Wakes, funerals and the Pinoy

DEATH rituals for a Christmas column? I have to admit I had many second thoughts before doing this column, but then deaths and funerals took center stage in this year's Pinoy Christmas, so it would have been even more inappropriate to shunt these events aside.

On the eve of Fernando Poe Jr.'s funeral, I got a text message from ABS-CBN's Catherine Cornell, requesting if I could go to the TV station at 10 p.m. for a live interview about wakes and funerals in Philippine culture. Catherine has that knack for identifying new angles to a story and her request -- which, unfortunately, I couldn't accommodate because of family obligations -- did get me thinking about how central to our culture death is, together with its rituals.

Bear with me now as I go into a long and occasionally antiseptic explanation of death rituals before going back to FPJ.

Necropolitics

Death rituals are important in all cultures, with one main objective: a way to bring together relatives and friends for a communal coping with the feelings of grief and anxiety. The rituals vary with each culture, reflecting differences in social circumstances. Western death rituals, for example, are usually very solemn, mainly allowing expressions of grief, through ceremonies that are simple, private and brief. In contrast, many cultures, including our own, have much more elaborate and protracted death rituals, allowing as many people as possible to participate.

Our death rituals become public performances with two extended objectives. First, it is a chance for different people to establish their relationship to the deceased and to stake their claims from that relationship. One of the most dreaded fears at Filipino wakes is the sudden appearance of the deceased's (usually the male's) other families. The emergence of other wives, together with the corresponding "Juniors," is dreaded because it means there are more claimants to the inheritance, often complicating a situation where -- even among the legitimate children -- there are already simmering rivalries.

The second objective of these public performances is for the bereaved family to validate their status in society. From the language and style of the obituaries to the choices of coffins and a burial place, the family is conscious that they have to live up to public expectations. Failure to meet those expectations could mean losing face while a grand spectacle could boost the family's standing.

The death of a celebrity or politician is more complicated, the death rituals now taking on more public functions. Given that FPJ was both actor and politician (albeit a reluctant one), it was not surprising that his wake and funeral became, as one radio commentator put it, "a last full show." Despite appeals from Susan Roces and other relatives to leave politics out, it was inevitable that FPJ's death rituals would be so eminently political. Death sparks off politics, necropolitics, within the family; and, with a person like FPJ, throughout the nation-the mourning mixed with the jostling for status and power.

When the dead live

Filipino death rituals are noisy affairs, almost rude and blasphemous to the outsider; and they include drinking and gambling during the wake. I was myself shocked watching FPJ's funeral: you could barely hear Fr. Sonny Ramirez as he did the final prayers at the North Cemetery because the background noise was deafening, as much as you would hear in a wet market, no, in a cockpit.

Observing death rituals gives us many insights into our culture. We deal with misfortune by joking, almost as if to trivialize the bad. With death, we become celebratory, literally calling on friends to eat, drink and be merry.
It is almost as if we scoff at death, bringing the dead back to life. During FPJ's necrological services, Dolphy transformed his eulogy into a stand-up comedy act, almost poking fun at FPJ. And when former President Joseph Estrada broke out in tears while viewing FPJ's remains, the people in the church broke out in applause.

Wakes and funerals allow us to involve the dead in acting out and validating social mores. The applause that greeted Erap's weeping was a way of saying, hey, Mister Macho, it's okay, it's admirable for you, and for other men, to cry for a friend.

Our long-winded eulogies are intended not just to pay homage ("parangal" in Filipino) to the dead, but to extol the ideal, what society wants to see among the living. This was where the eulogies for FPJ, stripped of the rhetoric, were important as a way of feeling the national pulse. Most striking was the way FPJ was praised for his loyalty to friends, his magnanimity and simplicity, three traits that I'd always thought were incompatible in a Filipino politician.

In this latest necropolitics, FPJ was presented not as FPJ alone but as a contrast to traditional politicians. The popularity of the story of FPJ's packaging relief goods and his refusing to have his name attached to the packages should be a signal to other politicians, the president especially, of how the public defines sincerity and leadership.

Mass catharsis

The massive crowd that showed up for FPJ's funeral probably included various types, including the plainly curious. Generally though, it was the poor, the dispossessed -- many of them simultaneously FPJ movie fans as well as FPJ-for-president supporters who poured into the streets.

Unlike the crowds that flooded the streets for Ninoy Aquino's funeral in August 1983, FPJ's mourners were not an angry lot, mainly because FPJ was not the victim of violence. They were discontented, certainly, but the mourners' frustrations converged with a real love for FPJ, which could help to explain why trouble did not break out. With such a large crowd, provocateurs from the government or from the opposition could have easily triggered a bloody melee, as they did with Edsa III. Wednesday's crowds were unruly and the marshals were often at wits' end trying to keep them in place, but they were also policing themselves. Our funerals may be festive, but they also have their own decorum, in deference to the deceased.

For now, President Gloria Macapagal-Arroyo should be thankful to FPJ and to Filipino culture: precisely because our oh-so-irreverent death rituals allow mourning and celebration simultaneously, FPJ's ended up as a timely safety valve, allowing mass catharsis. The poor have wept for FPJ and for themselves, and feel better -- for now.

FPJ had no heir apparent, and the opposition is sharply divided by ideology as well as personal ambitions. But, again reflecting about necropolitics, it was during these nine long days of death rituals for FPJ that the nation noted the calm strength of FPJ's widow, Susan Roces. The real power play might yet be coming, now that the funeral is over.