The politics of the middle finger

When Mayor Sara Duterte of Davao City mauled Regional Trial Court Sheriff Abe Andres during a demolition operation last July 1, 2011, she could hardly have imagined the backlash that resounded beyond the borders of her city. That’s just the beginning. Her father has now come to her aid lambasting the multitude of perceived detractors with his brand of brash politics, the politics of the middle finger. And he could care less of the outcome of his action because he is cocksure that whatever he does require no alibis or excuses. Without hesitation, during a Q&A, he pricked a pack of unsuspecting probers with his middle finger. Why the middle finger? Well, the tale of the middle finger is an old tale that has been told before but I want to tell it again. However, I want to tell it differently this time. You see, the middle finger is not just a finger. It is the impudent digit that normally provokes the ire of others. The Greeks flick it to insult another person; the Romans flip it to disrespect another person; and the British stick it to mock the French. It is said, that the French used to cut the middle fingers of British archers, and so, the replacement archers would taunt them, that is, they can still shoot them with arrows. But the middle finger of acting Davao City Mayor Rodrigo Duterte causes more excitement than anger especially from the residents of the city. How is this so? How is it possible for an obscene hand gesture to evoke political admiration from its constituencies? On a personal level, one can conveniently explain it as his way of running a city or it is his way of ending a conversation or it is his way of telling the muckrakers 'to go to hell'. In our case, it is the balance between Machiavellian fear and love. Should we fear or love our leaders? In a country awash with leaders with limited imagination and who notoriously employ fake love and terror to enrich themselves in power, the Dutertes stand out as a rare political breed who, to my knowledge, have not enriched themselves in power and who successfully instilled fear not for its own sake. As a non-Dabaweño who visited the city several times, I can say that they’re not by any stretch of the imagination, Machiavellian freaks. They’re both feared and loved by the Dabaweños. I’m sure many will contest my anecdotal observation. Maybe because they find my arguments reprehensible, or they already know better, or they simply abhor the Dutertes to death. Whatever the case, I can only apologize for having wasted their time. But in the end, what matters is not the complicated analyses that many critics both in high and not so high places have idealized in their political soap boxes. For me, the argument is much simpler, it is what the Dabaweños say about the peace and safety of their city. In a country, where cities have not found peace and safety, peace and safety have finally found a city. And it is in the largest city of the Philippines.