Qwertyman No. 129: The Punishment Theory

Qwertyman for Monday, January 20, 2025

LOS ANGELES is burning as we speak, with raging fires consuming an area larger than the whole of San Francisco—or, in our terms, about seven times the size of Makati. I’m sure you’ve been just as horrified—and, let’s admit it, mesmerized—by the TV coverage showing huge swaths of what used to be thriving California communities crumbling in flames. 

Particularly compelling for onlookers is the awareness that many of those homes belong to Hollywood’s elite—people with millions of followers on social media but who, in their moments of personal distress (as in their divorces and run-ins with the law), often find it difficult to generate genuine sympathy. Not necessarily meaning to be unkind, pedestrians like us like to see the mighty (or their houses) falling; misery is a great democratizer. Even as the mansions of the rich go up in smoke, our first urge is to think that (a) they can always afford to build a new one, followed by (b) they’re just being punished for something they did wrong.

Indeed the “punishment theory” for the Great LA Fire has gained a lot of traction in social media, both within and outside the US. In Middle Eastern media, the fire was quickly seen as divine retribution for America’s support to Israel’s destruction of Gaza. As one Qatari journalist wrote, “The American aid squandered by the occupation [i.e., by Israel] in its Gaza war amounted to about $60 billion. The damage caused by the recent US fires has reached about $150 billion. Trump said a few days ago that he will bring hell upon the region, yet hell has arrived in the heart of the US, with hundreds of thousands of Americans displaced and thousands of homes and mansions lost. I trust in the vengeance and in the victory of the One and Only Almighty God.”

Not at all, said others—the fire had nothing to do with Israel but with Los Angeles, indeed California, itself. Again invoking the Almighty, Christian evangelicals rushed to proclaim the disaster “God’s punishment” for liberal licentiousness and its adherence to the false religion of “wokeness.” For being the land of hippies, Democrats, legalized marijuana, and Hollywood, California was now being chastised by an angry God. (Don’t believe it? Check Genesis 19:24-25Amos 4:6-11—sayeth the FB and Reddit faithful. I myself suspect that if God was fair and a keen follower of American politics, he would’ve swept Mar-a-Lago away in a tsunami or a hurricane. But then I believe in an indifferent God who doesn’t take sides in wars or football games.)

Whatever, there seems to be a palpable compulsion here to go and punish the wicked, who have only themselves to blame for their calamities. Never mind that the fire has ravaged both Democrats and Republicans, blacks and whites, Christians and Muslims, Asians and Europeans, rich and poor. To those outside looking in, it’s the “other” whose tragedy we celebrate, with the innocents as collateral damage.

The word often trotted out in these situations is that old German standby, “Schadenfreude,” meaning the delight we take in the misfortunes of others. It’s all over social media when you read about the LA fires, almost to the point of gleefulness over a kind of divine justice befalling the deserving (most notably, that of a fellow named Keith Wasserman—an Elon Musk fan and Cybertruck owner who had railed against paying higher taxes, and was now begging for private firemen to save his home). 

Of course, there’s nothing like crisis to bring out both the best and the worst in people, from heroes to heels. Harder to read and more difficult to assess than these extremes is the slow and steady burn—rather than the raging inferno—in our societies.

All this talk of retribution leads me to an odd and totally unscientific theory about people. I wonder if, in fact, there’s a more proactive form of Schadenfreude that goes well beyond a smug snicker at the missteps of the perceived elite to an active courtship of their downfall.

I’m speaking not as a political scientist or sociologist, neither of which I am, but as a sometime playwright who likes to look into the darkest and strangest of human motivations. That’s normally the job of psychologists, for whom I have a healthy respect, but if psychologists could put all their patients together in a room and find a way to make sense of their nightlong chatter, then we playwrights and fictionists would be out of business.

Here’s how it goes: 

We get bad laws like the pork-laden GAA because we elect bad lawmakers. And we elect bad lawmakers because we fancy that voting for people we think we know (like entertainers and dynasts) makes us matter. With the vote being the only utterance left to the voiceless citizen, choosing the familiar becomes an act of assertion, of participation in national affairs. “He may be a lousy leader, but I put him there.” Call it the revenge of the bobotante, a term we Pinoys coined for supposedly ignorant or forgetful voters. My theory is, they’re more cunning and deliberate than we think.

Many MAGA voters didn’t so much vote for Trump the man as for the grievances they bore that he had the smarts to amplify and articulate. A convicted felon, habitual liar, bully, and egomaniac, Trump was after all the very antithesis of the righteous and virtuous leadership that evangelicals especially like to uphold (not that they don’t have their own crooks and pervs in their uppermost echelons). If they were true to themselves, even his most ardent supporters would have acknowledged—and looked past—his monstrously obvious character flaws.

They voted for him nonetheless, because—on top of the price of gas and groceries—he embraced and legitimized their consternation and disgust with a world gone far beyond their comfort zone, peopled by neighbors who don’t speak English, who have sex with the same pronouns, who kill their babies, and who run races against runners with different genitals (and go to their bathrooms). How could Donald J. Trump be worse than these? 

Today DJT takes his oath as America’s 47th, as Los Angeles continues to burn. I wonder who is being punished for what.

Qwertyman No. 95: Till Divorce Do Us Part

Qwertyman for Monday, May 27, 2024

IS THERE anything about divorce—a bill legalizing which will soon be taken up in the Senate—that hasn’t already been said, or that most people don’t know? This was on my mind last week as I walked to school, wondering what my class of 20-year-old seniors thought about the issue. As young people likely to get married within the next five to ten years, they’re the ones who stand to be most affected by the outcome of the current drive to get the bill passed.

So I brought it up—we’re taking up argumentative or opinion writing, and how to handle contentious topics, and divorce was right up that alley. I didn’t tell them which side I stood on, although, knowing me to be a flaming liberal, they could have guessed that. I let them speak. Given that this was the University of the Philippines, and even factoring in the possibility that students tend to dovetail along with what they think their teachers believe, it was no big surprise that everyone who spoke up in that room did so in favor of legalizing divorce; if there was anyone in opposition, which I rather doubt, he or she chose to remain silent. 

Clearly, a majority favored the move, for the very reasons cited by the bill’s supporters. One student had a very personal take on the matter: “As the child of parents whose marriage was annulled,” she said, “I can remember all the things they had to do to get that annulment. The poor can’t afford it.” And economics aside, what did divorce offer that annulment didn’t? “The freedom to remarry!” everyone chimed in. (Correction: annulment allows for remarriage, but legal separation doesn’t.)

But—I said, just to probe a bit further—what about the argument that divorce will contribute to the break-up of marriages? “Those marriages are already broken,” said a student. 

But the Vatican opposes divorce, doesn’t it? (It’s the only other country in the world, aside from the Philippines, which doesn’t recognize divorce.) “Priests don’t get married. What do they know about marriage?”

At this point, I found it useful to introduce a fact that was news to everyone in the room. “Did you know that we used to have divorce in the Philippines?” No! Really? “Yes, a divorce law was enacted under the Americans in 1917. It was even expanded under the Japanese Occupation, and continued after the war until the Civil Code of 1950 abolished absolute divorce and replaced it with legal separation. Go on, look it up. I don’t know how many Filipinos actually availed themselves of divorce when it was legal—it would be interesting to see the statistics—but it’s not like we never had the option. It was there, but Church-supported politicians took it back.” Did the Filipino family collapse back then because of the availability of divorce? Show me the proof.

If this exchange sends chills up the spine of ultraconservatives who still think of UP as a haven of rebels, atheists, and devil worshippers, I’m happy to tell them that religion is alive and well in UP—the services in both Catholic and Protestant chapels are usually full. But so are reason and critical thinking, which to me remain the best antidotes to doctrinaire dogmatism, whether from the left or from the right. 

The Catholic Church’s steadfast resistance to legalizing divorce and my students’ apparent willingness to push back against that bulwark reminded me of a critical period back in the 1950s when UP was torn by a struggle between religious forces allied with the popular Jesuit Fr. John Delaney such as the UP Student Catholic Action and those who, like Philosophy Prof. Ricardo Pascual, believed in maintaining UP’s non-sectarian character. In the end, secularism prevailed, but at the price of Pascual and other liberal-minded professors being denounced as “communists” before the House Committee on Anti-Filipino Activities.

I’d like to think that a lot has changed since then, although sometimes things seem pretty much the same, given how the Red-tagging continues despite the sharply diminished power and influence of the CPP-NPA. One thing that has changed, at least in the public’s perception, is the presumption of moral superiority once claimed by a Church now embroiled in sexual and financial scandal. Its invocations of “divine law” or “natural law” in matters relating to homosexuality, contraception, and divorce sound almost medieval in a world that has largely moved in the opposite direction—something the conservative faithful will see as all the more reason to hold on inflexibly to their core convictions.

We can’t argue with those convictions, to which everyone has a right, but conversely, our people as secular citizens shouldn’t be subject to any religion’s doctrines when it comes to personal decisions that are no prelate’s or imam’s business. (And just for the record, I have no plans of divorcing my adorable wife, with whom I just celebrated 50 years of a typically mercurial but happily enduring marriage.)

I’ve written previously about my disaffection with organized religion, so that may provide some context; I do believe in God and in the value of faith and prayer in our lives, and in the right of others to practice their religion—for as long as they don’t insist that theirs is the only right way forward, and impose their way of life on me. If you want to stay married in mutual and lifelong misery because you believe it’s the right thing to do, fine; but don’t expect others to do the same, because their lives aren’t yours to mess up. Happiness is hard enough to find in this dystopic world we live in; let’s not make it harder for others looking for another chance at love and peace. 

I doubt that they’ll change the wedding vows—“For better or for worse, till death do us part” is always worth two people’s best shot, until worse comes to worst. But divorce should be an option better left to the individual’s God-given intelligence, conscience, and emotional honesty to sort out than to institutions more concerned with abstractions than reality. It’s ultimately a reminder of how human we are—people make mistakes, which can’t be corrected by prolonging them; we learn, we do better, and we live on. I think that’s what a just and kind Almighty would wish for his creations.

(Image from montanoflamiano.com)