Tuesday, November 17, 2015

And We Lose Another One.

A long time ago, I was part of the UPLB Perspective,  the UPLB answer to UP Diliman's Collegian. In the two years that I worked with that paper, I'd gotten to know some amazing people. Flash forward to today. A colleague--Val-- has recently passed, and there's likely to be a reunion at the wake.

It's not hard to put your erstwhile colleagues away from your thoughts when your own concerns keep you preoccupied and your worlds have necessarily changed. Val was such a colleague, and for the year or so that we worked together as part of the university newspaper--yes, it was work-- we were friends, somewhat.  Now, he's gone, and the questions we're left with are the usual rhetorical ones.

I tried hard to disconnect from the old life--the one with Val in it-- because part of me knew that  college was temporary. Our group was so big, it had factions, sub-groups put together according
to year ('92 for me), organization (the humorously named Org-Y for Val), and other criteria. While I did feel close to a good number of my colleagues, they weren't my adopted family at the guidance office just across the hall. I knew I'd lose contact with my friends from the paper and I'd wanted to inoculate myself against the loss; leave UPLB with fewer, but longer-lasting connections.

I'm wondering, especially now that I'm keeping away from my adopted family at the guidance office across the hall,  if that was wise. Because I did care about my colleagues at the paper, and I miss the camaraderie that sprang from our long nights at camp fires, from long bus rides and press work, and from being forced to work in the same office, and from being threatened by angry frat-men or university authority figures. When I see the Org-Y guys sharing pics on Facebook, connecting very well  with other members of the paper, I'm keenly reminded of what I don't have.

Sadly, there's no going back. I'm not the same person I was in college (and neither should I want to be), but that's the same person my peers are expecting to see. Same guy, but older, maybe more worn, but conforming somewhat with their idea of "He must have gone places by now."

I did and I didn't, and my story isn't one that will inspire pride in my former colleagues. I should know: I lived it.

Now, Val is dead, and I should pay my respects. In the best of worlds, I'd be there, shake hands, offer condolences, weep with my peers and be gone. I've been away from them too long, though. The hands they shake will be the hands of a stranger who only dimly remembers that we lived and worked together. I'm not sure I should inflict that on my peers.

Friday, March 06, 2015

On Mob Justice

There's an hour long BBC documentary making the rounds on the Internet. No one in it shows any gore, but the descriptions of how a particular rape happened in India are enough to make most anyone question his faith in humanity. You turn cynical when you hear how defense lawyers justified the behavior of the rapists. If you plan to watch it-- assuming you can find it amidst copyright takedowns and calls to suppress it-- steel yourself, and take the time to pause the video, because you might have to.

A link to a CNN article about the documentary is here.

One of my Facebook groups had a thread on mob justice where this (from the  New Indian Express) was shared and discussed. The question on the poster's mind was, "Do you agree with mob justice?" TL;DR: My answer was "No."

I'm putting my longer response below.

Q. "Do you support mob justice? Or do you think it is justified?"

A. No. Angry mobs tend to punish crimes disproportionately. 

They serve as a kind of release for the people who join them (and only for this emotional sense would I agree that there is some justification for mob justice), but they're not just meting out punishment for one particular crime. An individual member of a mob could just be using the mob's desire to punish a criminal as an excuse to lash out against an entirely different issue, such as his own frustration with life or maybe his own poverty. (Ask yourself: Why is there a risk of looting when protests turn ugly?)

They might also be making the criminal a scapegoat. The fierceness with which a mob calls for a criminal's death might be a reflection of the fear each member feels about himself. The existence of the criminal implies the existence of criminal tendencies within the self. Punishing the criminal excessively (by demanding blood, for example) may be an act of denial. By asking for extreme measures, the mob member is saying "This is not me/my country/my culture!" 

This is neither fair to the criminal (being forced to bear someone else's sins) nor does it show that the mob is a group of brave, just, and thinking people-- the kind of people who have a right to mete out proper justice.

Mob violence satiates the crowd's bloodlust and allays its fear and anguish, but it doesn't really fix the problem of crime. In the case of most rape, the real problem is not that people feel sexual urges. It's the mindset that (generally) males have: women are objects (regardless of whether they should be 'protected' or 'used'), or that women are second class citizens who automatically come under the protection and authority of men. An angry mob is not subtle enough to deal with this problem. An angry mob cannot sit and think about what social reforms have to be made to address it.

It's Over Nine Thouuuusaaaaaaand!

My blog is old, and it has practically 9000 page views. By the time I'm done with this post, that Dragon Ball Z joke will finally apply.

I don't know how to feel about that. It's small change, given that the blog has been around since 2003. Thanks so much, Romanian reader who visited because he was maybe looking for something else! You and so many other search bots have allowed this Dragon Ball Z reference to happen.

I need a drink. What's good to drink in Romania?