I was having this conversation, I forget with who, about how wretched things are in the Philippines. How things seem so doomed. And a lot of that has been said, written and declared by columnists, bloggers and politicians.
I zeroed in on a word I often come across: rape. The grisly act of rape is often used to encapsulate the systematic plunder, destruction and mistrust that has led to the country's horrible state. Rape seethes to the bone, corrupting the morality with a dark evil, and leaving victims twisted with rare sight of full recovery.
Now, that's a bit of a misnomer. Rape -- or the sense of it being most alluded to -- is an often violent and traumatizing non-consensual act, usually involving a struggle and a weapon to subdue the victim. It is not isolated to strangers, as what evil might be lurking in the dark would suggest, rather it is sometimes perpetuated by a known assailant. A friend, an ex-lover, or even a spouse.
Extrapolating this definition to "the rape of the Philippines" is , however, incomplete. I believe it really should be "the date rape of the Philippines." Yes, what starts out as romance ends as one gruesome night to remember.
First, with date rape, there's a drug involved: it could be jueteng, a basketball court, a new city hall, or grease money for a vote. These are not complicated chemical substances; they are in fact, the simplest forms of flattery, or the vaguest yet sweetest-sounding campaign promise, or the glisten in the candidate's eye, or even the unforgettable "Spaghetti" number.
Now, before I get ahead of myself, it should be said that date rape happens 100% of the time between two people who know each other (or have at least met), and trust, or at least a modicum of it, has already been exchanged, to the point of taking a sip of the lined beverage. That is indeed a fit metaphor for how those who "rape the Philippines" are often those we thought we could initially trust.
This metaphor becomes more apt when we struggle with trying to determine, in a collective sigh of national consciousness, how the f*ck do we keep getting screwed this way; it's the drug, dammit.
There's an even bigger issue. With date rape, victims often wake up not remembering anything, but knowing something bad happened (see torn clothes, painful abdomen). There's yet another perfect analogy: the country wakes up with this overwhelming feeling that we know we got screwed, we just don't know who.
To be fair, the last two dates, well, we got 'em. It's as clear as a DNA test and hefty doses of Luminol. Erap, that monster, is in jail. Gloria, however, is still in office. We're still dating her, sorta. And that makes me sick.
What scares me more is the fact that we seem to not care, as if we're getting numb from all the abuse. Students, who used to be the vanguard of fairness, justice and democracy, have retreated to their computer games and their cellphones. Young, promising politicians sellout as soon as they smell the money. Vast numbers are leaving the country.
Rape is a such a solitary offense, one where the victim is so desperately isolated it paralyzes their courage to come forward and seek justice. Some might say we're so thick-skulled to have been victimized again. Nevertheless, as the date rape of the Philippines continues, there is only one who can deliver the country from its oppressor: the country itself.
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