Of parenting and flawed citizenry

There is a saying that the hands that rock the cradle rule the world. Added to this is the usual mantra about powerful women behind the success of powerful men.

This may indeed be true, for as we see Manny Pacquiao demolishes his rival on the ring, we are also treated to the image of his mother, Aling Dionisia, as she amused us with her dance moves and innate comedian instincts.

But while we idolize the caring and protective presence of the mother, on the other side is the marked absence of the father in most narratives, perhaps stemming from the stereotypical paternal image of somebody who is perceived to have authority but is distant, and who is assumed to have control but is silent. Manny Pacquiao's father is just a sideshow compared to the main event provided by Aling Dionisia.  

The dominant image of a mother is one of protective love, as somebody who will risk limb and life to protect her brood. But deeply embedded in all of these images of nurturing and love is the dangerous implication of an act of disempowerment hiding in the comforting warmth of maternal care.

Someone once told me that the definition of a sweater to a child is something that you wear when your mother feels cold. Indeed, mothers who feel chilly almost always assume that their children must feel cold, and insist that they wear thick clothing, without even bothering to ask. In the name of protective caring, they in turn deny children the right to make a choice.

And this is not just about sweaters. It's about the whole array of instances where they make decisions on behalf of their children, from what clothes to wear, to taking ballet, piano and taekwondo lessons. Of course, mothers don't mean harm. They just want what is best for their children. They want them to look the best and enjoy the best in life, but often they forget to ask their children and only base their decisions solely on what they think is best.

The political implications of this could be costly. When we grow older, we are now confronted with major decisions to make, some of which go beyond personal interests and may impact on the interest of others and the larger public. As citizens, we often gnash our teeth and wonder how we could make wrong decisions as we keep on voting for the wrong kind of politicians, even as we withhold our support for the right political causes. We blame almost everyone and everything, from the system to our culture to our historical past. But we seem to forget that one of the foundations of a citizenry whose decision-making capacities are compromised lie in the inner sanctums of our homes, in the everyday manner we rear our children.

We deny them the capacity to make choices, perhaps as a way to insulate them from suffering the consequences if they make the wrong ones. But it is in these practices of nurturing, of which we mean no harm, that we may also have jeopardized the emergence of a healthy and critical civic culture of our future citizens.

However, lest I be criticized for being anti-woman, of which I am most definitely not, the blame should not solely be heaped on mothers, or aunts, or yayas, all women, even as most of the child-rearing land on their laps. The relative absence of the typical father, of which there could be exceptions, also corrodes the attitude of ordinary citizens about power.

Paternal authority is one that is usually feared and obeyed, the one that has the last say, the one that is silent but is compelling. Mothers offer the comfort of being there. Fathers, on the other hand, offer the stability and security of silence. A typical patriarchal Pinoy household is perceived to be dominated by the image of the father that carries the metaphor of power and authority, and the dominant discourse that is embedded in the psyche of the young is one that exists along the ethic of fear and awe, and not of affection and love. Thus, the image of authority and power that comes out of this is one that is distant, but has to be feared.

This is the dominant construct that shapes paternal presence despite their relative absence. The father to the child, like the state to the citizen, is the feared but rarely seen or felt figure of authority. Thus, we have children denied by their mothers the right to choose in the name of protective love; even as they are provided stability and security by their absent fathers who bear their power and authority as coercive means that demand obedience, and not affection.

In the end, we eventually have citizens who could not make the right decisions, even as they have a distant relationship with the state and its instrumentalities, devoid of affection, dominated by fear, and even resentment for its being a necessary imposition and for having the monopoly for the legitimate use of violence.

We take so much time inquiring into the roots of a compromised citizenry, when in fact it could probably be found whenever mothers who feel chilly insist that their children wear sweaters, and whenever fathers, who are absent or not visible and are not affectionate, insist on their power over the household. — KBK, GMA News