“The Philippine Press: Between Two Traditions” and “The ‘El Renacimiento’ Law Suit”
It’s fitting that these two passages were presented together, to be read in sequence. In the first reading, Teodoro dives into the history of the Philippine “alternative press”—not the sterile, objective press that the Americans cultivated, but the press that was a veritable microphone for the voice of revolution. The second reading, meanwhile, is a testimonial from Kalaw of the type of reporting and journalism that makes Teodoro execute cartwheels of joy—I don’t know if he was a gymnast, but I guess it’s a nice image.
Nevertheless, Teodoro raises an intriguing question that you-can-bet-your-lunch-money has contemporary implications: to what extent is it the responsibility of the press to function as an advocate for social and political change? Is it the press’ responsibility to do more than report “objectively” (to provide social commentary, for instance)? And by social commentary I don’t mean Red Carpet play-by-play by Joan Rivers or, heaven help us, an episode of The View—my lola calls the latter tsismis.
The editorial that Kalaw—or Fidel Reyes, actually—wrote, “Birds of Prey,” is a caustic diatribe. The editorial never explicitly points fingers, but, given the political context of that time period, I guess it’s fairly evident at whom the editorial is directed. I would have thought that Worcester’s actions during the law suits and legal proceedings would have exacerbated his standing and reputation more so than the gibes in the article. The legal actions he took in the aftermath of the editorial’s publication proved every word of the article to be true. In refuting claims that he was a vulture and usurper, Worcester “obtained possession of the names, good will, etc., of the two newspapers, which was the hardest blow of all” (Kalaw 56).
If the article was directed at American imperialists, then perhaps in describing them as birds, as animals, the writer was turning back upon Americans the Western notion that non-whites were less-evolved, closer on the evolutionary timeline to apes. Regardless, whoever the editorial is addressing is giving birds a bad name!
From the first article, I got the impression that the Filipino voice is raised, especially and particularly, in the thick of adversity. The Filipino voice is tangled not only in Church choir harmonies, is contained not only in whispered rosaries, is so much more than the reverb from Tito Boy’s rendition of “My Way” on the Minus One. The Filipino voice is its strongest when it is advocating revolution. But it’s a difficult task to maintain the fighting spirit when, superficially, there is little to push against: “…during periods of normalcy, those lessons—learned at great cost during the Revolution and the Japanese period, and recalled during the martial law years—tend to be forgotten in the wave of complacency that follows any period of crisis” (Teodoro 35).
Nevertheless, Teodoro raises an intriguing question that you-can-bet-your-lunch-money has contemporary implications: to what extent is it the responsibility of the press to function as an advocate for social and political change? Is it the press’ responsibility to do more than report “objectively” (to provide social commentary, for instance)? And by social commentary I don’t mean Red Carpet play-by-play by Joan Rivers or, heaven help us, an episode of The View—my lola calls the latter tsismis.
The editorial that Kalaw—or Fidel Reyes, actually—wrote, “Birds of Prey,” is a caustic diatribe. The editorial never explicitly points fingers, but, given the political context of that time period, I guess it’s fairly evident at whom the editorial is directed. I would have thought that Worcester’s actions during the law suits and legal proceedings would have exacerbated his standing and reputation more so than the gibes in the article. The legal actions he took in the aftermath of the editorial’s publication proved every word of the article to be true. In refuting claims that he was a vulture and usurper, Worcester “obtained possession of the names, good will, etc., of the two newspapers, which was the hardest blow of all” (Kalaw 56).
If the article was directed at American imperialists, then perhaps in describing them as birds, as animals, the writer was turning back upon Americans the Western notion that non-whites were less-evolved, closer on the evolutionary timeline to apes. Regardless, whoever the editorial is addressing is giving birds a bad name!
From the first article, I got the impression that the Filipino voice is raised, especially and particularly, in the thick of adversity. The Filipino voice is tangled not only in Church choir harmonies, is contained not only in whispered rosaries, is so much more than the reverb from Tito Boy’s rendition of “My Way” on the Minus One. The Filipino voice is its strongest when it is advocating revolution. But it’s a difficult task to maintain the fighting spirit when, superficially, there is little to push against: “…during periods of normalcy, those lessons—learned at great cost during the Revolution and the Japanese period, and recalled during the martial law years—tend to be forgotten in the wave of complacency that follows any period of crisis” (Teodoro 35).