The Roots of A Compromised Citizenry

There is a saying that the hands that rock the cradle rule the world. Added to this is the usual mantra about powerful women behind the success of powerful men. Well, this is almost true, for as we see the soaring popularity of one Manny Pacquiao as he demolished all his enemies on the ring, one by one, we just recenlty began to be confronted with the, well, not-s0-silent anymore, power of Aling Dionisia as she amuses us with her dance moves and innate comedian instincts. Now we know where the showbiz side of Manny comes from. Another mother figure comes to mind as well in the person of Annabelle Rama, the patron of stage-mothering herself, ready to spew bile at her children's detractors.

But while we idolize the caring presence of the mother, on the other side lies the marked absence of the father in most narratives, perhaps stemming from the stereotypical paternal image of somebody who has authority but is distant, who has control but is silent. Manny Pacquiao's father is just a sideshow compared to the main event provided by Aling Dionisia, even as Eddie Gutierrez has always been silent whenever Anabelle goes on a rampage defending her son Richard and daughter Ruffa.

The dominant image of a mother is one of protective love, as somebody who will risk limb and life to protect her brood. But deeply embedded in all of these images of nurturing and love is the dangerous implications of an act of disempowerment hiding in the comforting warmth of maternal care.

Someone once told me that the definition of a sweater to a child is something that you wear when your mother feels cold. Indeed, mothers who feel chilly almost always assume that their children must feel cold, and insist that they wear thick clothing, without even bothering to ask. In the name of protective caring, they in turn deny children the right to make a choice. And this is not just about sweaters. It's about the whole array of instances where they make decisions on behalf of their children, from what clothes to wear, to taking ballet, piano and taekwondo lessons. Of course, mothers don't mean harm. They just want what is best for their children. They want them to look the best and enjoy the best in life, but often they forget to ask their children and only base their decisions solely on what they think is best. As they say, mother knows best.

But the political implications of this could be costly. When we grow older, we are now confronted with major decisions to make, some of which go beyond personal interests and may impact on the interest of others and the larger public. Often, parents lament how their grown up children are seemingly unable to make the right decisions in their lives. As conscientious citizens, we often gnash our teeth and wonder how could we make wrong decisions as we keep on voting the wrong kind of politicians into office, even as we withold our support for the right political causes. We wonder why. We blame almost everyone and everything, from the system to our culture to our historical past. But we seem to forget that one of the foundations of a citizenry whose decision-making capacities are compromised lie in the inner sanctums of our homes, in the everyday manner we rear our children. We deny them the capacity to make choices, perhaps as a way to insulate them from suffering the consequences if they make the wrong ones. But it is in these practices of nurturing, of which we mean no harm, that we also jeopardize the emergence of a healthy civic culture of our future citizens.

I don't mean to heap the blame solely on mothers, or aunts, or yayas, all women, even as most of the child-rearing land on their laps. The relative absence of the father also corrodes the attitude of ordinary citizens about power. Paternal authority is one that is usually feared and obeyed, the one that has the last say, the one that is silent but is compelling. Mothers offer the comfort of being there. Fathers, on the other hand, offer the stability and security of silence. It is the image of the father that carries the metaphor of power and authority, and the dominant discourse that is embedded in the psyche of the young is one that exists along the ethic of fear and awe, and not of affection and love. Thus, authority and power are things that are distant, but have to feared. As Machiavelli said it, it is better to be feared than to be loved. While this may refer to how the State and its rulers should project towards the citizen, this is also the dominant construct that shapes paternal presence despite their relative absence. The father is the feared but rarely seen or felt parent.

Thus, we have children denied by their mothers the right to choose in the name of protective love; even as they are provided stability and security by their absent fathers who carry their power and authority as coercive means that demand obedience, and not affection.

In the end, we eventually have citizens who could not make the right decisions, even as they have a distant relationship with the State and its instrumentalities, devoid of affection, dominated by fear, and even resentment for its being a necessary imposition and for having the monopoly for the legitimate use of violence.

We take so much time inquiring into the roots of a compromised citizenry, when in fact it could probably be found whenever mothers who feel chilly insist that their children wear sweaters, and whenever fathers, who are absent or not visible and are not affectionate, insist on their power over the household.