Getting Personal, Getting Political

An interesting report appeared in the front pages of the Philippine Daily Inquirer today. In it, creative writer and literary critic Bienvenido Lumbera essentially stressed the role of literature in a socio-political context. That is, it provides the oppressed and the silenced with a voice, with another way to articulate political and social issues and problems (not to mention scandals). This assertion is nothing new. Now, what do I think about it?

I personally don’t have a problem with that. Literature certainly serves other functions, not just to entertain. And Philippine literature has had a long history of producing works with strong socio-political content, from Rizal’s own Noli and Fili to the poems of the Lacaba brothers (Emmanuel’s Open Letter to Filipino Artists and Jose’s Prometheus Unbound) and F. Sionil Jose’s novels. I’ll only have a problem with it when works of that kind are rendered artlessly, unimaginatively (unfortunately, there are a lot of that; and some of them even feel like virtual propaganda).

Artful or not, the question still remains: do these works reach the right readers, the people who would be most receptive to them? I don’t think so. This is particularly true for Philippine literature in English. At this point, I’m reminded of one of the things Butch Dalisay wrote about the Filipino short story in English, which I think is also true for Philippine literature in English: it “remains an elitist and middle-class enterprise enjoyed by a very few, because very few Filipinos among the middle class whose anxieties make up the stuff of our fiction truly want to read about themselves. Alienation and commercialism will not bed together.”

That’s why I believe Philippine literature in Filipino and in the regional languages have a much better chance of fulfilling its function as a socio-political tool. That’s why Rolando Tinio, Bienvenido Lumbera and Jose Lacaba shifted to Filipino as their chosen language of creative expression during the late 1960’s and early 1970’s. However, I personally have yet to see solid proof of its impact on the greater population. Or maybe there was, but I’m just ignorant about it. Plus, many of our younger writers today, including those writing in the local languages, come from the middle class, mainly because they have better access to a good education.

It’s sad, really: creative writers from the working class, who I think are in a better and more credible position to write about socio-political concerns (because they feel these concerns more closely), have become increasingly rare. Let’s face it: many of those from that class have other, more pressing matters to think about other than writing poetry or prose. Not only that, their facility in English and even in Filipino leaves a lot to be desired, and competence in either or both languages is a basic requirement in effective creative writing. Worse, this lack of language competence is becoming more common in some of our best schools! And I even haven’t tackled the subject of writing in English (or Filipino) as a political, as well as a personal decision yet.

But I think I’m going too far at this point. As I have mentioned earlier, literature serves other roles, not just to entertain. Or to educate. As far as I’m concerned, the role—and responsibility—of literature (or any literary work in any language) is to provide the reader a different, even fresh perspective on once-familiar human experiences, be it personal or political in nature. And making sure it reaches the most appropriate audience.