HOTSPOT
Perhaps one of the first big political frustrations of my college contemporaries happened nearly three decades ago.
It wasn’t about a presidential election, but the selection of our paper’s editor-in-chief. Going into the selection process, we were confident that our aspirant had the edge. The staff was also primed to do more, having saved a lot of publication funds, invested in new equipment, and prepared to turn the paper into a weekly.
Our aspirant lost, and somebody else won the editorship. Many staff members remained, out of loyalty to the paper. But every single thing we had planned was lost, and the paper produced less and infrequently, no thanks to what proved to be a new editorial team that was, to say the least, inept.
We felt betrayed by the system, and thought that the selection committee was so stupid. But we soon had to make peace with and accept the results of the process that we participated in. What was important was that the paper as an institution would survive, and saw the many brilliant contemporaries, colleagues and editors do marvelous things ever since.
That sad experience didn’t kill our idealism, so to speak. Our aspirant went on to specialize in and later spearhead the university’s official volunteer program. Others thrived in the academe, civil society, communications, journalism, business, and other fields. Most turned out to be good people, and I think that’s outstanding.
I remembered this episode in the past few weeks, as we all braced for the new year. I was looking for disappointing life experiences, and also how my friends and I coped with them. I thought it was relevant to remember and to share.
An editorial selection process obviously pales in comparison with a presidential election or two. They cannot be more different as well.
But their outcomes can’t be any less disappointing or discouraging. (Besides, we can only feel sorry for the candidates.) In both, we have to live with the outcomes either as co-publishers or as citizens. What do we do in the face of defeat or adversity? Do we give up and abandon all hope?
Defeats or disappointments don’t make the world or life stop. Teachers must teach. Workers must create. Athletes must train and compete. Journalists must gather the news. Artists must make art. Intellectuals must impart lessons and humbly learn new things. The vanquished must lick her wounds, learn lessons, and mount a credible opposition. The victor must serve and deliver.
A draft of this column goes on a litany of controversial points about both the administration and opposition. But I obviously deleted that portion, because I have written about those points in many past columns.
What I have not written is this: Unlike politicians who only face defeats during elections, we face defeats on a daily basis, especially the poor who have the fewest choices and chances in life. Many cling to faith as the source of hope, some to family (whether the one they’re born to or the one they have chosen), others to individual aspiration. Sadly, there seems to be a gaping void with how we define success as a nation, and on who would have to work together to achieve such success — and how.
The new year of 2025, a Jubilee year of hope, presents an opportunity for us to try to fill that void, and find sources of hope to combat the gloom and doom. We can look to our personal and national heroes for inspiration, including our most inspirational and most committed icons, friends, and family who have passed on. It is possible to transform frustrations into lessons, and to turn past defeats into a staging ground for victories, but only if we run past the convenience of apathy and cynicism.
Frustrations, big and small, should not deter or define us. It is what we do and make of such frustrations that’s important.
(This column marks my 11th year as a Manila Bulletin columnist, and for which I am grateful to my editor, our president, and our readers. Maraming salamat po.)