Perspective

Much has been said about the devastation caused by super typhoon Yolanda, yet they probably do not do justice to what actually transpired. As always, there are the pictures that paint a million words — visuals not only of decimated structures and crumbled infrastructure but more strikingly of hapless, seemingly hopeless survivors seeking aid and assistance. But in this particular instance, I am not certain if the photos truly capture the physical and emotional turmoil wrought by this tragedy.

As I write, the blame game is in full swing —be it on the issue of adequate preparation or the efficiency of the relief efforts — yet at this point, this debate is really more academic than real. Those who are in a position to help, Should (full stop). While those who are only able to provide lip service at the moment should perhaps save their words until a time when the victims’ needs have been met and the situation has normalized. 

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Let me try to provide context to our discussion. Despite technological advancements and innovations, man is still unable to truly control nature. While we have gotten better at predicting natural disastrous occurrences, we are still unable to calculate impact so that in certain instances, the most we can do is to “batten down the hatches” and pray for a swift passing. For in the throes of nature’s wrath we are reduced, from kings to kin, brothers and sisters, regardless of class or creed, joined by a singular purpose: survival.

The days before the disaster, the nation was caught up in several man versus man conflicts such as the pork barrel scam. This has now been placed in pause in light of the current struggle between man against nature. This is a constant literary theme found in the novels of James Clavell where a natural disaster is utilized to showcase mankind’s “puniness” in the face of nature’s strength.

Once again, it is difficult to find meaning in this most recent tragedy. So much senseless death and suffering. Is this part of some divine plan or perhaps divine retribution for the scams involving public funds that had been our daily media fare?

William Goulding’s Lord of the Flies also comes to mind. The 1954 novel tells a tale of shipwrecked British boys left to fend for themselves on an uninhabited island. Like the movie Castaway several years later, the story is a poignant reminder that at any moment and without warning, our comfortable lives can be stripped away. And the longer the boys remained on the island with all hope of rescue dwindling, the stronger a lawless spirit of anarchy. This is the other side of the spectrum touched upon in an earlier article about Orwell’s Big Brother metaphor. The latter afforded the State too much power and led to dystopian results. The former shows what might happen if we remove authority altogether — which is equally disastrous. I thought about these two extreme situations when I heard the news reports of pillaging and looting in Leyte. It would seem Goulding’s somewhat pessimistic outlook on human nature has proven true. Still, I am of the belief that the good in people outweighs the bad, and that for every rioter or looter, there are more individuals ready and willing to lend a helping hand to those in need.

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Let me share part of a colleague’s perspective as far as the Yolanda tragedy is concerned. Based in Manila now but born and bred in Tacloban City, she flew to her hometown last Monday to see what had become of her family, loved ones with whom there was absolutely no contact since the storm hit: On Facebook, the comments range from the vitriolic to the sanguine. I’ve refrained from criticizing any approach as people react in different ways, mourn in different ways. However, I definitely feel aggrieved when I hear unconfirmed double (and triple) hearsay about negative things back home (like the detailed story of a friend’s dad being killed, stabbed at home by a looter, which circulated but turned out to be totally false after it had caused the family unspeakable grief). Would that people think twice about putting things out there that only make matters worse. But let me concentrate on the positive for the moment. For the past week, I relied on (and continue to rely on) the kindness of strangers on the streets of Tacloban and on the phone lines of Manila to get help to friends and family back home. The guy who gave my friend and I a ride on his motorcycle so we didn’t have to walk in the sweltering heat from the airport to the city; the teenager who gave my aunt his only bottle of water; the stranger who lent my uncle his cell phone so my uncle could text me that he was stranded at the airport; the soldier who helped my brother lift my 100-year-old grandmother into the crowded military plane — these are the people I choose to honor and to cite. My own personal heroes. So yes, there is social as well as natural distress in a city I continue to love but can hardly recognize. Yes, there is violence in some quarters and incompetence in others. But there is also unbelievable empathy, generosity and consolation from the most unexpected of sources. I choose, at this point, to cling to the light and the hope that it will overcome the darkness.

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So while much was taken, much abides. And this is where the importance of maintaining the right perspective and attitude comes into play.

As a final literary thought, let me recount the last lines in Thornton Wilder’s Bridge of San Luis Rey which sought to explain the unexplicable — why five people plunged to their deaths after a rope bridge they were crossing suddenly broke: “There is a land of the living and a land of the dead and the bridge is love, the only survival, the only meaning.”

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“We can complain because rose bushes have thorns,

or rejoice because thorn bushes have roses.” 

                                             — Abraham Lincoln

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