Building the national

Published February 16, 2010 1:42pm

By BUTCH DALISAY

I’m in Cebu as I write is, attending the second edition of Taboan, the Philippine International Writers Festival which was first held
in Manila at about this same time last year, February being National Arts Month.

Taboan will be making the rounds of the regions from year to year before returning to Manila, so this moveable feast (poet and
NCCA commissioner Ricky de Ungria beat me to the metaphor) will see many places yet.

The Arts Council of Cebu under the very gracious festival director Mayen Tan and presidenta Petite Garcia is in charge of Taboan
’10, a project of the Committee on Literary Arts of the National Commission for Culture and the Arts (NCCA).

The festival got off to a lively start with a keynote sSpeech by Cebu’s own Dr. Resil Mojares — a formidable, internationally
recognized scholar of Philippine literature, history, and society — who chose a deliberately provocative subject and title for his
talk: “Will Magdalena Jalandoni Ever Be a National Artist?”

For those who don’t know Jalandoni (and — perhaps to prove Resil’s point — 99.99 percent of us don’t), the Iloilo-born
Jalandoni (1891-1978) was a prolific writer in Hiligaynon of fiction, poems, and plays, her novels alone totaling an astounding 36.

Resil made it clear that he wasn’t making a brief for Jalandoni’s selection as a National Artist; with typical scholarly modesty, he
said that he simply didn’t know her work well enough to make that judgment.

Rather, he was using Jalandoni’s case to draw attention to the gross disadvantage at which Filipino writers working in languages
other than English and Filipino lie, particularly when it comes to recognition on a national or international level.

While they may have achieved much in their own literature in, say, Cebuano, Bikol, or Hiligaynon, they remain obscure
elsewhere, because their work has been little translated, little critically reviewed, and therefore little seriously considered for
national or international awards.

Jalandoni is hardly alone in this predicament; the Philippine literary landscape is littered with the skeletons of mute inglorious
Miltons whom most Filipinos will have never heard of, much less read.

Critiquing the NA selection process — of which he himself was occasionally a part, one of the expert “peers” who sift through
the nominees at the first level — Mojares noted that “In the discussion of the nominees of Jalandoni last year, all the 10 or 12
members of the ‘Council of Elders’ (except perhaps for one or two) had not read Jalandoni’s works, either due to language,
unavailability of texts or translations, or simply because Jalandoni did not fall within their area of expertise.

This has been the problem in the three or four times in which she was nominated.

“This is abetted by a procedural constraint. Because of confidentiality rules, members of the Council of Experts know who the
candidates are only on the day of deliberation itself. Hence, they have no time to prepare for the deliberations by way of
reading, research, or consultations with those knowledgeable about particular candidates. Although brief research reports are
prepared by the Secretariat for reference by Council members, these reports are made available only on the day of the
deliberation and are not of much help.”

Again, Resil was really much less concerned about awards than by the inequality (and, therefore, the injustice) of popular
perceptions.

“The politics of national recognition” he went on to say, “is such that it matters where you are read, in what language, and by
whom.

Someone who publishes in Hiligaynon (or Cebuano, Waray, or Iluko) in a periodical with a circulation of 50,000 is a ‘regional
writer.’

A writer in Manila who publishes a 500-copy of English poems is a ‘national writer.’” (Interestingly enough, we’re holding our
sessions at the Casino Español de Cebu, a social and architectural tribute to a language we’ve almost entirely lost, literarily.)

The marginalization of writing from the regions has been a long-festering sore in the body of Philippine cultural politics, and
Taboan’s discussions following Resil’s speech revived some of those familiar issues.

To the Antique-born poet and playwright John Iremil Teodoro, the common practice of denoting any writing outside Manila as
“regional” literature merely reinforced “Manila-centrism,” according, by implication, a superior quality to products coming out
of the capital.

However, to Carlo Arejola from Bicol, the regional badge was a challenge rather than a hindrance.

“You don’t need to look to Manila for approval or affirmation,” Carlo said. “You can create a readership among yourselves. We
created our own awards, our own workshop.”

Indeed, as other delegates and Resil himself echoed, the question to ask was “What can the regions do for themselves?”

I offered the opinion that, while some form of affirmative action or intervention may be required to level the playing field,
there’s a point at which the national/regional or national/local dichotomy becomes patronizing and ultimately more destructive
than constructive.

It’s not as if a Cebuano writer can or will only think of Cebuano, and not national or global, ideas; one’s local roots and
experiences may provide strong, unique material, but that’s still only raw material, yet to be refined.

And the world out there couldn’t care less: it doesn’t see us as Tagalog, Iluko, or Bikol writers — we’re just all Filipino writers,
period, and perhaps we should think as such.

Resil Mojares’ conclusion put it succinctly: “The greater challenge lies outside the awards. We need to address inequalities in
conditions of literary and cultural production by investing more heavily (by the regions themselves ad not just Manila) in more
effective and strategic initiatives in scholarship, literary education, translation, publishing, dissemination, and promotion. We
need to build the national in the National [Artist] Awards.”

I’ve always suspected that a great work will manifest that greatness in whatever language it’s written in or translated into. (Of
course, you need to have that translation first.) Apparently, I’m not the only one who thinks so.

Clearly, before we can begin recognizing good and great Filipino writers from all parts of the country, we should lay the critical
groundwork and first develop and support translators and critics who can give literary judges a fairer basis for their evaluations.

Curious about how the Nobel Prize committee in charge of literature managed to choose a laureate from hundreds of nominees
writing in a dozen languages, I Googled the subject and discovered the following exchange at nobelprize.org between Professor
Horace Engdahl, Permanent Secretary of the Swedish Academy, and a reader who sent in the same question I had in mind.

Question: Are Nobel Prizes in literature based on the assessment of the writings in its original language, translations, or both? If
assessed in the original language, how does one remove nationalistic interests, if any, from the nomination process? Unlike physics,
chemistry, etc., where the symbolism/equations/conventions are clearly agreed upon globally, I would imagine that language and its
interpretation would pose an additional challenge.

Answer: Whenever possible, the Nobel committee and the Academy will read the works of the candidates in the original language.
Obviously, we often have to rely on translations, but in those cases, we make an effort to read several versions of the same book,
e.g. one French and one German translation. It is true that literature, unlike science, is rooted in a cultural code with language as its
most important expression, but a great work of literature should have the power to reveal the universal meaning of local symbols
and conventions.

Re-read that last sentence; I couldn’t have said it better.

Email me at [email protected], and visit my blog at www.penmanila.net.

advertisement
- See more at: http://www.gmanetwork.com/news/opinion/content/184020/building-the-national/story/#sthash.XgWrgOSZ.dpuf

Activity 1: Exploring Texts and Contexts

1. Go online and read Butch Dalisay’s Essay “Building the National” (2010)
2. Write a short paragraph summarizing Dalisay’s argument.
3. In your small group, Discuss the following: Is Dalisay’s essay convincing? Why or why not? How does Dalisay use evidence?
Activity 2. Producing Texts
You are the editor of a literary section of a newspaper. You need to write a 500-word feature article on a Filipino contemporary
(21st century) author from outside your region. Do a library or online research on a noteworthy writer. Do not limit yourself to
those cited in the table of authors but be on the lookout for a lesser-known author you believe to be promising. Make sure that
your feature provides the following information:
background of the author
a short overview of the author’s literary works (books, online or print publications, etc)
a short sampling of the author’s work/s together with your commentary

End the article by highlighting what this author’s contribution is to contemporary Philippine literature.

SUMMARY:
Taboan, the Philippine International Writers Festival, will be making the rounds of the regions from year to year
before returning to manila. The festival got off to a lively start with a keynote speech by Cebu’s own Dr. Resil
Mojares, a formidable, internationally recognized scholar of Philippine literature, history, and society.
He chose a deliberately provocative subject and title for his talk: “Will Magdalena Jalandoni Ever Be a National
Artist?”.
Jalandoni (1891-1978), is an iloilo-born, prolific writer in Hiligaynon of fiction, poems, and plays. Her novels
alone totalling an astounding 36.
Resil stated that he wasn’t making a brief for Jalandoni’s selection as a National Artist. He is using Jalandoni’s
case to draw attention to the gross disadvantage at which Filipin writers working in languages other than
English and Filipino lie, particularly when it comes to recognition on a national or international level.
Dalisay (2010) made his point clear by stating some evidences that supports Jalandoni’s case. Dr. Mojares noted
that in the discussion of the nominees of Jalandoni last year, all the 10 or 12 members of the ‘council of elders’
had not read Jalandoni’s works, either due to language, unavailability of texts or translations, or simply because
Jalandoni did not fall within their area of expertise. Resil is concerned by the inequality of popular perceptions.
Dalisay (2010), stated in his essay, that someone who publishes in Hiligaynon in a periodical with circulation
of 50,000 is a ‘regional writer’. A writer in manila who publishes a 500-copy of English poems is a ‘national
writer’. Clearly, before we begin recognizing Filipino writers in all parts of the country, we should lay the
critical groundwork and first develop and support translators and critics, who can give literary judges a fairer
basis for their evaluations, to avoid injustice towards Filipino writers who write in their own dialect.

Advertisements