A hard rain is about to fall

The NEVER AGAIN contingent was the last to join the procession towards Madison Square Park, an attempt by the organizers to downplay the protest the marchers were only too willing to voice. (Photo: Zack Garlitos)

NEW YORK—It was a glorious spring day, the weather being all smiles. Seasonably warm, not at all humid. Perfect for a parade, with no hint of rain.  And so the air was festive the Sunday of June 5^th at the annual parade to celebrate Philippine independence, though the actual anniversary date is June 12^th.

There were the usual floats, various associations, regional and provincial groups, dancers, a motley crew of community figures and local politicians. After a hiatus of two years due to the pandemic, people were glad to be back on the streets, though on this occasion for widely differing reasons.

The contingent I was with, gathered under the heading of NEVER AGAIN, was composed mostly of different organizations opposed to the incoming administration of BongBong Marcos and Sara Duterte.  Others including a few non-Filipinos joined in who may not have been affiliated with any of the groups but were in complete sympathy with the aim and tenor of the contingent. It was a great mix of students, scholars, artists, academics, professionals—activists of all ages. One elderly woman walked with a cane, distributing snacks.  A younger woman stylishly dressed in the traditional terno and twirling a Japanese-style parasol stood at the head, our very own symbol of Lady Liberty.

The NEVER AGAIN contingent was the last to join the procession towards Madison Square Park, an attempt by the organizers to downplay the protest the marchers were only too willing to voice. Apparently, the former aren’t familiar with the saying, “The first shall be the last, and the last shall be the first.” By bringing up the tail-end of the march, NEVER AGAIN was the parade’s dramatic finale, the rousing climax providing a measure of catharsis not just to the marchers themselves but also, judging from the many cheers and fists raised along the sidewalks, to the onlookers.

Positioned right in front of us was the Bagong Lipunan contingent, clearly indicative of the members’ pro-Marcos sympathies—Bagong Lipunan, or New Society, being the hallmark slogan of the Marcos martial-law regime. Some of us remarked aloud that Bagong Lipunan should have been spelled Bahong Lipunan, or Stinky Society. One of their signs read “31+ M Trolls,” what could only have been a boastful reference to the disinformation campaign waged by the Marcos-Duterte team but apparently with no understanding, and thus absent a sense of irony, that “troll” is a pejorative term. In the vocabulary of the Internet, a troll doesn’t refer to a Nordic mythical being but to someone who uses social media to post disinformation, character assassination and other similarly incendiary messages in order to manipulate public perceptions favorable to their candidate.

The nearly avenue-wide black-and-white banner carried by the marchers in front proclaimed for all to see, “Reject Marcos-Duterte! Continue the Fight for Genuine Democracy!” substituted later on for  “Never Again! Continue the Fight for Genuine Democracy!” Just behind the frontline, people held up placards, each with a portrait of a victim either of the Marcos regime or of the Dutertean war on drugs and human rights, ranging from Fr. Tulio Favali, an Italian missionary priest murdered by vigilantes in 1985, to Baby River Nasino, a three-month-old girl, born to Reina Mae, a human rights activist and political prisoner, and taken away when  barely a month old, subsequently dying in October 2020 due to acute respiratory distress syndrome.

As the NEVER AGAIN contingent roared its way down Madison Avenue, the parade marshals up ahead would turn around with what seemed looks of concern, that we were the rain coming down on their parade, unmindful of the fact that it was our parade as well. A parade meant to mark the time when a colony became a republic and at least on the face of it a democracy.

One of the marshals, clad in a Barong Tagalog and presumably the chief, strode back to where our lines were to speak to the organizers, his brow knitted, and heatedly demanding that our contingent tone down its messaging. Was he unaware or deliberately ignoring one of the fundamentals of a genuine democracy, free speech? When asked this, his response was “Yes, but …” Shouts went up, repeatedly: “Let Us March!?  The man beat a hasty retreat. He returned not too long after, once again to demand that we play nice, and once again he had to retreat, presumably to face a dressing down from his higher ups as to why he failed to put a damper on this exercise of a most fundamental right in a free society.

By the time the NEVER AGAINers reached the grandstand where the PIDC and Consulate’s pooh-bahs were seated, the contingent tarried a bit to emphasize its message. This time around, a woman from the grandstand, her brow similarly knitted, asked us to please move on. She was a bit more respectful than the previous messenger, but unsuccessful nevertheless.

On the streets of New York last Sunday, judging by the pained look on their faces one can only surmise that the true meaning of democracy was lost to the parade organizers. Their actuations spoke volumes, that to them form is all, never mind the lack of substance. We thus expect that worse is in store. Already, protests during BBM’s presidential inauguration on June 30 are being discouraged, with not too subtle hints of a crackdown. He will hold it at the National Museum, formerly the Legislative Building where the late dictator delivered his fifth State of the Nation Address on January 26, 1970 after winning re-election in the 1969 elections. On that day, a massive protest was staged right outside, causing the cops and military escort to respond violently. BBM’s team is making sure that that scenario won’t be repeated. The colossal irony is that by doing so they are in fact repeating history, and a whole nation will suffer for it.

Copyright L.H. Francia 2022