Interestingly enough, where the two subject matters are concerned—nation and culture—boundaries matter and where they matter, that is where giant minds also matter. These giant minds or mindset ready to grapple with many things bigger than islands and heritage and colonialism are what made the conference, for some strange reasons, work. These are not the regular mentalities or perspectives we are used to seeing or encountering each day. I think many of us have resigned to the impression that topics like nation and culture do not possess the urgency that other topics—like constitutional change, or gatherings that purport to assess economic indicators of selected communities—are seen to possess. In other words, we have consigned our devotion to small matters, the reverence for the quotidian, the worship of the minute, the palpable every day.
We have chickened out of the mighty question about our very own nation and our very own cultures. We have assumed the legalistic nature of ourselves as a people, legally bound by the document of an institution that states we are one, indivisible, under one God and one flag. The pondering is seen as just too mighty for us, a small nation, and yet still a nation.
That which we have avoided for long was thus confronted by a convener who is noted for speaking out and speaking out big, F. Sionil Jose, National Artist for Literature. It is the kind of conference that can only be marshaled by someone like F. Sionil Jose, the writer whose novels of epic sweep took note of how small the minds of our intellectuals and cultural leaders have become. For those who know the writer and the man, he is given to big and grand statements and his position has always been “leave it or love it.” The conference owed much to F. Sionil Jose its unabashed grandeur and objectives.
As a public anthropologist who holds on to collective but highly demarcated focus of analysis, my reaction was, initially, to doubt the feasibility of the gathering. I anticipated conflicts of the first magnitude. I was looking to witnessing a messy affair where everyone was an expert. The day came and what I saw was a gathering of thinkers and workers who, given their enthusiasm, missed having that kind of assembly.
The letter of invite limited the number of participants to 150 writers, academics, artists and cultural workers. Of course, the number of those eager to work on and write about the ideas of nationhood, nationality and cultures, would go beyond that number. But a number is always an engaging symbol of a mighty collective, divided and collapsible the grouping may be.
It was also stated in the program that the presentation would be brief. Most of the speakers actually stuck to the agreement of brevity and directness that, in the open forum, our propensity not to ask questions but to offer statements made it appear that there was another segment of presentation happening on the floor. Some of those “asking” questions and making “clarifications” exceeded even the shortest presentation on stage. But it did not matter. One felt that everyone was keyed to all kinds of persuasion being made public. It appeared that most of those in the gathering had never witnessed such a grand and great rethinking happening before them.
The papers being brief contributed to a production of discourses that formed a thread of positions that did make sense. It did not matter if the positions and perspectives were varied; it was the quality of disparateness that gave hope to the convocation. If it were a conclave, the notion of tongues of fire did not only apply but also made meaning. If the gathering succeeded it must be because majority of those who were there were engaging themselves to agree to disagree. I have not been to any conference where a discussion on nation and culture, however easily monolithic, were also giving attention to multiculturalism, revisiting even the problematic aspects of national identity and ethnicity.
The conference was divided into four sessions: On Arts and Culture; On Culture and Society; On Media/Education, the New Communication Technologies; and On Culture and State. And yet, the talks were all directed to understanding ourselves as peoples and as cultures, that the boundaries were all banished as the conference moved through the day. Charlson Ong, writer, entitled his talk “Sensing the Nation.” In his paper, Ong took off from the much quoted concept of a “damaged culture” but he did not linger there. He pointed to the growth of the nation as the growing nation: “A nation is never made, never done, it is always becoming.” He also refers to nation as “memory”: “The memory of loved ones, of want and desire. Memory sharpened always by distance, by longing.” If memory was there, then there was the Filipino diaspora, of nation being created or extended somewhere.
Ong’s idea is interesting because now social scientists are reverting to the notion of culture as not only material but one that can be apprehended by the senses, a culture that can be sensed.
Bai Salam Ibrahim from Mindanao spoke of the hope that artists can “contribute even more to their community through teaching, mentoring, sharing and remaining open to collaboration.” This position is unique coming from a young cultural worker from a place that had always been painted as the pristine, isolated, untouched culture.
Lito Zulueta, writer and fellow Manunuri, posited a challenge about having cultural development in a world full of conflicts and violence. Zulueta asked that we “think of billions of taxpayer’s money poured across four decades on an insurgency that has not shown signs of abating.” He asked us to “imagine the Filipino taxpayer as that poor boy in Samar, caught between the crossfire....” He asked us to “imagine that and weep.”
Gilbert Teodoro, even with his caveat about not being part of the cultural literati, brought back keenly the oft-forgotten classic role of the State in nation- and culture-building. He reminded the assembly how “the state and its institutions are the most important bodies that have a direct influence on culture.”
Fr. Jose C. Arcilla, S.J., re-read the works of Rizal and revisited the plight of Sisa and her rage against reality. Sisa decided that she would not dream anymore. Sisa, for the Jesuit priest, stood for all Filipinos who have stopped dreaming.
Ramon C. Sunico celebrated the discussions and disagreements when it comes to culture, “whether in upper or lowercase letters.” The usual agreement is that disagreement is not fruitful but for Sunico, the disputes give the individual “a new fulcrum from which to assess his position, a new light, if you prefer, and allow a reevaluation of one’s position.” Sunico, however, qualified that contestations are always complex.
In what I see as a fitting summary of what transpired that third day of December, I quote Sunico who said: “As we keep alert as to what type of discussions we are pursuing, we can put art and culture on the table while appreciating the controversy and disruptiveness that accompany these in many cases and not only enjoy the sparks that fly. After all, art and culture provide us not only heat but also light.”
