'Krisis'

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WE KEEP hearing the word "crisis" these days so I wasn't surprised when UGAT (Ugnayang Pangagham Tao, or Anthropology Association of the Philippines) adopted "An Anthropology of Crisis" as the theme of its convention which, this year, was held in Miag-ao, Iloilo.

I was asked to deliver the convention's keynote address yesterday, and I thought that, since the Inquirer is always talking about crises, I should share some of the thoughts.

Filipino crisis

We tend to use the word "krisis" in the Philippines, which we borrowed from Spanish. Both Spanish and English use the word "crisis," so let's look at how one English dictionary, Encarta, defines the word:

"1. a dangerous or worrying time, a situation or period in which things are very uncertain, difficult, or painful, especially a time when action must be taken to avoid complete disaster or breakdown.

"2. critical moment. A time when something very important for the future happens or is decided.

"3. medicine. Turning point in disease. A point in the course of a disease when the patient suddenly begins to get worse or better."

Encarta says the word "crisis" emerged in English around the 15th century, via the Latin language, from the Greek word "krisis" (decisive moment), which comes from "krinein" (to decide).

Decisive action

Words do change in their meanings when they're borrowed. The way we use the word "krisis" is defined this way in the University of the Philippines' "Diksiyunaryong Filipino" [Filipino Dictionary]: "1. panganib, peligro 2: labis na pagdarahop o pagsasalat."

It seems then that we did carry over some of the Spanish and English connotations of crisis, particularly notions of danger, but we tended to emphasize an element of extreme hardship and deprivation.

Given these very intense definitions, it should not be surprising that our perspective of a crisis is to weather the hardship, to survive, to cope. When we do survive, we seem satisfied with that, patting ourselves on the back and congratulating ourselves for adapting so easily, for being so resilient. Why, we even compare ourselves to the carabao, hardworking, uncomplaining, plodding along. My retort here: We are not carabaos to be led around by the nose.

Opportunity

The English "crisis" and its Greek root word, emphasize that an important element in a crisis is the anticipation of decisive action, one that could result in a favorable outcome. The Chinese go a step further in their view of a crisis. The Chinese term for crisis consists of two words: "wei" and "ji." Wei means "danger" and ji means "opportunity." So on the one hand, while the Chinese share many cultures' equating a crisis with danger, they recognize the opportunity that comes with that danger.

It isn't surprising that American and European business strategy books like to refer to this Chinese term. A crisis becomes more of a challenge and an opportunity, which business people love. It is not surprising, too, that there have been so many versions of Sun Tzu's "The Art of War," a Chinese treatise on military strategy dating back to the 6th century B.C., which talks not only about preventing and dealing with crisis, but also about many situations that call for creating a crisis, to be able to move forward and resolve a long-standing problem.

Even more than business people, politicians thrive on crisis situations. It's not surprising then that politicians, especially those in power, will sometimes manipulate the situation to create a crisis, which then allows them to come through as the knight in shining armor (or, in the case of our present leadership, as the super-heroine Darna) ready to save the people from the very dire straits they led us into.

Melodrama

I worry that we are developing a crisis mentality, in a negative sense. We seem almost masochistic, looking for and deriving perverse pleasure from crises. Let me qualify further: maybe, it's a form of macho masochism, as we boast about how we go through one crisis after another, described graphically with male bluster: "kapit sa patalim," gripping the knife's blade to survive.

Crises provide materials for soap operas, and more. Our congressional circuses, with endless investigations, are the ultimate in terms of reality television. Then, too, there are the many charity programs where you can go and cry your heart out, talking about the latest medical crisis in the family. If you can't feed the masses, then entertain them, using their own hardship as material.

And what do all these do? They reinforce our notions of passive acceptance of the crisis. We shake our heads, throw our hands into the air, and say, "Pinoy kasi!" Or go off to a karaoke joint and sing "Habang May Buhay" [As Long As There Is Life). Sure, they're functional, helping us to cope, but there has to be limits to the melodrama.

I have to go beyond mere depictions of slum families where 12 children try to survive on instant noodles. We need to be asking ourselves why we've reached this dismal state, and what might be done here. Instead, after many of these documentaries, we end up blaming the victims themselves, or, at best, smiling at the quaint coping strategies they have.

I recently talked with Melba Maggay of the Institute for Studies in Asian Church and Culture. She told me about a study her organization was doing on micro-financing. She said she uncovered many success stories of women overcoming all odds with these small loans. She also shared some of the problems, such as husbands frittering away the income. In these times of crisis, we need more of those stories, told as it happened, warts and all.

We need to be able to prevent a crisis early enough, but there will be times when some crises will erupt. We inherit our problems, paying for the neglect of previous generations. So when a crisis does erupt, we need to be able to see this as an opportunity for resolving its root causes, including those that date back in history. A crisis will sometimes subside, but leaving the problems unresolved will allow the crisis to fester, waiting to erupt again in the future, vicious, gangrenous-perhaps, insurmountable.

We need to draw the best of different worlds, understanding from the Chinese wei ji the need to see the opportunities presented in a crisis, and from the Greek krisis, to know when the critical moments demand a decisive action.

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