“Society for the Filipino is a small rowboat: the barangay. Geography for the Filipino is a small locality: the barrio. History for the Filipino is a small vague saying: matanda pa kay mahoma; noong peacetime. Enterprise for the Filipino is a small stall: the sari-sari. Industry and production for the Filipino are the small immediate searchings of each day: isang kahig, isang tuka. And commerce for the Filipino is the smallest degree of retail: the tingi.”

“What most astonishes foreigners in the Philippines is that this is a country, perhaps the only one in the world, where people buy and sell one stick of cigarette, half a head of garlic, a dab of pomade, part of the contents of a can or bottle, one single egg, one single banana. To foreigners used to buying things by the carton or the dozen or pound and in the large economy sizes, the exquisite transactions of Philippine tingis cannot but seem Lilliputian. So much effort by so many for so little.”[Nick Joaquin, A Heritage of Smallness]

The quote above is how Nick Joaquin begins his essay The Heritage of Smallness. The essay laments the penchant of the Filipino for smallness. If we look back at our history, it is the small we find: the nipa hut, the barangay, the petty kingship (three different kingdoms around a single Manila Bay! The sultan of Sugbu cannot even get control of nearby Bohol.), miniature artifacts, proverbs (mini dogmas), the short story as crown of our literary efforts, the decentralization in government (once a province becomes too big it becomes two provinces), our political parties keep spinning off and splitting off. More recently, we have the Tamaraw FX phenomenon (a tingi spin-off: pinoys can’t afford the taxi, so they divide the fare among themselves and came up with the FX), and the Smart and Globe e-loads with ridiculous increments of P10, P30, P50, P115.[Sanrokan.Com Website. http://www.sanrokan.com/june23/op_ed_docsimp_tingi.htm]

“The depressing fact in Philippine history is what seems to be our native aversion to the large venture, the big risk, the bold extensive enterprise. The pattern may have been set by the migration. We try to equate the odyssey of the migrating barangays with that of the Pilgrim, Father of America, but a glance of the map suffices to show the differences between the two ventures. One was a voyage across an ocean into an unknown world; the other was a going to and from among neighboring islands. One was a blind leap into space; the other seems, in comparison, a mere crossing of rivers. The nature of the one required organization, a sustained effort, special skills, special tools, the building of large ships. The nature of the other is revealed by its vehicle, the barangay, which is a small rowboat, not a seafaring vessel designed for long distances on the avenues of the ocean.” [Joaquin, Ibid.]

Because of this, Australia, which is just around the corner, was conquered not by the race next door, but by migrants from across two oceans—from the other side of the world. In matters of governance, the decentralization in government is always justified as empowerment of the local government, and the difficulty of administration of a huge geographical territory. Empowerment is in fact a valid explanation for this, but we do not hear of the same excuse of administrative difficulty by territories so much bigger than our own, like Texas for example.

It seems as if we do not feel adequate when things become bigger. We do not feel up to the challenge. We are intimidated by sustained, prolonged effort. We are ningas cogon: we begin with great energy but cannot sustain it.

Our artifacts confirm this observation:

“First: the Filipino works best on small scale–tiny figurines, small pots, filigree work in gold or silver, decorative arabesques. The deduction here is that we feel adequate to the challenge of the small, but are cowed by the challenge of the big.

Second: the Filipino chooses to work in soft easy materials–clay, molten metal, tree. Searching has failed to turn up anything really monumental in hardstone. Even carabao horn, an obvious material for native craftsmen, has not been used to any extent remotely comparable to the use of ivory in the ivory countries. The deduction here is that we feel equal to the materials that yield but evade the challenge of materials that resist.

Third: having mastered a material, craft or product, we tend to rut in it and don’t move on to a next phase, a larger development, based on what we have learned. In fact, we instantly lay down even what mastery we already posses when confronted by a challenge from outside of something more masterly, instead of being provoked to develop by the threat of competition. Faced by the challenge of Chinese porcelain, the native art of pottery simply declined, though porcelain should have been the next phase for our pottery makers. There was apparently no effort to steal and master the arts of the Chinese. The excuse offered here that we did not have the materials for the techniques for the making of porcelain–unites in glum brotherhood yesterday’s pottery makers and today’s would be industrialists. The native pot got buried by Chinese porcelain as Philippine tobacco is still being buried by the blue seal.” [Joaquin, Ibid.]

What Nick Joaquin talks about as the heritage of smallness echoes what Jim Paredes mentioned in his lecture at the Ateneo several years ago as the Filipino cultural insecurity. Mr. Paredes rues the fact that in order to make it big outside the country, Filipinos have to erase their Filipino-ness and “mimic” other cultures: talk with an accent, speak with a twang, sing in other languages. Not like, say, the Brazilians who proudly (even adamantly) offer Brazilian music to the world (think Jobim and Astrud Gilberto). We talk of Filipinos beating foreigners (usually Americans) “at their own game”. The problem with this is that it is still “their own game” that we are playing in and developing.

No development and advertisement happens about our culture. And we do not add anything to the world cultural gene pool because we provide hardware (manpower, labor) and not software (culture). Of course, this discussion of cultural insecurity needs to be nuanced, but Mr. Paredes does make a valid—if depressing– point. In the American Idol contest several years ago for example, there were two contestants hailed as Filipino-Americans. For several weeks in the two major newspapers in the Philippines–Philippine Daily Inquirer and the Philippine Star–these two (Camile Velasco of Haiku, Maui and Jasmine Trias of Mililani, Hawaii) were featured, praised, congratulated and hyped for being Filipinas and, yeah, beating the competition at their own game (the show’s title is “American Idol” after all). But if you look back at the interviews of the two, they never mention anything about their being Filipinos. They want to put Hawaii in the map—not the Philippines. They teach the hula dance to the other contestants. And we hype it because here are two “Filipinas” making it big in Hollywood.

Only Filipinos know that there are actually Filipinos making it big in Hollywood (Tia Carrere, Rob Schneider, and Lou Diamond Philips for example). Americans do not know, and probably do not care—Jasmine and Camile (as well as Rob, Tia and Lou) are American citizens after all. It is like saying, “well, if you’re so good, why did they have to leave your country?”

On the other hand – some nuancing of the above is in order. The Japanese for example, are also fond of the small: ikebana, bonsai, windows and dividers made of paper, hello kitty, are kawaii (i.e. cute); but they are a prosperous country. They also do not have the same cultural insecurity as we manifest it. Is it the sensibility of the economic (tingi) then that produces the culture (insecurity), or is it the culture (“smallness”) that produces the economy? It also has to be pointed out how “the Philippines” is a relatively new sensibility—the idea of a unified country was borne only during the Revolution of 1898.

Mahmoud Dhaouadi pointed out that there is an implicit, and sometimes explicit tendency to view the culture (values, traditions, religion, etc.) of Third World countries as largely obstacles to the development/modernization process in these countries. Thus the Capitalist West sees itself not as a dialogue partner in the eventual dialogue of cultures that an economic transaction includes, but as a “savior”—giving off Western cultural values into these Third World countries—leading to the underdevelopment of the cultures of these countries. [Mahmoud Dhaouadi, Capitalism, Global Humane Development and the Other Underdevelopment]

Knowing all these, how will globalization affect our people and our culture? To borrow a term from Hollywood, are we going to get lost in the translation? Or will a new “Filipino” emerge from this synthesis of local and global culture?

We do not have to look far to see globalization’s hand in Philippine market and many things Filipino. Our malls and shopping centers—our modern versions of the town plaza—have foreign boutiques carrying foreign brands in it. If you go to Greenbelt 5 for example, the big name brands–the Louis Vuittons, and ______, are all there. Only about ten perscent of our cable channels in television are Filipino channels—the rest are foreign.

When we see how tingi (something economic) can in fact be correlated to the cultural penchant for smallness, we then see how the changing face of the economic battleground with the coming of bigger players can in fact alter the cultural sensibility of the Filipino. Felix Lao points out several factors that need to be taken into consideration:

1) Deteriorating purchasing power of the peso. There is instability of the foreign exchange rate (now at about P45 to a dollar, but let’s see how it’ll be a week from now), increases in the prices of fuel and other derivatives and the chain of price increases that follows on basic commodities, essential items and services. There may be people in the malls for example, but are they buying? The volume of purchases are much smaller than before.

2) Changes in consumption patterns. People from all walks of life buy cellphone cards, pirated cds, dvds and vcds (at P30-P80 each), Wag-Wag and Ukay-Ukay stores also proliferate. Businesses like these contribute to the micro-economy and survive economic crises.

3) Demographic Shifts. The migration from the inner cities to the suburbs. Many SM Outlets are situated along airports. Henry Sy has put up the biggest mall in Asia at a reclamation bay area relatively far away from key cities. He plans to sell an “Experience” rather than an “Assortment,” harping on tourism, entertainment and leisure for the target consumers to travel the extra mile not for simply the joy of shopping but rather “sightseeing”, “fun & play” “enjoyment” “relaxation” for the entire family and community to indulge beyond buying goods and services.[Felix M. Lao,Jr. Markethink, Manila Times Website]

With the above, there seems to be a surprising trend in our “take” of the global challenge to our markets (and eventually our culture): we are still patronizing micro-retail; multi-nationals (at least the record labels) are not really making money out of us (we patronize pirated goods instead of the originals), and we can actually go to the malls without buying anything.

Our “unpaid” TV (the local channels) is a fusion of foreign and Filipino (as well as “Filipinized” foreign) influence: there is a proliferation of reality tv shows (imitating those in the cable channels CBS and Fox), noon-time tv viewing is at its peak (with variety shows showing sexy gyrating women, games with millions in prizes at stake, a gimik of free electronic load, etc.), Filipino telenovelas are on the rise, Asian novellas are tagalized (i.e. re-dubbed in Filipino). The resurgence of the Philippine Basketball Association (PBA)—the country’s premier basketball league– was an effect of the hype given to the rookies who came in this year (many of whom are homegrown talents and not just fil-americans).

So that to say that we will get lost in translation with the coming of foreign influence through globalization may be exaggerating a bit. What is becoming clear now—at least in our media and in the retail economy level– is a movement towards a Filipinization of what is foreign: tagalization of foreign telenovelas, Filipino versions of the star-search like Pinoy Idol for example, etc. Of course, we can nuance this by saying that we are just imitating foreign formulae, and imitation is another sure sign of insecurity. But the point has to be made: we are not just giving up to foreign influence too easily as some would like us to believe. And it can be argued from another perspective: we are not just imitating, we are re-creating, we are translating—which is about creativity and re-creativity. And every work of translation is a work of inculturation—both the “text” (what is being translated) and the translator are changed in the exchange.

Looking back at our own history, we see experiences of the “Filipino” rising up to a cultural challenge. Nick Joaquin mentions three: 1) the defense of the land during two centuries of siege by the Dutch; 2) the Propaganda Movement; and 3) the Revolution.

“The War with the Dutch is the most under-rated event in our history, for it was the Great War in our history. It had to be pointed out that the Philippines, a small colony practically abandoned to itself, held at bay for half a century the mightiest naval power in the world at the time. The Dutch sent armada after armada, year after year, to conquer the colony, and cut off the galleons that were its links with America, [to try to] starve the colony to its knees…”
“The Propaganda, which began as a Creole campaign against the Peninsulars, would turn into the nationalist movement of Rizal and Del Pilar. This second epic act in our history seemed a further annulment of timidity. A man like Rizal was a deliberate rebel against the cult of the small; he was so various a magus because he was set on proving that the Filipino could tackle the big thing, the complex job. His novels have epic intentions; his poems sustain the long line and go against Garcia Villa’s more characteristically Philippine dictum that poetry is the small intense line.”

“The Revolution, specially the one in Cavite, was an army with officers, engineers, trenches, plans of battle and a complex organization - a Revolution unlike all the little uprisings or mere raids of the past because it had risen above tribe and saw itself as the national destiny.”

And so it is possible. Our heritage of smallness is not without its heroic exceptions. But in a world where enemies are not as clear-cut as the Dutch and the Spanish Government; where economic power, rather than military colonialism is the vehicle of cultural hegemony; things become a little more complicated and un-clear. Dialogue and fusion become key words in the transaction.

This is because not everything that foreigners have to offer is necessarily “colonial” and therefore evil. Bayani Fernando, when he was mayor of Marikina, brought his city council to Singapore to look at “what we do not have”. This is part of the Marikina government “folklore”. The model of Marikina—in governance, infrastructure, and engineering—is Singapore. And Marikina today is one of the most well-developed and well-governed cities in the country. We have to look for examples and models that will help us improve—and sometimes we need to look outside the country for these examples and models of improvement.

Globalization is seen as a threat precisely because of the ambiguous nature of its effects on economy, culture, values and world hegemony. There are [debatably] good effects and [debatably] bad effects to the transaction. As with many things human, the effects are seen and judged belatedly and in hindsight.

So that all the more in this world of dialogue and fusion, there is that great challenge to know thyself in order to have that vantage point of seeing the effects of globalization. A people has to have someone holding up a mirror to itself, in order to discern among ambiguous effects and in order not to take everything hook-line-and-sinker.

Of course the challenge to know thyself also has that added dimension of being a willing, important, helpful and empowered dialogue partner. No dialogue happens if one purported dialogue member does not have any identity to offer. No fusion happens if one doesn’t have anything to offer in the blend. And the dialogue partner will “bulldoze” our culture if we do not step up and offer anything in exchange.

This is where the challenge to the Filipino lies. The forming of cultural symbols is a crucial first step in this whole endeavor of knowing thyself. Once cultural symbols are formed, then security (rather than insecurity) in the symbols can be gained. Easier said than done of course, but not impossible. Symbols like the jeepney, our food, our religion, EDSA, and debatably, our Filipinization of foreign products are things we can offer the world.

I would end with a more hopeful, albeit challenging note:

“A change of nationality or residence cannot change our soul. Ironically, the worst slur we hear about being a Filipino comes from Filipinos themselves. Successful Filipinos abroad pay little tribute to their being Filipinos. But their success belies all notion that the Filipino is inferior or even barbaric. Perhaps, the Filipino only needs to see himself in a better light. Instead of being shaped by what he sees or hears, he should shape the events of his life. Just like anyone else, we both have a capacity for greatness or smallness. The choice is ours to make.” [Philippines Today: Online Edition, Editorial: A Choice for Greatness or Smallness, http://www.philippinestoday.net/July2001/editorial701.htm]