When Cynicism becomes Cataclysm
Throughout my four college years, the Ateneo de Manila Student Government (or the Sanggunian) has experienced recurring problems: the perceived question of irrelevance, weak delineations and unclear ideological grounds of political parties, an absence of politicization, and more often than not, a cynical electorate, marked with more or less a quarter of the student population waiving—whether in conscience or in ignorance—their right to vote, and an evasive constituency marked with an aversion to involvement and participation from the grassroots.
The general pattern in interpreting actions by the Sanggunian is one buffeted by what I wish to call “cataclysms of cynicism,” with reactions ranging from a radical opposition to the essence of a student government (a question of identity), to the lack of hope on the actions of the student government despite possible efforts (a question of relevance), and even an attack to the legitimacy of the electorate and the depth of their reception (a question of legitimacy). The cynicism is characterized by an instinctive retort of doubt, with version-permutations of the above questions toward any particular action the government takes.
There is great value in this cynicism—it is necessary and dare I may say, noble in the plurality of opinions instrumental in any democratic institution. This Cartesian attitude is in fact one of the necessary forces that affected the democratic movement, especially in the effective building of democratic institutions, for what is it but doubt and its derivatives that clear up the space of what does not work or what is evil, for the tighter, more honest processes to take over?
But the cynicism becomes a cataclysm if it is not aided with a disposition that is open to listening, if the response of cynicism is not brought towards the hallowed platforms of discourse that are supposed to answer these preliminary doubts; if these questions remain unasked, or any equivalent to being unasked. The cynicism becomes a cataclysm—a disaster, a catastrophe—in light of the paralyzing, frivolous and unfounded assumption that the government is not open to dialogue or will not be able to give any commensurate form of solution to these doubts. The cynicism becomes a cataclysm if the government isn’t given that political space—that is mental, institutional and physical—to prove itself capable or trustworthy of leading its constituents.
Paralysis is the result of this cataclysm, and it is caused by a hermeneutical circle of doubt, that more often than not is trapped on the level of perception. And as in Ricoeur, the sides happen simultaneously: constituents feel they are not given the chance to speak, the government is not given a chance to prove itself, the government feels the constituents do not trust them, the government fails to listen (and possibly develops a sense of entitlement to the position in the non-recognition of opinions). The cataclysm of cynicism destroys the space that politics necessarily operates.
My personal pain in this cataclysm of cynicism in the university-level is that it tragically approximates how majority of Filipinos are often very evasive in their political engagements in the national level, deeming politics irreversibly spurned with corruption hence lacking any relevant value; this politics is hopeless. But precisely, quoting Raneses, it is in fact the lack of politics that causes this thinking, because political credence lies solely in genuine discourse that is essentially a desire to “listen-speak,” that is inherently a single movement. Evading the entire discursive process is making oneself apolitical.
As people are trapped in the level of unfounded assumptions about government-constituent, things are literally destroyed. And the tragedy is that nothing constructive can be done about it because the cataclysm ravages and uproots any sprout of effort either side makes—from efforts of meetings, to genuine political representation through legislation, to the execution of projects. This is all because of paralysis, the lack of any genuine engagement.
Active Trust versus the Benefit of the Doubt
The solution to this cataclysm of cynicism is an active trust. And this trust is not simply giving either side the benefit of the doubt (a passive trust), but an active listening and giving of space. Political space is not made by mere receptivity, but it is “made,” an active verb. It is in being patient with administrative processes and bureaucratic limitations, being persevering in participating in these discourse, in voting. It is in these premises that I say that Sanggu is far from being useless or irrelevant—it is most of the time simply unrecognized and not listened to.
Especially in a position as official COA representative where I experience a creative friction of seeing both the reactions of Sanggu officers and regular org members, I can say that constituents simply have not given their government enough political space. (And it is in the second part of this reflection that I shall outline several reasons and implications for this statement, culminating in my vision as a constituent of the Sanggunian—my hopes in, for and with the Sanggunian.)
I argue that the critical difference with the Sanggunian that is often taken for granted by Ateneo constituents is that this student government genuinely desires to listen; and it is in the hands of the constituents if they wish to speak and to listen. Throughout my four years, I’ve seen the institution rebound from a beleaguered institution with bureaucratic holes (as in the lack of transition and systems losses), to a Sanggu that aimed to rebuild and re-institutionalize the systems for the future (Castañar and Tingson administration), to an effective representative body with genuine participative and consultative systems (Roque and Copuyoc administrations).
From Task Force Ondoy, to Task Force 2010 to the Carper mobilization to the Grand Consultation, from the effective administration of committee meetings, to tireless lobbying in administrative committees and tighter fiscal processes and budget representations, from the medium-term planning for a three to five year Sanggu development plan, to the painstaking task of updating the 2005 Constitution, from the formation of a Sanggu–COA thrust to the establishment of Lions and committees, I have seen a Sanggu that has improved significantly. It is a Sanggu that isn’t perfect and requires a lot of work, but a Sanggu that actively tries to give political spaces for its constituents.
The questions of identity, irrelevance, legitimacy of political institutions, hence, may be a reflection of a constituency that has lacked in or failed to actively listen.
The result of my disposition to listening, just to cite one example, is seeing that political party disbandments are beyond the short-term signal of disarray, but a long-term signal of political hope and vitality—given the emergence of new coalitions and unions and the recruitment of new political officers with more grounded political ideology, coupled with the reforms currently being done with Comelec in the electoral process, and the Student Judicial Court in auditing, and the founded institutional relationships with sectoral councils COA and ARSA.
Politics is reborn in the Ateneo. And only if we give it that political space to be nurtured, and protect the sprouts from being uprooted by the cataclysms of cynicism, will politics ever mature in our beloved university.
Ken Abante is the President of the Council of Organizations of the Ateneo. He is currently a senior majoring in management engineering, with a minor in philosophy.
