The Death of Dreams, The Birth of Nightmares

The future is only as beautiful as the dreams of today’s children. All the comforts we relish today, all the freedoms we enjoy, all the wonderful technologies that keep us alive and driven to move farther forward, they are all legacies of the children who dared to dream big long before were born. And whatever beautiful breakthroughs shall be here tomorrow only depends on what today’s generation can come up with.

When I see pictures of Rome, Athens and the pyramids of Egypt, I can’t help but think of the dreams had by the children who grew up to build those cities and structures. When I see pictures of the New York Skyline, I think of the impoverished European immigrants who sailed across the Atlantic hundreds of years ago, most of them carrying nothing with them but their dreams and their promising children. When I see pictures of the Great Wall, the remarkable Chinese architecture and calligraphy, and the elegant clothes worn by the Chinese as early as 2,000 years ago, I think of the ancient Chinese children who dreamed of refining their own culture. When I see the filth of the Philippines, the beggars on Manila’s stinking streets, the murky waters of the Pasig River, the anarchic way by which illegal vendors occupy the two lanes of Commonwealth Avenue at night (until the Metro Manila Development Authority acted on the matter), the sewers that are always clogged, the coverless manholes, the potholed roads, the agony of commuting when the streets are flooded, the garbage on the streets, the garbage on the escalator steps of the MRT (Metropolital Rail Transit) Ayala station (which reveal that even the highly educated professionals in the country’s central business district have the shamelessness to throw away their trash anywhere), animal carcasses flattened in the middle of highways, the shanties under the bridges, and the 10 to 20 children who cram themselves in one small tricycle just to get a cheap ride to school everyday, I can’t help but think of the beautiful dreams the ancient Filipino children never had.

Albert Einstein taught himself calculus at the age of 12. That must have been in 1891. And in that year, how many Filipino twelve-year-olds were dreaming Einstein’s dreams? I doubt if any of them even heard the term calculus. If the legend is true, the legendary apple must have fallen from a tree and onto Isaac Newton’s head sometime in the 1660’s , when the man responsible for the Laws of Motion, Calculus, Universal Law of Gravitation and the Particle Theory of Light was still in his early twenties. In that period, how many twenty-something Filipinos had heard of Johannes Kepler, Nicolus Copernicus and Galileo Galilei –the giants on whose shoulders Isaac Newton stood? In the 19th century, when the likes of Thomas Edison and James Watt were dreaming of marvelous inventions, how many Filipino children were familiar with the concept of invention? Since that was a time when there were no public schools in the country, zero should be a safe answer. From 1521—the year in which the Spaniards supposedly discovered the Philippines—to 1896—the outbreak of the Philippine Revolution—what dreams did Filipino children dream? Aside from becoming corrupt politicians and wealthy feudal lords, I doubt if there’s anything bigger for those poor children to dream.

The painful truth is that the children of pre-20th-century Philippines never had the chance to dream most of the glorious dreams we have today, let alone the dreams of their western counterparts. But that truth is only painful in the sense that there is not much for us to cherish as a nation today as a result of our ancestors’ limited dreams. Had they had bigger dreams, perhaps their frustrations had also been much more painful. Even the dreamiest child would run out of good dreams if everyday of his life, the only kind of success he sees is that of corrupt officials and feudal lords. No wonder most of yesterday’s Filipino children either grew up slowly killing their beautiful dreams or nurturing the evil ones. No wonder the country is what it is right now.

There is still hope, though. Because compared to the people of wealthier nations around us, the Filipinos have been free to dream big for a very short time. Someday the dreams of today’s children may also be realized. Someday this nation may also be great. Maybe. Depending on what dreams our children today have. But what dreams do today’s children have? They dream of becoming the people they admire. But whom can they admire? Whom can they follow?

It’s bad enough that we do not have an Isaac Newton or an Albert Einstein for our children to look up to. The situation even gets worse when corrupt officials bask in the spotlight, their success broadcast on national television, all for our children to see, while our great scientists and artists fade quietly into their deaths, and into oblivion.

Not too long ago, Jun Lozada testified in the Philippine Senate against Comelec (Commission on Elections) Chairman Benjamin Abalos. The former alleged that the contract to establish a National Broadband Network (NBN) for the Philippine government was awarded to a company called ZTE because of the latter’s sinister machinations. As the senate hearings went on, several columnists pointed out that the hearings were an exercise in futility, that everything Lozada had done would lead to nothing but failure. And they were right.

A few years ago, a few enlightened congressmen moved to impeach President Gloria Macapagal Arroyo after an audio record of her phone conversation with Virgilio Garcillano (a COMELEC commissioner) was found. The conversation supposedly occurred during the course of counting of ballots in 2004-when Ms. Arroyo was among the presidential candidates, which was unforgivably unethical. Many journalists predicted that the impeachment attempt would be a failure. And they were right. The congressmen involved in the impeachment attempt failed.

In 2003, surveys revealed that former Senator Raul Roco was the leading candidate for President. By May 2004, when the elections were held, he was dead last among five candidates. The years 2003-2004 were among the saddest for Filipino idealists. That was a time when even the idealist supporters of Raul Roco swung towards Gloria Macapagal Arroyo because they feared that Roco did not have the political machinery to defeat Fernando Poe Jr.—a popular movie actor with absolutely no experience in governance. Many of them claimed that a vote for Roco would go to waste because he would certainly not win. And in a way, they were right. Roco lost.

Now I’m compelled to think of the heroes who fought for our freedom more than a hundred years ago. Jose Rizal, Andres Bonifacio, Emilio Jacinto, Antonio Luna, Gregorio Del Pilar and Apolinario Mabini dedicated their lives to the fight for freedom. Did the prospect of failure ever bother them? I’m sure it did. And I’m sure during the turbulent days of the revolution, not a few pragmatists advised them to throw away their dreams because they were bound to fail anyway. And the pragmatists were right. Jose Rizal was executed by the Spaniards. Bonifacio and Luna were executed by their own comrades. Emilio Jacinto died of Malaria while leading a group of brave Filipino soldiers in Laguna during the Philippine-American war. Gregorio Del Pilar was killed by the Americans in battle. Apolinario Mabini was exiled. Should they have thrown away their dreams before they even attempted to realize them?

What if the Philippine Revolution never happened? What if Jose Rizal never wrote Noli Me Tangere and El Filibusterismo (the two novels that sparked the revolution)? What would we tell our children when they ask about Filipino heroes? Who would be there for our children to emulate? I know many of our heroes failed. But I am grateful for their attempts. Because had they not done anything at all, I would have grown up feeling absolutely no sense of national pride. We all would have grown up feeling no sense of national pride. They failed. But their failures matter. Because of them, there are still a few good men who work honestly and efficiently in government. Because of them, there are still soldiers who die for their country. Because of them, there are still teachers who teach in far-flung barrios, notwithstanding the threats of malaria and abductions by rebels. Because of them, there are still poorly paid Filipino judges who make the justice system work. Because of these failed men, there are still impoverished cops who run after the thugs, and not with the thugs. Because of them, there are still patriotic entrepreneurs who still continue to invest here instead of bringing their money to another country. Because of them, there are Filipino children today who still DREAM of becoming good men and women tomorrow.

The hearings on the NBN scandal and the impeachment attempt against President Arroyo in 2005 may have been failures. But these are failures that will forever matter. These failures will inspire. Because of them, tomorrow will never run out of good men and women who will take a stand against corruption.

Sometimes, when I think of witnesses like Jun Lozada and the congressmen who tried to impeach President Arroyo, I can’t help but compare them to test pilots. When a test pilot climbs into the cockpit of a newly designed aircraft, he doesn’t know if he’s going to survive the flight or not. But he’ll certainly fly the damn thing. When the flight is successful and the pilot lives, everyone below celebrates and can’t wait to rub shoulders with triumphant pilot. But if the aircraft explodes in midair, even if it’s not the pilot’s fault, the people below—the engineers, mechanics, financiers and spectators—would do anything to dissociate themselves from the failed flight attempt and the heroic pilot’s name would end up buried in oblivion. Yet, no matter how many test pilots die, the world never seems to run out of them. Because as long as children can see the planes that fly, there will be children who’d dream of flying. As long as they can see the courage of the test pilots, they would have a reason to be courageous themselves. As long as children can see heroes, there will be children who’d dream of becoming heroes. When a plane crashes down, the right thing to do is not to quit flying but to build a better plane. When heroes fail, the right thing to do is not to stop being good but to be better.

Which reminds me of Raul Roco’s defeat in the 2004 presidential elections. When Roco’s supporters voted for Arroyo just to avoid a Fernando Poe Jr. presidency, they forgot two important things about voting. First, voting is not just a matter of letting someone win a government post. To vote is to take a stand and let that stand be counted. Second, why, in the first place, were there so many people eager to vote Fernando Poe Jr. for president? (I don’t mind the fact that he’s an actor. What I can’t stand is the thought that many of those people who voted for him did so because he was a popular actor.) It’s because so many children of yesterday grew up dreaming the wrong dreams. If none of us could stand for our right dreams today, if all of us would be afraid to fail, if none of us could vote for the candidate we truly believe in, how can we expect the next generation to have better dreams?

When we talk of dreamers, we should not only remember the ones who were gifts to mankind. Because the worst atrocities in human history were committed by the most passionate dreamers. Julius Caesar, Alexander the Great, Atilla the Hun, Napoleon Bonaparte, Joseph Stalin and Adolf Hitler. What do these men have in common aside from unspeakable terror upon mankind? They all lived in environments wherein the ultimate form of success was either victory in war or triumph in politics. And being the passionate dreamers that they were, they aimed for nothing less than the ultimate success.

When the Roco supporters opted not to vote for him because they feared that his political machinery was too weak compared to those of Arroyo and Poe, they were essentially handing the gift of success to Gloria Macapagal Arroyo, a success that the children of today would also want to have someday. None of those voters should be surprised then if the next generation produces ten new Gloria Arroyos and zero Raul Rocos. When we silence all the Jun Lozadas, we let the corrupt rule our land with impunity. And tomorrow, no one should be surprised if the innocent children become the corrupt rulers of the land.

I wonder what kind of dreams Osama Bin Laden had when he was a child. Maybe the young Bin Laden had often heard about the adventures of Francis Drake, the British pirate who was knighted for sinking Spanish ships--many of them merchant vessels manned by helpless, impoverished civilians—and despite the fact that he had raided African villages to capture slaves he would later sell to his wealthy compatriots. Maybe the little Osama thought that if a British pirate who had brutally killed innocent sailors and enslaved poor African villagers could be knighted, his own acts of terrorism might also compel the world to eventually address him someday as Sir Osama.

I wonder what kind of dreams the children of Iraq had when the country was under Saddam Hussein. Maybe some of them were thinking, “If a man like Saddam could be called a President, I might as well be the next Saddam.” I wonder what the children of today’s Iraq are dreaming. Maybe some of them are saying, “If a warmonger like George W. Bush could become President of the world’s most powerful country, I might as well become the George W. Bush of my own country.” I wonder what the children of Gaza are thinking. Maybe some of them are thinking, “If those men who bomb our homes can be called soldiers, I might as well be the fiercest soldier for my people.” I wonder what the other children of Palestine are thinking. Maybe some would say, “If all those citizens of other countries couldn’t give a damn about our dreams to live in peace, why should I ever care about their own dreams?” I wonder what all the impoverished children of third world countries are thinking. Maybe some are saying, “If life can’t offer me any job that’s more fulfilling than being a rebel or a terrorist, why shouldn’t I get the best job I could have?”

Walking on the streets of Manila, I still held the empty can of cola in my hand until I could find the nearest garbage can. As I walked on, several bystanders stared at me incredulously. They must have been thinking, “Why can’t this stupid guy just dump his trash on the streets like most people do?” And I was thinking, “Why can’t I just give up my dream of having a clean Manila? How much cleaner would the city be because of one piece of trash that I refuse to dump on the street?” Sometimes, it gets really exhausting.

I hope there are more dreamers out there. Ones who are stronger, brighter and more powerful than I am. I hope there are more people out there who can show the children of today that there are good dreams to dream. I hope they would never grow tired of their own beautiful dreams.

Because when all good dreams die, the worst nightmares are born.