messianic tendencies, even as she is flanked by politicians who want to ride on her acceptability and hailed by a public desperate for real-life heroes.

adellechua@gmail.com

Women behind the wheel

published 31 Jan 2011, Manila Standard Today

Reacting to a wave of road accidents involving bus drivers earlier this month, the chairman of the Metro Manila Development Authority, Francis Tolentino, floated the idea of hiring female drivers for public utility buses. The argument goes that women—gentler, more responsible—are less prone to drunk driving, ego tripping and road rage.

According to the agency, 260 male drivers figured in fatal road accidents last year while women drivers figured in only 60. In non-fatal road accidents, there were 9,526 men and 3,605 women involved.

Turns out Tolentiono is serious about his idea. “Dead-serious,” as an update on the MMDA Web site describes him, “in trying this women-driver proposal if only to lessen traffic accidents in Metro Manila and reduce traffic congestion caused by reckless and ill-disciplined male drivers.” On banner announcements along Edsa and on www.mmda.gov.ph, the agency invites female drivers to apply with bus companies. Furthermore, the MMDA is contemplating paying for the training of these female drivers and granting incentives—such as exemption from the number-coding scheme —to bus companies who would actually hire them.

Some bus companies have allegedly complained that women would be physically unable to handle big vehicles like passenger buses especially for long hours. Tolentino, however, said: “We should not underestimate what women can do. Provided with sufficient training, they can easily handle these city buses.”

***

But is the premise even correct? Are women, by virtue of their gender, better drivers? What do we mean by “better” anyway—possessing a less aggressive, more risk-averse attitude on the road; being physically skilled to navigate city roads using big public vehicles such as a bus; or finding one’s way around and following rules?

And which stereotype are we talking about? To be honest, this is the first time that I heard about women drivers described as the more sensible ones on the road. (In everyday life, perhaps, but not particularly behind the wheel.) On the contrary, the stereotype I am familiar with is when male drivers snicker at the slow pace or the lack of “diskarte” of the car in front of them. They also have the same reaction upon seeing that a driver cannot park or maneuver well. “Naku, babae pala kasi eh, (Oh, it’s because the driver is a woman)” is the common refrain, usually accompanied by a smirk and some head-shaking.

The fact is, practical observations and scientific studies are mixed.

For instance, the BBC ran a feature in November 2006 on the increasing number of women drivers in Russia. Car ownership had become a status symbol in this country. A driving instructor, however, warned that more women drivers did not necessarily mean safer roads. “They are normally shy; they get scared. They sometimes close their eyes and cannot control their emotions,” said Sergei Talanukhin , to whom the BBC talked.

In January 2008, The Telegraph reported that a research team from Queen Mary University of London found that women and gay subjects exhibited weak navigation and poorer spatial awareness than the male participants. Thus, they are more likely to get lost.

A group of Australian researchers from the University of Queensland also found that calling women lousy drivers may be a self-fulfilling prophesy because “it disrupts their focus and makes them more likely to run over pedestrians,” reported ABC Science in March 2008.

Yet in November 2005, scientists from Bradford University found that the hormone estrogen makes women safer drivers because it improves their attention span and ability to learn rules.

The Automotive Blog (www.automotiveblog.co.uk) quotes transport psychology expert Steve Stradling who maintains that women are more cautious drivers by pointing out what is wrong with men: “Speed feels good, and men tend to be more susceptible to thinking, I’m in a powerful car, the road’s good, lets go.” As a result, they figure in more fatal vehicular accidents.

As early as 1994, psychology student Christine Tomooka of the University of Hawaii explored gender steretypes of women drivers. She found that most people are surprised when a female driver can do reverse and parallel parking with ease.

She cited earlier works that said the sterotypes existed as a way of keeping women “in their place”; that is, in the home, caring for children and cooking meals. Tomooka also said that men were more likely to have a higher self-assessment of their driving skills than women. “Yabang,” in other words.

Another student, Cara Lucey, concluded that females expressed more awareness that their moods and other external sources affected their driving behaviors. None of the male subjects of the same research project expressed the same awareness.

Both Tomooka and Luce were students of Doctor Leon James in Hawaii. James claims that he coined the term “driving psychology” in 1985, the goal of which is “to reverse the natural trend of escalating accidents that occur with a sharp increase in the number of drivers and miles driven. The escalation of accidents, injuries, and their financial cost is a preventable phenomenon, but it requires socio-cultural interventions by government, social agencies, and citizen organizations.”

James says that driving psychology covers five aspects: transportation and automotive engineering; behavioral and health psychology; public education and communications; legislation and law enforcement; and social philosophy and ethics. This means that a host of factors affects an individual’s driving quality. Note that gender is not a primary factor.

Driving psychology is essentially self-witnessing—evaluating one’s capabilities as he or she responds both to external (determined by instruments) and internal (thoughts, feelings, etc.) stimuli. Furthermore, one’s driving quality is a result of the interplay of affective, cognitive, and sensori-motor aspects of a person. Again, nothing about either sex being superior than the other on the self-witnessing process is mentioned.

The studies are, at best, inconclusive. This is why before we can make sweeping generalizations about what a good driver is and whether males or females make better drivers, more research needs to be done. In the meantime, we should not focus on a person’s gender in determining his or her strengths in piloting a big public transport vehicle such as a bus.

***

Using absolute figures, as the MMDA did as mentioned in the third paragraph of this piece, may be problematic. The disparity may simply be due to the fact that there are more male drivers on the road. A better way to drive home the point would be to express the number of male drivers who figured in accidents, fatal and non-fatal, as a percentage of all male drivers who took to the road for a specific period. The same should be done for female drivers. The picture would thus tell us a better, fairer story.

We wonder, too, how many female drivers have been actually encouraged by the agency, and how many bus companies have taken them in. What qualifications are used to evaluate their applications? How are they being trained? These preparatory steps should not be any different from the ones used on male drivers.

So do we need more cautious bus drivers? Yes, absolutely. Do they have to be female? They can be, but not necessarily.

A more enlightened approach would be to encourage skilled, competent and psychologically balanced individuals to apply. Their gender would not determine their chances of getting the job—or keeping it, for that matter. Both male and female applicants are welcome—but only if they pass the same stringent standards designed to gauge their tendencies and minimize accidents on the road.

It would be equally wrong for bus companies, and for the MMDA to encourage them, to hire drivers by virtue of their being female. Getting a job or being preferred to the next applicant just because you are a woman is just as bad as being rejected just because you are not, all things being equal.

In the end, it’s not a gender issue. It’s one of competence and responsibility, both on the part of the driver and of the bus companies that employ them. These issues are more complicated than simplistic generalizations between the sexes.

adellechua@gmail.com