Snippets of 'Military Secrecy'

The original version of my submission for UP High/UPIS: 100 years of Basic Education in the University of the Philippines (2016), the centennial coffee table book.

I graduated from high school only eight years ago, in the year 2008, but already I've forgotten much of what I swore to always remember. What comes back are now just images, like photos, of what had passed and the reasons behind them. The stories, the unfolding of events, are blurred. Most of them about the Corps.

The Corps of Cadets composed of fourth year students (class '07) called an orientation for COCC (Cadet Officer Candidacy Course), the training of the higher CAT officers, in front of the Corps office one afternoon. My friends went so I did, too. They taught us the basics of what was expected of us, what we needed to prepare if we chose to join, and they let us try out following the commands after demonstration. I got in trouble for making my mother wait in the car that afternoon when she came to fetch me. I also got in trouble for letting one of my upper batch guy friends accompany me home (because I didn't know how to commute) when she left to fetch my sister first. But somehow, I managed to convinced her to let me join, even if it required a lot of adjustments not only on my part but also hers and my sisters'.

COCC required us to be in school as early as, I think, 6 am for morning physical training. It required us to stay after school until, I think, 6:30pm or 7pm for afternoon training.  This was a problem because I was almost always late for the 7am flag ceremony and my mother brought me to and fetched me from school. The rest of the changes were fun; there were a lot of unusual rules. The COCs (Cadet Officer Candidates) of each section were supposed to stick together all the time, even when going to the bathroom. We had to go by pairs at the very least. We were not allowed to step out of a room without following certain procedures. We had to run in formation to get to places. We were allowed to bump students who stand in our way. The girls had to wear a white bandana on their heads, the boys had to tuck their polos. These did not go well with some of our teachers, and I now understand why. But back then, it was everything to us. The looming threat of being made to quit surely stirred tears.

We were set apart from the rest of the school, enough to blissfully feed the adolescent ego, and yet, it was the first time I ever felt I belonged. Morning, lunch and afternoon trainings taught us to move as one through obedience to commands. We learned to look out for one another while being punished as a team for a few's mistakes. But best of all, we made new friends. Our officers weren't as scary and strict as they  are expected to be. In fact, training was almost mostly play. Sure it was physically tough, but we weren't miserable. Some of the most entertaining training sessions included three tall boys bopping and arguing to the lyrics of Datus Tribe's Lakambini Bottom, and being made to scream “HOTDOG!” Sometimes, we'd even hang out outside school premises, or after school events.

Older alumni would probably frown at what the Corps had become during our time. We didn't have a corps commander. When we finally became officers, we were given a faculty adviser. And eventually, if I heard correctly, they've removed the program altogether. The truth is I'm not sure it really mattered. We prided ourselves to be the best flag raisers in school, better than the scouts. But that was all. We didn't learn how to dismantle and put together a rifle. We were not equipped with skills aside from marching. I can no longer even recall the precepts and roster we were made to memorize. And the friendships, they didn't really last long after graduation from training. But that's just high school. It's not really about what you learn or what you keep. It's how you spent it. COCC was fun but I don't want to go through it again.

Rethinking

The line and the book that made me take philosophy and kept me there.

I'm re-reading Sophie's World and have been seeing things with fresh eyes, although these lines still share my sentiments. These are value statements, though, and I can't help wonder if we have the right to claim universality. But then again, these are indeed age old questions that have transcended time and culture. Although. . . are they the only ones?

Jostein Gaarder does admit that these questions appear after we have satisfied our basic needs. So then, maybe that's why it's so difficult to get absorbed in them. Most of the world is still struggling with these basic needs (yet, circles that have attained theirs, do not automatically go philosophical, but that is another matter). But... well, maybe the book never claimed this, maybe I have formulated this impression on my own... but... can we really say philosophical questions are more important than concerns about making a living? Or than social and economic issues? Or than current events and politics?

In my 4 years in the discipline, I kinda thought so. And I believe those in the department did so, too, most of them. Which explains the apathy and isolation, the nonparticipation. We took pride in being so... up there, so distant from what the worldly others thought important, so aloof and esoteric in our tower of abstractions, in the end, turning useless. All thought without action. All theory without application. Irrelevant and, eventually, mistaken. Because ultimately, thoughts, ideas, theories, beliefs, severely detached from reality and the world end up as hallucinations, delusions, illusions... mere speculation grounded on nothing. In the end, we become what we accuse of others. We become what we believe we least are... and not realize it.

Break

It's been a while. I have forgotten how to write more than quick one-liners.

There had been an increasingly waning interest in introspection and documentation, probably secondary to the pressure from the truckload of things needed to be accomplished, the overwhelming cascade of events that are yet to continue, the demise of an audience, and the undying longing to eliminate the green-eyed gremlin.

Before long, no thought would stand still enough to translate into words. Ideas, feelings, and memories would all melt away as soon as they are conceived. They would not be touched. They would not be exposed. As delicate as an uncovered wound that sting with the gentlest breeze, they would leave blank notebooks to thin from the tearing off of leaves that attempt to reveal them.

Today, I want that to change.

Quiapo Medical Center

Schedule a trip to what Dr. Michael Lim Tan calls the “Quiapo Medical Center” and the other big medical / private hospitals in Metro Manila any day prior to August 25, 2015 discussions. [Tuesday, August 25 at 1-3 pm on SDH: Culture and Illness]. Dress simply; try to blend in with the other consumers and/or church goers. Explore as many facets of the medical centers' - “wings”: emergency room, OPD, lobby, admitting section, pharmacy, wards [if any], cafeteria, other areas. As expected of a health professional, be respectful and observant. Keep your eyes open, listen to the sounds, smell your surroundings. Keep safe, be alert. Be aware of wonder.

A question of authenticity 

The first thing that concerned me about the whole Quiapo Medical Center concept was whether the 'personnel' really believed what they were offering. It's one thing to sell these things as part of a cultural system one really believes; to sell these things without believing in them is another and that just seems wrong. It's the difference between a quack doctor and a faith healer. Coming from a family of doctors in Quezon City, I have no prior experience with these things. It's a completely different world from the one I know. And so, authenticity was one of the issues I hoped to investigate.

Evolution of the Nickname Story (or Bakit Geno?)

Since college: "Hindi ko nga alam eh, ako daw pumili nun nung bata ako."

Since med: "Pinili ko lang daw yun nung 4 years old ako."

Since this year: "Dati yung tatay ko kasi Gen tawag sa'kin. Tas yung tita ko, Henobeba. Siguro pinagsama ko, kaya noong 4 years old ako sabi ko daw 'Ako si Geno noh!'"

Fridays

About three months ago, an unsuspecting student was invited for lunch by a couple of classmates to talk about faith and life stories. They met in the warm second floor corridor of their building during the hour-long break, but the conversation went far too interesting that they agreed to meet again in the afternoon after class. He had tons of questions which they wanted to answer, so they agreed to meet every Friday during lunch. However, something always came up on Fridays that they weren't able to meet.

As usual, this Friday, something came up that the student couldn't keep the appointment but instead sought the classmates after lunch. The news was that two of his groupmates attended in his stead, one was previously invited while the other, who was conveniently in the vicinity, joined out of intrigue.

As they did earlier, the classmates talked about Christian apologetics, and logic. The claim is that Christianity, despite being a religion that requires faith, does not at all dispense with reason. In fact, according to the Christian bible, God himself encourages thinking.

“Come now, let us reason together,

says the Lord”

Isaiah 1:18

It is a misconception that, in Christianity, matters of faith cannot and must not be questioned. For instance, Mary, one of God's most favored human beings who was then faced with the most extraordinary situation, just had to ask the fear-inspiring angel who brought her the news of her being a virgin mother, “How will this be, since I am a virgin?” and, without repercussions, was provided with an answer.

For a lot of questions on faith, if not all, God has provided answers. But whether these are recognized as answers or found to be adequate is a completely different matter. It remains, though, that the God who created the human brain with its intricate structure and functions that bring about human thought makes use of this same facility to enable us to comprehend parts of Himself. We are allowed and encouraged to think.

And this thrust is the foundation of the subsequent Friday discussions.

A Dialogue on Unconditional Love

A: It's about reciprocation. It's obvious that unconditional love is the greatest love of all. The ideal. What we should aim for, as it models God's love for us. But is it wrong to hope for reciprocation? Is it unbiblical to want to also receive the kind of love one gives?

A Critique of Reviews

Book reviews reveal more about the reviewer than the book itself. So it goes with other materials critiqued like movies, food, reports, papers, students.

Pop culture as shared contexts

I used to hate mainstream, thinking that if it mattered to the majority, chances are, it isn't so valuable in the end. Trends are fleeting, and people'd tire of them, their interests captured not for the value of the thing in itself, but the fact that it was attractive to many. With that in mind, I only checked things out when they're already considered laos. 

Ang Tanong ni Kia: Mnemonic para sa Type I at Type II Errors

Dalawang taon na ang nakararaan, may tanong ang kaibigan kong si Kia:

"Anong mas masakit na pagkakamali: Yung Type 1 error wherein you conclude that a relationship exists when in fact it doesn't OR Type 2 error where there is really a relationship but you fail to recognize it."

Isang paghihimay dito ang aking tinangka sa isang pinaglumaang sulok. Babalikan natin ito ngayon hindi upang muling sagutin, kundi upang paghugutan ng hindi bagong distinksyon.

From the Low End of the Bell Curve: Reflections on Medical Education

Two years ago, the release of the results of the my very first exam as a medical student began my disillusionment— not with myself, but with the medical curriculum, as it violates almost every article I've read on the effective learning: that learning should be spaced out, that learning should not be driven soley by exams, that taking frequent breaks are essential in absorption of a material, that the meaningfulness and relevance of a material aids in memory. . . Medical school, as we know it, is fast-paced, exam-centric, stressful, and detail-oriented to the point of meaninglessness.

Confession and Consultation: A Subtle Analogy

A friend comes to you and confesses, "I did something wrong. . ." and this wrong thing may range a wide spectrum: from an unintended neglect to an intentional act, from harming one's self to harming another, from a minor sin (if there is such a thing) to a grave, moral offense. . . What would you say? How would you react? Should your reaction depend on the weight of the offense? Should it depend on who was wronged? Should you consider whether it was intentional or not? Does it matter which friend was confessing?

Before you say anything, I think these things are worth considering:

1. The person is confessing (James 5:16). They have began to recognize and agree that what they did was wrong. They likely already feel remorse. 
2. Confession is hard. It is exposing one's flaws, and insecurities. It is revealing one's heart, rendering one vulnerable. 
3. The person chose to tell you, of all people. They regard you as someone they can talk to. They trust you.

Questions About Legalism

I don't think I understand the concept of legalism. According to John Piper, it is a certain attitude about the Law, a heart issue: it is pursuing the Law with some other engine than faith. I suppose it is what they refer to as trying to earn your salvation by being good in the belief that being good is what saves-- as if God requires it in exchange for salvation, as if it were a price to pay. 

But the question remains, what does it mean to pursue the Law by faith? If one pursues the Law not in order to earn God's favor but just in the desire to live as commanded, a desire to follow, is it safe to say that the person is on the right track?

GotQuestions presents another possible meaning of legalism: the demand of a strict literal adherence to rules and regulations. I understand this to be a lot like legal positivism, the theory in jurisprudence stating that law as written is absolute, followed word-for-word, as if simply a matter of pure semantics. I suppose this is considered an error in so far as it reveals an attitude like that of the Pharisees, an attitude that is essentially opposed to grace. Underlying their demand for strict compliance was the belief that it is works that save, that we have to deserve our salvation.

So then, what does this entail regarding obedience to Law? Are Christians not supposed to follow everything commanded in Scripture? Are we allowed to say "hindi naman kailangan e" about certain laws, like that about the Sabbath? Is there indeed such as a thing as 'optional commands'? How are we to choose which of them to strictly abide and which to be lax about? Is it even a matter of choice? Is it legalism, then, to feel indignant when one deems that a brother/sister in Christ failed to act according to what the Law states? Is it legalism to feel frustrated that there is so much disagreement in these matters? 

Some Christians discourage the performance of a practice if one does not feel the Spirit's leading, as it is the Spirit that one ought to follow to avoid legalism. But what does this even mean? Is obedience then just a matter of "feeling like it"? Are we only to help one another when we feel like it? Are we excused from following when we don't feel inclined to do so? Is forcing one's self to be kind to an enemy being legalistic? Is sharing the gospel out of obligation rather than feeling inclined to being legalistic? Is limiting to the minimal requirement what one follows being legalistic?

Pastor John writes

Discipline is not legalism. Hard work is not legalism. Acting against carnal impulses is not legalism. They may be. But they may also be the torque of the engine of faith running on the fuel of the Spirit to the glory of the grace of God in a self-centered and undisciplined world.

But this still does not clarify much.

Is asking these very questions being legalistic? Can not wanting to be legalistic itself be legalistic?

Cure vs. Treat: An Anecdote

Back in college, some of my philosophy classes conducted “objective” exams. That is, they asked identification/enumeration questions, instead of essay ones, but you can protest and defend your answer if it is different from the answer key.

There’s this one particular item that still haunts me to this very day. It’s a question about an analogy between something in philosophy and medicine. I don’t remember the exact question, but I remember the answer: cure the patient. I wrote treat the patient and it was marked wrong. People asked. The instructor reasoned that treating someone is not the same as curing someone. Treating someone was more like how you treat others, she said, and she was looking to the removal of the disease, as what the word ‘cure’ means. This was enough to appease the complainants. But she was wrong.

She forgot to account that a word may have several meanings, and treat does have different meanings. We had been using the word equivocally. In fact, in medical jargon, the word treatment is used a lot more than cure.

I knew this all along, but I never said anything.

A Case for Feelings in Faith and Medicine

A good doctor is not merely someone who can diagnose accurately and cure diseases, but someone who treats the person behind the disease. As the usually quoted aphorism goes, a physician

cures sometimes, relieves often, comforts always.

Medicine is not just the science that aims to eliminate illnesses, it is the art of communicating with people in the manner that addresses their interests. To me, this second part is more than a job. It is a command, the way of life to which I am called:

Do nothing from rivalry or conceit, but in humility count others more significant than yourselves. Let each of you look not only to his own interests, but also to the interests of others. Phil 2:3-4

Reconsidering Mr. Tan's Faith

A few months ago, I wrote about the concept of faith that Amy Tan acquired from her parents, saying that both concepts of her mother and father assume that God’s will is to grant our wishes. Her mother was Chinese, who heavily believed in the Chinese concept of luck. Her father was a minister who wrote this as his definition of faith in his own journal:

Faith is the confident assurance that something we want is going to happen. It is the certainty that what we hope for is waiting for us even though we still cannot see it ahead of us.

I said that what Mr. Tan meant by “something we want” is exactly that, something we want, our own self-centered desires. But after reading this article about George Müller, I started to think that maybe I’ve misunderstood what Mr. Tan really meant, as I was reading him only through Amy’s interpretation. Perhaps I’ve harshly scrutinized what he said based on strict semantics-- an elitist error that merely intellectualizes, instead of seeking to understand or be understood-- when I should’ve looked first at the context. And here was the context:

Jean-Paul Sarte's Concept of Hell

He sums it up in four words: "Hell is other people!" And these words may be found in his play No Exit.

[SPOILER ALERT!]

On Filipino Translations

It's common to hear people complain when certain TV stations dub an English movie or an English TV show in Filipino. I was among those who were a bit squeamish when the Filipino translations of 50 Shades of Grey and Hunger Games came out, and it wasn't because of the novels themselves (although, of all popular young adult fiction, I cannot fathom why 50 Shades would be worth translating). I think it's the process itself, the translation of an English material into Filipino.

On Professional Fees and Principles

Conversations with non-medical (former) classmates about my (soon-to-be) profession are usually steered towards a discussion of specializations-- what I want, what they hope I'd be, and/or what they believe is most profitable (hence, I should consider). Sometimes, the people who nudge me towards profit are also those from whom I have heard constant grievances regarding outrageous hospital bills and medical fees. So I'm not quite sure what they're driving at. Are they condemning the system or are they encouraging me to be part of it? Perhaps both?

Amy Tan's Faith vs. Fate Dichotomy

Some years ago, a friend who knew I was into writing recommended that I read Amy Tan's memoir, The Opposite of Fate. This year, I finally did in hopes of appeasing my frustrations in writing fiction. I loved how she wrote the memoir that I decided to read The Joy Luck Club, her first book. I liked it, too, that it convinced me to learn chess. I learned that fiction writing did not necessarily mean use of only pure imagination (I suck at that) and one can start as old as I am and still be good at it (Amy Tan began even older!).

But there was one thing about both writings that struck me, and not in the good way: her faith vs. fate dichotomy.

There is this passage in The Joy Luck Club:

My mother believed in God's will for many years. It was as if she had turned on a celestial faucet and goodness kept pouring out. She said it was faith that kept all these good things coming our way, only I thought she said "fate," because she couldn't pronounce the "th" sound in "faith."

And later, I discovered that maybe it was fate all along, that faith was just an illusion that somehow you're in control.