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The recent launching of a book on the life and times of labor leader
Democrito “Kito” Mendoza, a towering figure of the labor
movement now slowed down by age and reduced to reminiscences, summed
up the sad state of the country’s trade unions today.
The book launch took place a few days after the
unremarkable celebration of Labor Day. The main guest at the book
launch was not the president of the republic but a former ward of
Kito at the Trade Union Congress of the Philippines (TUCP), PMS head
Cerge Remonde. There were other guests, a clutter of has-beens and
non-entities. During the old days, presidents of the republic would
personally ask for invitations to such affairs.
The book launch, lacking in color, drama and
energy, reminded the attendees of what Barbara Tuchman wrote in The
Guns of August on the funeral of England’s Edward VII. The Big Ben
tolled morning. But on history’s clock, it was sunset.
The glory of labor, or residues of it, was fast
fading into a compilation of memories.
What happened to the movement, which at one
point in our history can bring the nation at a standstill with its
relentless and sustained strikes, were all too clear, conveyed in
vivid terms by the lackluster tableau of Kito Mendoza’s book
launch.
The movement was hobbled by either age or aging
leaders. Cursed by the threat of irrelevance. A sunset sector with
no hope of springing a new lease on life. Groping for a role in a
society that has never heard of the Olalias, the Ocas, the Cids, the
Tupazes and those bloody but still romantic days at the picket
lines. And Belong de los Reyes and Ka Amado before them.
Who among the young still know the meaning of
“eskirol?”
A question now has to be asked. Which of the two
really matters, the sheer justness of the cause, or the commanding,
spellbinding gravitas of a labor leader?
Marxists have long argued that what truly
matters is the cause. The “conditions obtaining,” they say, the
concrete forces, the inherent contradictions between labor and
capital, the built-in antagonisms between the workers and the
employers.
With the conditions now more miserable for
workers now than the conditions decades ago, why can a single cry
from Ka Bert Olalia fire up the angst of workers across the nation
in the 80s? Which no one from the movement can do today?
Where have all the determined and spirited
marchers and strikers gone? Where is the fire in the belly, the
placards in bloody red, the headbands in black and red that
proclaimed courage and defiance?
The writing on the wall carries the usual
portent, Unite or Perish. Workers have apparently chosen with their
limp bodies and their dispiritedness.
To be fair, even the pro-government and
government-recognized labor centers and federations during those
days flexed real muscles.
Mr. Marcos, while he feared and loathed the
likes of Ka Bert Olalia, respected and took advice from Roberto Oca
and Johnny Tan, who led the TUCP and the Federation of Free Workers.
Every Labor Day, Mr. Marcos issued orders that
placated the restlessness of labor: wage increases, non-wage
benefits, funding for some projects initiated by labor. There was no
Labor Day celebration that he did not attend. He called them by
their first names. The top labor leaders had access to his direct
line.
Mr. Marcos even attempted to win over radical
labor leaders not with the Olalia camp.
On Labor Day, President Arroyo did not even
bother to hide her very low regard for organized labor.
Labor had no Labor Day celebration with the
president. There was no issuance from government to address even a
token concern.
While she sat at two regional wage board
discussions, she failed to drop the smallest of hint that she
favored a wage increase.
On what was clearly an afterthought, she asked
employers to provide rice subsidies. It was probably a cruel joke on
the workers, a sander cruelly applied on their open wounds.
We have run out of rice. Employers have to buy
it from Thailand. Or Vietnam. Or wherever.
Her chosen gift to workers was what she knew was
impossible to give.
mvrong@yahoo.com
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