communication

This article is the fifth in a series of research studies about Philippine communication environments. For the introduction and  theoretical framework, see Part 1. To know more: Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4

Professor Julienne Baldo took our Communication Environment class to visit a spa, not only for us to relax at the end of the semester, but also to examine our ideas of body image vis-a-vis current cultural definitions and standards.

On the surface a spa seems like an ordinary, even boring, place to go, where not much happens by way of communication. After all, people go there to rest, not to talk. But as communication scholars always say, communication happens everywhere, anytime – even in places you’d least expect it. And the silence of the spa spoke volumes.

Wensha Spa: Exploring Body Image  and Wellness

The Architecture

The facade of this – and any – establishment conveys meanings that give clues to the kind of place it is and the patrons that frequent it.

First, the sign. Wensha Spa at Timog Avenue corner Quezon Avenue is open 24/7 , and makes this information known via a huge yellow and green neon sign. Mounted on a wall faced with Mactan stone, the bright sign beckons; it can be seen a long way off.

Next, the parking lot – it was crammed with late-model sedans and SUVs, with other patrons being dropped off by cabs.

The use of comparatively simple materials in the sign and the number and type of cars in the parking lot  convey to passersby that the place is upscale but still within a price range that is affordable to those of a certain socio-economic status; that it is decent and perhaps not too expensive, as, say, the same services at a five-star hotel. One can derive meaning from these signs to assess if he or she can afford this establishment’s services or not.

The entrance is of transparent glass, allowing people from the street to see within. Thus, it attracts; an opaque front would be a barrier to walk-in customers because it could denote exclusivity. Since one can peek within, she is aided in her decision-making on whether to enter or not. The impression is one of cleanliness and good service, with a welcoming air.

Once inside, the place offers more clues about its nature. A sofa greets patrons on the left side of the lobby; here, one can wait and view the menu of services. (At the time of our visit, Wensha was offering a promotional discount package of P680 for a massage and all-you-can-eat buffet for a six-hour stay.)

Further into the lobby on the right side is an altar, painted red, upon which are displayed Buddhist statues and offerings of fruit and candy. This leads to the assumption that the owner is Buddhist and is Filipino-Chinese, if not a Chinese national.  Right across the altar is the reception counter, where harried front-desk clerks check in customers, take their shoes, and issue claim tags and locker room keys. One must pay in advance for the chosen services.

At the end of the lobby is a curving staircase. The color scheme changes from bland to black and gold. A huge painting on the upper part of the wall is a surprise. One would not expect to see this, an image that depicts “the bath” in a confused jumble of themes, with a Roman-style bath surrounded by nude Chinese beauties, echoing the “harem” themes of the Orientalist paintings of Gerome and Grecian-inspired ditto of  Alma-Tadema that were so popular among the Victorians during the late 19th century.

The image is replete with meanings and ideas. Are these ladies the concubines of an emperor, perhaps? What would seeing this image make female customers think – that they should look as curvaceous as these painted ladies, so that the “emperors” in their life will take notice of them? that one should be as sensual and sensuous as they are? For male customers – what ideas will they carry away after looking at this painting? That the women in their life should look like this, or aspire to? Would this painting lead someone to believe that frequent bathing at Wensha will make one’s appearance mirror that of the ladies?

Upon reaching the second floor, guests are greeted with a buffet spread of food. It is nondescript and too oily. There  are hardly any vegetable dishes, no fresh fruit, and desserts are kept behind glass cases and cost extra. Do not, under any account, think of coming here for the food. As for drinks, there are dispensers of too-sweet Tang and Nestea. It is all self-service, though waiters scurry around clearing the twelve or fifteen tables that bristle with diners clad in street clothes or spa-supplied bathrobes.

Shabu-shabu is offered, the tiny gas-powered stoves placed directly on the dining tables. Some of the couches are covered in badly-cracked vinyl that pinch skin horribly, especially if one is wearing shorts or a skirt. That lack of attention to the furniture disappoints; with comfort diminished, the estimation of the place is lowered.

The men’s and women’s bathing areas are separate. This reflects cultural norms. Entering the bathing area, guests pass first through a door and into a corridor with more doors on both sides leading to common area (shared) and VIP (exclusive) massage rooms. At the end is a dressing counter with mirrors and one hair dryer – a problem when there are many women getting ready to leave after their baths. At the end are the locker rooms. Guests are issued one towel and one robe. All are expected to undress to bare skin. Clad only in the robe, the baths beckon.

The spaces up to this point are small and narrow, acting as conduits for the guests, leading them inevitably to the baths, which are in a wide and low-ceilinged space, contributing to a feeling of coziness and shelter. However, these are precisely the attributes, along with the lack of windows on the entire second floor, that might induce claustrophobia in those who cannot bear to be in enclosed areas.

The Artifacts and Activities

Inside the “wet” area are several rooms, stalls, and a couple of pools. First on the right is a “body scrub” room, which is tiled and has drains, shower hoses, and a padded waterproof table. Beside this room, along the right-hand wall, are rows of hot-and-cold shower stalls. Then comes the sauna with glass walls; beside it is the steam room, always fogged over; and a toilet.

In the center of the space are the two pools, raised above the surface of the floor – one filled with hot water, the other with ice-cold. Guests first take a bath in the shower stalls with the supplied liquid soap, then step into the hot pool, staying in it for as long as they can possibly stand before switching to the cold pool.

A television set mounted on the wall gives bored bathers something to focus on. There were also TV sets in the dining room, showing the ubiquity of the mass media, and that many people nowadays prefer or require the electronic buzz to stimulate their brains, instead of giving their entire attention to their companions.

First-timers will mostly experience timidity and shyness when disrobing, especially with friends. With strangers, the anxiety is less, but, Julienne assured us, it diminishes with subsequent visits and after one gets used to the experience of bathing nude with strangers.

Bea, Gia, and I, all newbies to the public bath experience, whipped off our towels and stepped into the hot bath as quickly as possible while trying to cover what we could of our private parts, until we were fully hidden by the water. Chitchat opted to merely dip her feet in the pool, admitting her reluctance to disrobe. Julienne was more relaxed and comfortable with herself, and showed no shyness in being nude, although being pregnant, she could not stay in the pool for long.

We had all taken Dr Sylvia Claudio’s class on Gender and Sexuality (Women and Development 227 at the UP-Diliman College of Social Work and Development), where body image was heavily discussed and debated, and agreed that the spa experience forces one to directly confront issues about self and image. How does one perceive beauty? What are one’s standards – do they subscribe to the cultural norm that is Western-based, idolizing a “Barbie” frame – thin waist, big bust – and mestiza looks – fair skin and tall nose? Or is one content with what she looks like, glorifying in her body, with health and glowing skin the prized assets?

The sauna and steam room have a more relaxed ambience, as towels are allowed. Skin takes on a ruddy hue, and, as sweat breaks, one imagines dirt and toxins leaving the body through opened pores. A bucket of ice cubes, drinking water dispenser, and plastic cups are nearby. Rubbing ice over skin helps one take the heat and stay longer in the steam and sauna rooms, where chatting is more animated since the distraction of nudity is eliminated.

After the bath, sauna, and steam, massage is next. Still in a robe, nude or with panties, one chooses a common room, shared with strangers, or VIP rooms that can hold up to three friends. The rooms are dimly lit and there is unobtrusive Asian muzak in the background.

A masseuse approaches and asks if one wants a hard or moderate massage. I ask for “Whatever, and if it hurts I’ll tell you.” I am kneaded and pummeled and rubbed into a state of gelatinous relaxation. I feel almost boneless until she lifts me and cracks my spine. After the massage, one may sleep. (There are charges for every extra hour spent at the spa over six hours.) But before you doze off, the masseuse hands you a ticket upon which different tips amounts are printed. Though a tip is customary in such circumstances, being reminded of this, forcibly, detracts from the entire experiences as one is unpleasantly jerked back to the realization that this is a commercial establishment.

The Spa Goers

In the dining area, which is open to both men and women, there are quite a few foreigners – Koreans, Chinese, Middle Easterners, Caucasians. Most of the patrons were young to middle-aged people, many looking like professionals.  There were people with their arms around each other – lovers, perhaps – but only hetero couples.

We saw no same-sex couples in the women’s area, but Rod said there were in the men’s area. His assessment was that for many of the couples, the hours spent at Wensha were a treat, to unwind and relax after a stressful day’s work. Certainly all the spa goers looked refreshed. Any problems they had were put on hold as they, with their visit to the spa, consciously sought to set aside their cares for a time and attend to themselves for once through this method of alternative healing and recuperation.

After dinner, bath, and massage, Chitchat, Julienne, I, Rod, and Bea glow for the camera. For obvious reasons, photography is not allowed within the bath and massage areas.

Rod, Bea, and I rode a cab home together. We processed our experiences during the trip. Soc-sci geeks forever!

Wensha Spa is at Timog corner Quezon Avenue, Quezon City. There is a branch at Buendia Avenue, near Sofitel.

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This article starts a series of research studies about Philippine communication environments.

I had seen its carved facade before, on a trip with fellow fountain pen collectors to look for pens in the wilds of downtown Manila. A drive-by along that street left me intrigued. I had no idea then that a year later, I would discover the wonder of the temple’s glittering, golden interior.

In this semester’s PhD Communication Environment class at the University of the Philippines College of Mass Communication, our professor, Dr. Joey Lacson, said that it was best for us to learn about communication in different environments by actually visiting them. He and each of us students had to take the rest of the class to a place the others hadn’t visited before.

For her trip, Nina Villena chose to take us to Seng Guan temple in the heart of Binondo – a serendipitous random happenstance that opened my eyes and mind to a different side of my Manila.

From the outside, the temple looks like a hodgepodge of buildings that have sprouted in haphazard fashion through the years. But look closer to discover the wonderful things that abound inside.

The Communication Environment

Communication is, quite simply, the sharing of meaning. It always occurs within context, and this context is rooted in the environment. A person may use varying communication styles depending where she might be – for instance, she may use more formal and academic language while in class, and shift to a more informal way of speaking when with friends or at home.

The environment also conveys information that a person will organize and interpret to derive meaning. The semiotic model helps explain this process by conceiving data as a set of signs that bring up corresponding concepts in the mind. Signs may then be arranged into codes. Languages are examples of complex codes.

Non-verbal signs, touch (haptics), artifacts, and even space and distance (proxemics) may also be   part of a code that will impart meanings within a system of interrelated message senders and receivers.

A system cannot survive without its environment. An environment is active, and this activity creates further impact on the system. Since humans are always immersed in an environment, this reinforces the truism that it is impossible for people not to engage in communication wherever they may be.

Communication and Culture

Culture is “the complex collection of knowledge, folklore, language, rules, rituals, habits, lifestyles, attitudes, beliefs, and customs that link and give a common identity to a particular group of people at a specific point in time.” These elements that comprise a culture are constructed by society, meaning that negotiation takes place between the members of that society regarding the meanings attached to these elements until agreement is reached.

The relationship between communication and culture is complex and intertwined. Cultural elements, taken as artifacts along with their constructed meanings, form the communication environment. These artifacts may also be considered as “text”, the ‘what’ of communication that is observed and subjected to textual analysis so that the ‘how’ and ‘why’ of communication may be understood.

Consequently, any part of an environment may be studied as an artifact in order to derive and interpret meaning from it – meaning that can help the observer understand the context he is in, and guide his actions and responses within that environment.

Seng  Guan Temple: A Trove of Cross-Cultural Communication

The temple, established in 1936, espouses the Mahayana style of Buddhism, specifically that of the Pure Land sect. Part of the sect’s belief system is that nirvana (cessation of existence), the ultimate goal after countless cycles of life,  is no longer achievable during modern times, but that a way to heaven (the “Pure Land”) may still be achieved by good works and endlessly chanting the name of the Buddha – “Amitabha, Amitabha.”

The Architecture

The facade of the entrance is ornately carved in a style that is distinctly Chinese, exotic to eyes not exposed to the culture. There is no gate. The lack of a barrier at the entrance projects an aura of welcome reaches out to visitors and draws them in. Just within the entrance, a jolly Maitreya Buddha greets worshippers and visitors with a smile.

A stone lion, one of a pair, stands guard in front of the Buddha statue. The carving is deep and ornate, the subject a ‘cute’ mythological creature, inviting you to run your fingers over the runnels and recesses in the stone, and reach for the ball in the lion’s mouth. Again it is an artifact that beckons one to enter, approach, and touch.

Mr. Carlos Tan, who works at the temple, offered to be our tour guide and showed us around. Practically nothing was off limits; one feels a deep sense of acceptance for and tolerance of visitors, something that one does not readily experience in churches of other faiths. Although it is not stated directly, the license to explore comes with a common-sense caveat: the temple is a place of worship, and as such a visitor must conduct himself with proper respect for the place and its purpose.

The halls are wide and expansive, with high ceilings and spaces that entice one to roam around. Having an expanse of space is made possible by the practice of not providing seats for worshippers, only red-upholstered kneelers that are tucked away in small storage rooms on off-days.

The interior of the ground floor, with three Buddha images flanked by fresh and faux flowers and offerings of fruit.

The hall on the second floor is even grander, decorated with carvings depicting scenes from the life of Sakyamuni (Gautama) Buddha. The statues are made of silk mache and are hollow. Everywhere, one sees the glint of gold and the vibrancy of red, colors that signify prosperity and happiness.

Largest and grandest of all is this hall just off the second level. It is airconditioned on days when services are held. The Buddha statues here are large and dominant, matching the scale of the room, meant to inspire awe and reverence.

The Artifacts

Inside the temple are many things that are unfamiliar to non-Buddhists but, taken in context, are obviously ritual items. There was a drum that a saffron-robed monk beat in time to the chanting of other monks and worshippers. There was a red book with gold Chinese characters stamped on its cover (sutras?). There was a stick-like object that rested on the books, something that looked like a fan or a paddle, cymbals through which yellow scarves were knotted, and cinnabar-red squat carved figures beside which were padded sticks. Were the figures struck with the sticks?

I deliberately refrained from asking Mr. Tan, preferring to experience the environment as an observer, and trying to derive meaning from what was familiar, and gauging the extent of the unfamiliar. In this instance, much was an unknown quantity.

There were always offertory tables positioned in front of the images. The tables are heavily carved, some gilded as well. The tables bear offerings of fruit and flowers, because according to Buddhist tenets, “Only vegetarian offerings are allowed,” said Mr. Tan.

The Worshippers

Through observing their stance and actions in context, it can be seen how worshippers convey their sense of faith and participate in the rituals of their religion. Two women knelt in front of the Maitreya Buddha’s image holding incense sticks and waving them while chanting Buddha’s name. At the same time, at the second floor hall, monks held a service for a deceased man. The relatives were all clad in white, their culture’s color of mourning. Since no seats are provided, worshippers either kneel or stand and chant along with the monks.

The chanting was atonal, in a language I was unfamiliar with (Chinese, presumably), and sounded utterly alien to my ears. For that reason I found it fascinating; language is not an insurmountable barrier to understanding, because all that is required is a translation. On that initial exposure, the impression I obtained from the chanting was a sense of immense antiquity, that these words had been sung in this manner for centuries, the ritual kept alive by devotion and strict adherence to tradition.

Off that hall was a room where the dead man’s picture was displayed. Red marks pocked the picture “so he can breathe,” someone explained. On an offertory table were sweetmeats in covered glass dishes and plenty of fruit. Red lamps were lit. Just outside that room, people rolled paper into the boat shape of ancient Chinese currency, paper money for the dead to use in the afterlife.

Paper printed with gold Chinese characters, rolled into the proper shape, symbolize money for use in the afterlife. To show respect for the deceased, sacks upon sacks of these are laboriously prepared.

After the service, the portraits are moved to the ancestor worship hall on the ground floor, to be displayed beside the pictures of deceased persons whose relatives are waiting for a memorial service to be held in their behalf. Offerings of canned fruit are arranged in front of them – fruit cocktail, peaches, lychees. Chinese are practical; fresh fruit, they say, will spoil.

A woman lights joss sticks that she places in a large bronze urn, one of several placed in each of the temple’s many halls. The air in the temple is fogged with the heavy fragrance of incense carrying prayers to Buddha.

Inside the ancestor hall are serried rows of shrines that carried pictures of the deceased. Some are ‘double’ shrines for couples. A picture placed in the shrine frame denotes that the person was deceased; a plain red backing, that the person the shrine is reserved for is still alive. A fee is charged by the temple for the storage of the shrines – the more prominent the position, the higher the fee. It costs around one hundred thousand pesos for a central location for a shrine.

From time to time, people entered the hall, knelt before the shrines, said a prayer or meditated, and lit joss sticks before leaving.

Mr Tan also showed us pairs of red, kidney-shaped wooden blocks used in divination, a practice that dates back to China’s prehistory, when animal entrails were used to predict the future and reveal answers to questions. One throws the blocks up in the air; depending on how they fall, the answer to the devotee’s query is either ‘yes’ or ‘no’.

He often used the Tagalog word misa – as in Catholic Mass – to refer to their services. It may be the word actually used by Filipino Buddhists, or it may have been his way of making concepts easy for non-Buddhists to understand.

Overall, though I could not interpret a great deal of the information I was picking up from my surroundings, I understood enough and connected it with previously-read or gleaned facts and materials that enriched my appreciation of this particular environment.

I came away refreshed in spirit by the aura of peace and tranquility permeating every fragrant corner of the temple, fascinated by its art and history, and above all deeply appreciative of the warm welcome and acceptance extended by Mr. Tan and the others at the temple.

The Seng Guan Temple is along Narra Street, near Jose Abad Santos Street, Manila.

Click on a photo, and click again to see a full-size image.

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POP GOES THE WORLD By Jenny Ortuoste for Manila Standard-Today, 10 June 2010, Thursday

We Are Family

If the Philippines had a theme song, it would be Sister Sledge’s “We Are Family”.

Taking yesterday’s proclamation of senator Benigno “Noynoy” Aquino III as president –elect and of Makati Mayor Jejomar Binay as vice-president-elect at the Batasan Pambansa from a semiotic viewpoint, the theme of ‘family’ emerged as one of the dominant signs.

Present were children and babies held by nannies or parents, because it is part of Filipino traditional culture that significant celebrations be held with family.

Also in the hall were members from the several dozen ruling dynasties of the country. Some were incoming, others outgoing, elected or appointed public officials. Their faces and genders and credentials may change, but the names stay the same, election year after election year. We might as well be a monarchy with a hierarchy of nobility and aristocracy.

The Aquino family members received much on-camera exposure during the television coverage of the event. Noynoy’s sisters Ballsy, Viel, Pinky, and Kris were seated in a row, clad in black, showbiz celebrity Kris in a glamorous off-shoulder number, her older sisters dressed more conservatively. Apart from showing the difference in their personalities and fashion taste, the clothes were a sign of two things: that the customary one-year mourning period for their mother, the late president Corazon Aquino, is not over; and of just who their mother was, and her place in history.

President-elect Aquino, Enrile, and Nograles are joined by Aquino’s sisters and brothers-in-law. (Photo by Voltaire Domingo/NPPA).

By extension, their dark garb was also a reminder of the other family member they lost – their father, former senator Benigno “Ninoy” Aquino Jr., whose assassination may be said to have set this wave of events in motion, bringing an entire country to this point, where his only son holds the highest office in the land, borne to power on the crest of public sentiment for his parents.

This image references Kris’s hosting of game show “Deal Or No Deal”, which ended 2009.

Seated near the Aquino sisters was Shalani Soledad, Noynoy’s significant other, speaking to singer Ogie Alcasid. The showbiz family of Kris Aquino was well-represented too. It is from their ranks that the incoming president considers recruiting heads of government agencies – Boy Abunda for Tourism, Dingdong Dantes for the National Youth Commission, and Grace Poe for the MTRCB are some of the names he mentioned. Of course he makes these choices based on their qualifications, because it can’t be out of gratitude, can it, for their help in his campaign?

Shalani Soledad being interviewed by a radio news reporter. (Photo by Voltaire Domingo/NPPA)

In behalf of yet another prominent family, Senate President pro tempore Jinggoy Estrada read a message from his father Joseph. The senator extended his father’s “humble” acceptance of his defeat to Noynoy in the elections, and wished him well. From there the speech degenerated into a rant, citing the “failures” of Comelec and Smartmatic, stating again, as if we didn’t know, that the elder Estrada once served as president, and warning the Filipino people to guard against the corruption in government which he was unable to stem during his own administration.

There too at the Batasan were the Binays of Makati City. With son Junjun taking over from his father as Makati mayor, and daughter Abby the new congresswoman of the second district, they carry on decades of Binay administration in one of the country’s richest cities. The same goes for the Belmontes of Quezon City – father Sonny moves up from mayor to Congress while his daughter Joy steps in as vice-mayor to Herbert Bautista, who for years has held that same position.

We could go on and on.

But what about the families of the millions of people who gave the reins of government to these people via their votes? Who thinks of them?

As a citizen of this republic and the head of a family of my own, I lay this solemn charge upon the incoming set of political leaders – remember the families.

Think of the overseas contract workers who endure separation for years from their loved ones to toil in foreign lands to ensure the survival of their children in a country that cannot provide jobs and better life opportunities for them and their parents, while the government brags of a high GNP pumped by the billions of dollars they remit, ignoring the social cost and its consequences.

Seek to improve the lot of the widowed and children of those murdered in the Ampatuan massacre; those who die fighting on both sides of the insurgents’ war; those who live in hovels mired in abject poverty in sight of your grand mansions; those who cannot continue their education because of financial constraints.

Rescue those who are victims of abuse by the military and private armies and by those who because of the inflated condition of their pockets and egos assert their power over those who have little or none, since they thrive unpunished in a culture of impunity.

Filipino culture values family above all, even above God and country. The way we address each other reflects this – kuya or manong security guard, ate or manang food vendor, nanay, tatay this or the other. And how often have we heard someone say, “Gagawin ko ang lahat para sa pamilya”? A Filipino will do, endure, and sacrifice all, for the sake of family.

To our new leaders, do not forget you are Filipinos, imbued with this land’s culture and norms. Accept that you are members of a larger family – the nation. Perform your mandated tasks, bearing in mind that you have our trust, because we have nowhere else to put it.

Remember the Filipino families – not only your own.   ***

“My Brother’s Keeper” by Ronnie T. Tres Reyes. Top Five finalist, 2008 Philippine Charity Sweepstakes Office “Isang Pitik sa Charity” photo contest. Reyes describes his photo: “Taken one chilly night outside a McDonald’s along Mindanao Avenue in Quezon City. For over a year, this five year old boy has been taking care of his baby brother every night on the steps of the restaurant. Sometimes he lies on the concrete and allows himself to be the baby’s bed and source of warmth.”

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POP GOES THE WORLD By Jenny Ortuoste for Manila Standard-Today, 27 May 2010, Thursday

“Wawa We”

“Wow” is an apt prefix for the title of a show whose huge popularity spans the globe. “Wawa” (a contraction of the Tagalog word for ‘pitiful’) now describes the condition of the show’s host whose antics rocketed the program to the peak of the ratings charts.

Few local television programs have enjoyed the phenomenal success of ABS-CBN’s noontime variety show “Wowowee”. Over two hours long, the show features the usual song and dance production numbers, games, and other staples of Philippine TV. But it broke the mold by giving away more money and products than others and encouraging audience participation with atypical games and other gimmicks.

The cash handouts and scantily-clad dancing girls attracted immense viewership. Since it is carried by The Filipino Channel which broadcasts the network’s shows in the US, Middle East, and other countries, it has even gained foreign fans.

According to a Taylor Nelson Sofres Media Research Philippines report, on May 14, the show posted ratings of 18.1%, well above the 12.2% charted by rival “Eat Bulaga”, the long-running noontime program on GMA Network.

Much of the show’s popularity in its early days may be credited to its host Willy Revillame’s high-energy, down-to-earth performance. The show is said to rake in many millions a day for the network, with Revillame’s compensation at P1 million a day as he himself has said elsewhere. This wallet-busting figure does not include the millions more in fees that he earns from product endorsements.

Willy Revillame. (Image here.)

Sadly, one can’t buy manners or morals. When ABS-CBN’s dzMM radio host Jobert Sucaldito criticized Wowowee for creating a game played by students with low grades, saying in effect that this was fostering mediocrity, Revillame erupted. He called upon network management to fire Sucaldito, citing the big bucks his show was pulling in all due to his efforts. “Either he goes, or I go”, was the gist of what he said.

Jobert Sucaldito, host of dzMM’s “Showbiz Mismo”. (Image here.)

The staggering arrogance of that declaration hits you right in the sternum and cuts off the stream of oxygen to your lungs.

Revillame has been suspended several times from Wowowee and “Magandang Tanghali Bayan”, another show he used to host, for cussing on air. The potty-mouthed celebrity also earned public ire for his ungracious manners when he bawled out his own network’s traffic department – on air – for putting an inset of the live coverage of the late Philippine president Corazon Aquino’s funeral during a Wowowee episode.

Wowowee’s format has also been severely lambasted for fostering a culture of mendicancy. Many of its games revolve around making people do embarrassing things for money. It pains me to see game participants humiliated and taking it all, at a cost to their self-respect and dignity, because times are hard.

And the gyrating nearly-naked Kembot (shimmy) Girls? They are pretty and talented, and the show has made them popular and famous while dancing in scraps of fabric and heavy makeup. What message does this send to young girls? Never mind getting that college degree, anak, just be a Kembot Girl when you grow up? What signal does this send to men? That women are all about the curves and booty-shaking? Where’s the respect?

During the recent election campaign, Revillame, who endorsed Nacionalista Party presidential candidate Manny Villar, sent the Kembot Girls to the campaign rallies. Pro-women senatorial candidates Liza Maza and Pia Cayetano, dismayed at the skimpiness of the dancers’ costumes, asked them to dress more appropriately. Maza and Cayetano were running under the NP banner. Like the song says, “Isn’t it ironic?”

The Kembot Girls with Revillame (center) at a Manny Villar campaign rally. Screenshot of an ABS-CBN ‘TV Patrol’ report on the Maza-Cayetano complaint.

Does Wowowee have any redeeming social value whatsoever? Does it uplift attitudes, promote good morals, encourage excellence and self-sufficiency? Revillame claims his show “helps” people. Perhaps, in the way you give a man a fish for a day – and make him do tricks for it first – instead of teaching him how to fish. Does that benefit society in the long term?

ABS-CBN management, to its credit, ignored Revillame’s tantrums and refused to fire Sucaldito. Revillame stormed off for a vacation, leaving the show to co-host Pokwang, whose comic antics now account for much of the show’s drawing power, as Revillame descends into the maelstrom of believing his own spin. On May 15, action star Robin Padilla was given a chance to host; his stint ends Friday. The day he began, ratings shot up to 20.1%, proving that it’s not only Revillame who can steer the show and pull in viewers.

With public opinion against him, it’s significant that Revillame went on leave, asked ABS-CBN to release him from his contract, and apologized for his actions. After a meeting, the network announced that the host will not be released from his contract, which ends next year. Meanwhile, he is on indefinite leave from the show.

It’s painful to watch a person climb from ground zero to the summit of his ambitions, only for him to fall into the yawning crevasse of public contempt, toppled by his own ill-considered actions. It’s too bad that Revillame wasted his chance to make a genuine difference in people’s lives and institute positive values and attitudes.

Someone should take away the happy juice Revillame’s been drinking, before he hurts himself more. ***

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POP GOES THE WORLD  By Jenny Ortuoste for Manila Standard-Today,  13 May 2010, Thursday

election theme song

“I saw the sign, and it opened up my eyes, I saw the sign…” ‘The Sign’, Ace of Base (1994)

The recent elections showed with startling clarity how Filipinos choose their leaders. In the United States, which has a two-party system, people side with one or the other based on the principles each embodies. The Republican Party is seen as traditional, conservative, religious; the Democratic Party, liberal, progressive, secular. Their action plans and policies are in line with these characteristics.

In the Philippines, political parties are merely groups of politicos with the same agendas, not necessarily platforms, loosely cohering because of mutual need and perceived or contrived advantage. That is why jumping ship is done as expediency dictates. Since parties do not stand for a particular set of principles, neither then are voters used to electing leaders based on these criteria, but rather on personalities.

Our elections are, like American Idol, a popularity contest.

Logically, we should select leaders based on what they stand for, what they’ll fight against. Are they pro or anti the Reproductive Health Bill? Divorce? Secularization of the state? How shall they resolve corruption in government? The entrenchment of familial political dynasties? Obtaining justice for the victims of the Ampatuan massacre?

According to one of my professors at the University of the Philippines, an expert on political communication, it’s the masa (masses) vote that is crucial, via their sheer numbers. “There’s no such thing as a ‘middle-class’ vote,” she said. It is the masses that campaign managers woo with their eye-candy ads, celeb endorsements, and earworm jingles. Given that, did we vote based on how candidates will deal with issues?

Our elections were, like cars on weekdays, color-coded.

“I saw the sign…Life is demanding, without understanding…”

In semiotics, signs and symbols are codes that, when interpreted, may connote or convey a certain meaning in a particular context and culture. The French semiotician Roland Barthes further postulated various levels of meaning. For example, on a primary level, a label with a picture of a bottle of wine means ‘wine’. On a secondary level, ‘wine’ may connote ideas such as ‘health’, ‘luxury’, ‘fine dining’.

A young Roland Barthes. In his later years, he probably would have analyzed the signs in this photo – what do the robe and mustache signify?  Why was the shelf of books used as the backdrop?

During these past elections, more so than at any other time except during the 1986 snap elections, we have seen how the candidates were defined by their media machines and tagged with sometimes essentially meaningless ‘motherhood statement’ taglines to effect maximum audience recall.

These ideas as portrayed in ads were then further abstracted by voters into concepts until the realities of the candidates’ personalities dissolved. These were replaced by symbols stemming from people’s understanding of the how the candidates were portrayed in their own ads, and what roles these candidates may play in government and in their individual lives.

“I saw the sign…No one’s gonna drag you up to get into the light where you belong…”

In 1986, Corazon Aquino symbolized reform, change, and the overthrow of the dark and oppressive Marcos regime. Though her qualifications were assailed – “Just a housewife” – in the end it was the virtues that people perceived she stood for – “heroism, courage, martyrdom for Inang Bayan” – that carried her to victory in the polls and impelled the People Power movement.

In similar fashion, Noynoy Aquino as a person was reduced to a concept: “The only son of hero parents who will continue their struggle”. We don’t know that he will actually do this, but for many of us this is what he represents. Manny Villar was “The man once poor who will lift us out of poverty and give us houses while swimming through seas of garbage.”

Noynoy Aquino and his mother, the late president Corazon Aquino.

These ideas were further abstracted to symbols and colors. As mnemonics for easy recall, it was a good idea. But the tactic further distanced the person from the sign that connoted him. Aquino was yellow and the “L” sign; Villar, the orange check; Gilbert Teodoro, green. People asked each other, “Who are you voting for? Yellow or orange?” The idea of voting for the principles and platforms of people was mislaid along the way. Tossed, perhaps, into those seas of garbage.

Manny Villar, orange shirt, ‘check’ gesture, tagline…check.

Artifacts also became signs. One strongly identified with the Aquino-Roxas camp was the Collezione Philippine map shirt. I wore such a dress weeks ago – black with a yellow map – but not for political reasons. I simply thought it comfortable. A friend said, “So you’re for Noynoy!” I may or may not have been. But it struck me that my friend assumed whom I was backing in the polls by extracting meaning from the sign he took my dress to be.

Aquino wearing Collezione shirt with yellow Philippine map embroidered logo, fingers flashing ‘L’ (Laban – fight). If the shirt were longer and reached to his knees, you’d have my dress.

With the election results in, one Aquino supporter exclaimed, “Our country is now yellow!” A clueless listener might think this means our land is awash in urine. (True, if you consider those pink MMDA roadside urinals.) But to those aware of the context of the remark, it merely indicates that our new president belongs to the political team symbolized by that color.

Pink MMDA urinal. It has nothing to do really with the column. I just thought you might want to see what one looks like.

In this particular social exercise, signs and symbols played a highly significant part in fixing in voters’ minds characteristics ascribed to the candidates, whether or not these characteristics were actually possessed by that individual. Full spin is deployed in ad campaigns, that’s granted – they say what they want you to know. Yet there were deep levels of abstraction here that further obscured reality.

In the future, seek to discern the symbology and peel off the conceptual layers, from apparent to hidden, until you get to the true meaning at the core. Then you will know if you voted for a color, or for leaders with platforms and principles.

“It opened up my mind, I saw the sign!”   ***

(Photos from all over the Net, collected over time. My apologies for not being able to give individual photo credits.)

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POP GOES THE WORLD By Jenny Ortuoste for Manila Standard-Today,  6 May 2010, Thursday

The Invasion of the Jejemons

“mUzta nA pOw u. jEjEm0n aQ, kAy0w?”

Much has been made in the news media recently about the “jejemon” phenomenon – a style of spelling mobile phone text messages that leaves many people confused at best or angry at worst.

(Image from wheniprattletattle.tumblr.com)

There are many origin stories, one being that Jejemonese was developed to save on texting costs. The word “jejemon” comes from “jeje”, the Spanish spelling of “hehe”, denoting laughter; and “Pokemon”, the ‘90s Japanese anime featuring cuddly monsters. Perceived to be used mostly by teens and young adults of the lower socio-demographics, the current ubiquitousness of the trend has language purists and snobs up in arms, spawning “We hate jejemons!” groups on social media networks and other Internet forums.

Why are jejemons so disliked? Among the comments against them are that they are maarte, making things complicated rather than simplifying them; their messages are difficult to interpret, “which wastes time”; that they highlight mediocrity and incompetence in the use of language. Other remarks are more judgmental – “baduy, stupid, cheap” – casting aspersions on jejemons’ taste, intelligence, and economic power.

Snow Belarmino, a 21-year old female bartender, explains why she became a jejemon. “I’m an ‘addict texter’,” she said. “Jejemon is just a style of writing your text messages. It’s cute to text by adding symbols and changing the spelling of words. Nakakagana, sikat, cool, astig. I like doing it this way because it reflects my personality.”

How does she feel about the haters? Snow is calm; it doesn’t bother her. “Other people just don’t understand the format. Some people ask me to spell the normal way – my mother, a cousin. I adjust, depending on the person I’m texting to.” She estimates that among the people she knows, around 85% of teens are jejemons.

Is Jejemonese really so hard to understand? Its language base is Tagalog and it follows certain internal rules. Spelling is transformed. For instance, the first-person pronoun ako (“I”) may be rendered “aQ”, “aKoH”, “Ak0w”, and so on. Snow says this is “style”. There is heavy use of intercapitals, some doing it for every other letter; unusual symbols such as exclamation points and the rarely-used letters x, q, and z are sprinkled here and there, again for style; and symbols are substituted for others (the numeral zero instead of the letter O). Apart from style, one notices the almost excessive use of the honorific po in jejemon messages.

The difficulty of interpretation is present at the beginning, but I’ve noticed that over time, one picks up on the peculiarities of jejemon spelling quirks, which are fairly consistent for each individual. There is certainly a learning curve, which I don’t mind, as a communication scholar with a special interest in jargons of subcultures.

But others are not as patient or as curious. Facebook, to name just one social media network on the Internet, harbors many anti-jejemon groups. “I hate jejemon!” has 4,411”fans” (or “likers”, now that Facebook has done away with the “Become a fan” button); “Anti-jeje”, 4,869; “I hate jejemon ka pa jan! Ganyan ka nga dati eh!” 2,269; “Weh? Anti-Jejemon ka? If I know jejemon ka rin dati!” 1,325; “STOP using irritating language such as the JEJEMON language!” 459; “Jejemon Haters”, 24,713. By far one of the largest groups is named “GOTTA KILL ‘EM ALL JEJEMON!” with 167,587 – the population of a small city. Now that is scary.

(Image from facebook.com)

Jejemons, on the whole, remain unperturbed. One commented at a hater’s group: “Does this mean war? Not that I’m interfering, but aren’t you being rather harsh to jejemons? What’s objectionable with their words? It’s just spelling, isn’t it? They still use Tagalog. Aren’t you being bitter?” Of course, it was written in elegant Jejemonese.

Another jejemon set up a tongue-in-cheek Facebook group called “Jejemon Evolves to… Wakekemon!” with 1,994 members. “We are evolving – be afraid!” “Wakeke” is ‘90s hacker-speak and denotes laughter, just as “jeje” does.

Language has always been used primarily as a means of communication, but it is also a tool for self-expression.  Jejemonese has been likened to the American “leet speak” of gamers (which uses alpha-numeric symbols to save data ) but is not its exact counterpart. Leet is acknowledged to be more “intellectual” and used primarily by geekdom. American jejemonese is like this: “!f yUh t!yP3 Lyk3 DihS Don’t talk to me!” (It’s the title of a Facebook group with 824,267 fans), and is used mostly by non-geeks, non-techies, and Justin Bieber fangirls.

Dean Rolando Tolentino of the University of the Philippines College of Mass Communication says the rise of the jejemons is a symptom of the partitioning of society into sub-classes. For linguist Alex Maximo, the phenomenon is linked to hegemony: who has power, who doesn’t, and how the conflicts that arise from the concomitant societal stresses are expressed.

For writer Sarah Grutas, it’s a matter of exclusivity. “It’s like gay speak. (Jejemon) is a form of exclusive language – if you don’t understand it, you don’t belong to the group.” She scoffs at claims of jejemons being poorly educated. “They aren’t stupid, because they had to know the original spelling before they can transform it into jeje. In fact it requires more creativity to type that way. I won’t use jeje language myself, the same way I do not use gay speak. I therefore belong to the out-group.”

I agree with Sarah – jejemons are not dumb. In fact, I have less patience with those who voice their irritation of jejemons and claim to be better educated and more adept at using language, yet use words like kalurkey, a variant of kaloka. What’s with that?

Jejemonese may be considered by some to be the jargon of a sub-culture, but I don’t see jejemons as a true sub-culture. A sub-culture would be horseracing fans, for instance, with their salitang karera, or otaku anime fans. The meanings of their codes – jargons and gestures, the secret words and handshakes – are agreed-upon by in-group members in the pursuit of their activities and are understood only by them.

But jejemons come from many walks of life. Their spelling style that has grammar nazis on the warpath is just a fad. We’ve seen them come and go, from beatnik to hippie to jeprox. Then there was punk and chong and jolog. Now we have jejemons and their evolved forms the wakekemon. People will, in time, get tired of this and move on to the next “cute” fashion.

So chill, people. Next time you get a message like “mUzTah nA yEw poh?”, reflect, instead, on the fact that your jejemon friend is concerned about you and is asking politely how you are. Yes, the medium is the message. But let’s focus on the meaning behind the message, which is the primary reason we use language in the first place. aY0wZ p0w bAh? ***

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Here’s my first piece for a cultural studies column appearing every Thursday beginning 29 April 2010 on the Opinion Page of the Manila Standard-Today. Thank you to MST Opinion Editor Ms. Adelle Chua for giving me this chance, for believing in me.

POP GOES THE WORLD By Jenny Ortuoste for Manila Standard-Today,  29 April 2010, Thursday

Here Lies Myth

Natalie Merchant. Tori Amos. Cyndi Lauper. Kate Pierson of B-52s fame. Our very own Charmaine Clamor. These and other artists have lent their voices to a unique project- “Here Lies Love”, a two-CD rock opera on the life of Imelda Marcos.

Cover

The genius behind this ground-breaking work is himself one of a kind – David Byrne. He was prime mover of the ’80s new wave band Talking Heads; composer of the main theme from the film “The Last Emperor”, in which wailing violin evokes the haunted soul of a China long vanished; and, with ex-Roxy Music producer Brian Eno, creator of the singular album “Everything That Happens Will Happen Today”, a blend of electronic and gospel.

David Byrne (Net)

In collaboration with deejay and big beat musician Norman Cook (aka Fatboy Slim of the electronic dance hit “Weapon of Choice”), Byrne expresses in 22 songs his own take on the mythos of Imelda.

Fatboy Slim (Net)

The narrative of Imelda was evolved by her and those around her, conflated by succeeding events, until she became a creature bigger than life and entered world awareness. In one of his blog posts, Byrne tells of his visit to the Philippines in December 2005. He hoped “to catch and absorb some whiff of the Philippine ethos, sensibility, and awareness, by osmosis and conversation.”

In visits to Malacañang, Ilocos, and Leyte, he sees paintings of Ferdinand and Imelda Marcos depicted as “the ur-couple of the Philippines…the strong man and the beautiful woman”; Imelda as a “nurturing goddess”. Byrne is no naïve worshipper at the altar; he is aware of how much of her image was a deliberate manipulation. A chapel in Tacloban dedicated to the Santo Niño is “really, a shrine dedicated to herself,” he observes.

In a recent interview in Financial Times, Byrne relates his fascination in Imelda grew from reading that she “loved going to clubs like Studio 54 and had a floor of her New York townhouse turned into a disco.” Here was a person of power who created her “own little bubble world…I wanted to delve into what makes this person tick, what drives them, how they can be in such deep denial about some of the things they’ve done.”

The album follows Imelda from her girlhood until she fled the country during the People Power revolution, juxtaposed with the life of her yaya Estrella Cumpas. The 3,000 pairs of shoes are not mentioned. Six music videos are part of the project, using news and archival footage of a young and dazzling Imelda in her butterfly-sleeved ternos descending from airplanes, smiling graciously, charming world leaders.

The album is a treasure box of gems. Much of the lyrics are taken from Imelda’s own words. In “The Rose of Tacloban”, Martha Wainwright asks “what lies beyond tomorrow…?” Cyndi Lauper’s breathy vocals delight in “Eleven Days”. Charmaine Clamor is smokey in “Walk Like a Woman”, Kate Pierson’s distinctive voice engages in “The Whole Man”.  Disco, funk, and electronic dance energize; crank the volume high enough, you forget the subject and become immersed in the music.

Singer and songwriter Binky Lampano says “Here Lies Love” can’t be compared to Byrne’s other works. “Musically we are dealing here with other elements altogether. There are no ‘Talking Heads’ components. As a work, it’s a worthy project. The man went out of his way to come to our country to do his homework.”

As a historical artifact, the album is a keepsake. Advertising executive Leigh Reyes bought the digital edition as soon as it was released. An admirer of Byrne’s work, she says it is “strange to watch (footage of) a fuzzy black-and-white Marcos with a pensive dance track”.

And Byrne’s choice of Imelda as a subject? “She’s a global character,” says Lampano. “It’s not like Byrne went out of his way to look for her. She’s part of the world’s common currency as half of the ‘Conjugal Disco-tatorship’”.

Love her or hate her, Imelda and all that she is part of world culture. In the same way Filipinos have taken Western pop music and made it our own, with, for instance, insurgents in Mindanao call two opposing forces “The Monkees” and “The Beatles”, the world picks and chooses from our narratives to inform creative expression.

Thereby is mythos -  story – continually created, added on to, until boundaries blur, and art becomes a commonality. Here, indeed, in the music and the inspiration, lies love.

*****

The column title is that of an ’80s hit song by Men Without Hats. Lyrics go like this: “Johnny played guitar, Jenny played bass/ Name of the band is ‘The Human Race’/Everybody, tell me, have you heard?/ Pop goes the world.” and so on for more stanzas, where Jenny plays keyboard and Johnny drums, they have kids, they get into movies, they get their pictures in the magazines,  and so on.

In other words, Johnny and Jenny live a life within media, producing content for media, which is distributed to the world. The song’s narrative fits smack into what I want to explore in this column – culture, as created by artists, musicians, and other content providers, selected and filtered by the news media through agenda-setting processes, and distributed through a channel with global reach – the Internet.

Culture, as seen through the lenses of postmodernity and social constructionism, in many instances can no longer be strictly defined as “high” or “low” – the boundaries are blurred, and the Internet has the effect of making the homogenizing process much faster – in fact, so fast that we see it taking place before our very eyes. Via semiotics, we also see how incidents, people, places, etc. may become symbols or signs for concepts that already exist in the different national cultures, or may be appropriated to give meaning to new concepts that have entered consciousness through media consumption.

Yet this does not mean that culture around the world will become one bland mass, like a bowl of oatmeal. Each country’s unique cultural vision will still inform the content produced in that milieu, or provide inspiration to artists from elsewhere. It is the appreciation of the varied types of content that contribute to the creation of a global culture through media.

In this column I will look at what’s trending in world news, perform textual and content analyses as appropriate,  deconstruct concepts, and give insights into why this subject matter is relevant or irrelevant to Filipinos. In other words, the column deals with cultural studies informed by a multi-disciplinary viewpoint (anthropology, sociology, communication, media studies, psychology, etc.). It’s a social scientist’s way of bringing awareness of how global culture is becoming Filipino culture as well as vice versa (as in the way Imelda Marcos and Manny Pacquiao are now part of the world mythos).

Pop Goes the World – everything in the world will be popular eventually. ***

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Statement of the University of the Philippines College of Mass Communication Media Watch on the Hundredth Day of the Maguindanao Massacre (2 March 2010)

AGAINST FORGETFULNESS

A hundred days have passed since the massacre of 57 men and women, 32 of them journalists and media workers, in Maguindanao. While the principal suspect has been indicted, his petition for bail has been the subject of near-hearings and postponements, in a portent of things to come that’s not encouraging for the demand for justice for the victims.

The demand for justice is in danger of foundering on the shoals of the technicalities that– together with police collusion at the local levels in the killing of journalists, overworked prosecutors who fear for their safety, and the involvement of local officials and warlords— constitute the weaknesses of the Philippine justice system. There is also the information, relayed by one of the private lawyers helping prosecute the case, of witnesses being bought if not threatened, and of relatives being offered amounts that few mortals in the Philippine community setting can refuse in exchange for withdrawing their complaints.

Add public indifference and resignation, and the mass media’s own short attention span and susceptibility to the lure of reporting those events that help boost ratings and circulations to these problems and issues, and we have the potential for the massacre’s not only going unredressed, but what’s probably even worse, forgotten.

Forgetfulness is among the worst vices of a people whom the media have failed to provide information crucial to their lives. And yet, forgetfulness is the sure guarantee for the repetition of such atrocities as the Ampatuan massacre, the human rights violations–such as the Morong 43 atrocity that victimized, among others, former CMC Student Council Chair Jacqueline Gonzales–that continue to haunt this country, and the constant peril of authoritarian rule.

The schools and the media are among the institutions crucial to the fostering of the imperative of keeping in the public mind the need for justice in the Ampatuan massacre and for the making of a culture of remembrance. As we enter the fourth month since that atrocity, the UP College of Mass Communication renews its pledge never to forget and to continue to remind the public as well as its constituencies—its students, faculty and staff—that at this point in Philippine history, only the pro-active engagement of a militant people and a truly free and responsible press can prevent the many crimes that haunt this country from going unpunished and repeated.

Dean Roland Tolentino

FORMER CMC DEANS: Dean Luis Teodoro, Dean Nicanor Tiongson, Dean Georgina Encanto

FACULTY: Prof. Rachel Khan, Ms. Lucia Tangi, Prof. Marichu Lambino, Prof. Rosa Maria Feliciano, Prof. Lisa Carmelita Justiniani, Prof. Jane Vinculado, Prof. Melba Estonilo, Ms. Roxanne Cipriano, Prof. Alfonso Deza, Dr. Lourdes Portus, Dr. Jose Lacson Jr., Prof. Eduardo Lejano Jr., Prof. Roehl Jamon, Prof. Patrick Campos, Prof. Yason Banal, Prof. Danilo Arao, Prof. Elizabeth Enriquez, Prof. Libay Cantor, Prof. Lourdes Simbulan

LECTURERS: Ms. Daphne Canlas-Tolentino, Ms. Irma Mutuc, Ms. Almond Pilar Aguilar, Mr. Jose Reuben Alagaran, Ms. Malou De Guzman, Mr. Jose Gutierrez III

STAFF: Gina Villegas, Berinice Zamora, Arnel Aga, Raquelita Bacarra, Clarissa Concepcion, Marianita Cinco, Placida Sodoy, Irene Balucos, Luis Olid Jr., Virginia Rigo, Norma Dampil, Fortunata Mendiola, Romeo Perdigon, Ruben Serrano, Jonathan Beldia, Florencio Palma, Guillermo Lectura, Reynaldo Villaruz, Armando Hirao, Luzviminda Ileto, Janette Pamaylaon

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from Prof. Danilo Arao, UP College of Mass Communication

Independent filmmaker Kidlat Tahimik is this year’s recipient of the highest award given by the University of the Philippines (UP) to a media practitioner.

He will receive the 2009 UP Gawad Plaridel for his outstanding contributions to independent filmmaking on July 10 (Friday), 2 pm at the Cine Adarna of the UP Film Institute. UP officials will give him a trophy sculpted by National Artist Napoleon Abueva. As part of the ceremonies, he will also deliver a lecture on independent filmmaking.

The event is open to the public.

Inspired by the progressive ideals of Marcelo H. del Pilar (nom de plume, Plaridel) of the reformist newspaper La Solidaridad in the 1890s, the annual award honors a Filipino media practitioner whose professional integrity and commitment to public service are reflected in his or her exemplary achievements in print, film, radio, television or the new media.

Kidlat Tahimik was chosen for his excellence in the art and craft of cinema, as well as for pioneering efforts in introducing Philippine independent filmmaking to a global audience.

His independence as an artist is reflected in the non-commercial nature of his films, inspiring budding Filipino filmmakers to follow his example and to listen to their “inner duwende (dwarf).”

He joins past UP Gawad Plaridel awardees Eugenia Duran-Apostol (2004, Print Journalism), Vilma Santos (2005, Film), the late Fidela “Tiya Dely” Magpayo (2006, Radio), Cecilia Lazaro (2007, Television) and Pachico A. Seares (2008, Community Journalism).

Established by the UP College of Mass Communication, the UP Gawad Plaridel is supported by Coca-Cola Company and Unilever Philippines.

For verification and other details, please call Irene or Lynette at 920-6864 or 981-8500 local 2668 (UP CMC Office of Extension and External Relations). You may also send an email to upgawadplaridel [at] yahoo [dot] com.

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