Lullabyes of Fear, Nursery Rhymes of Silence

It has always bothered me why despite the need for us to challenge the system, that it is easier for people to accept things the way they are. This is not apathy. This is simple resignation and acceptance due to fear--fear of reprisal, fear of the unknown, fear of disturbing the peace, fear of the consequences.

And this is true not only among the less in power and life, but even more true for those who are privileged. In fact, I suspect that courage is even in higher supply among those who have nothing to lose than those who have lots at stake. Even in the University, in which liberal minds are supposed to thrive, I am always warned by friends to be careful not to rock the boat. Indeed, what happened to me in my previous University, which hounded me even when I was already in DLSU, is a living testimony to the consequences of boldness, of being too courageous to speak out during University Council meetings, and of being branded a trouble maker, a young upstart who had the audacity to speak truth to power. Many of my friends told me that what happened to me had a chilling effect even when I was gone from UPLB.

Just recently, I was again advised by friends to just stay away from the limelight when I come back from my Sabbatical, and to just lie below the radar. I have to ask why. They tell me that there is much to be gained by silence. Well, knowing myself, I would probably not heed such call, and still speak out my mind in the most civil manner, respectful of authority, but nevertheless critical when there is a need for it. After all, DLSU prides itself of having a curriculum that instills critical thinking among its students; and the manner by which our DLSU leaders have engaged the current state of politics is inspiring me to practice what we preach not only when we are critical of the flaws of the Arroyo Administration, but hopefully, and more importantly, when we are required to be self-critical of our own flaws as an institution.

But still, I am most uncomfortable with the thought that even professors have to put value more on fear than on courage, and have to justify silence and acceptance with the rewards of having an easier and perhaps more lucrative life. I remember a conversation with a friend in my previous University. He was complaining a lot about policies, and was asking me to raise the issue in the University Council. I had to ask him why don't he raise it himself. He replied tersely that he could not jeopardize his career by being branded as a troublemaker. I had to ask him what about my own career. He simply laughed and told me that at least I already have the reputation of being a critic, and that I have nothing to lose.

This added to my discomfort. It is saddening that many people have deep problems with the system, but would remain silent or would not dare speak up, and would rely on those who have the courage (or stupidity, perhaps, or naivete) to speak on their behalf. No wonder we have very few heroes and martyrs, even as oppressive and corrupt governments and administration flourish with the tacit consent of the many.

Courage is supposed to be a virtue, but people choose to be afraid because fear is more convenient, and even personally rewarding.

But why is it that it is easier to be afraid.

One of the reasons, perhaps, why this is so is found in the narratives of how we are reared when we were still children. Our lullabyes that were supposed to lull us to sleep may seem innocent, but embedded in their texts are two dominant themes: baby, you better sleep or something bad will happen; or, baby, you have to sleep now since something bad has happened. Melancholy in some lullabyes is associated with fear of separation (Ili ili, tulog anay, wala dire, imong nanay, kadto tienda, bakal papay, ili ili, tulog anay). There is even one Bikolano lullabye that is plainly morbid in its message when it avows that the consequence for being a bad child is for the parents to cut off one's head and throw it in the lake, hoping that the parents will later take pity and mercifully take back the decapitated head when they see it floating in the water (Ay Nanay ay Tatay, kun ako maraot, pugutan nin payo, ibuntog sa lawod, kun mahiling nindo na aanod-anod, ay nanay ay tatay, sapuda man tulos).

Even nursery rhymes are also full of scary images of eggs falling from a wall and not being able to be made whole again, or of Jack and Jill falling down a hill. Many fables and fairy tales have a plethora of witches and ogres. And the seemingly innocent rhyme about rings of roses on a pocketful of poses is deeply rooted from the black plague when children really "fall down" after sneezing.

Call me too imaginative. But if we want to instill courage as the more natural choice, and not fear, we have to really change our lullabyes, nursery rhymes and fairy tales.