Between the Lines
What’s Wrong with Commissioner Popoy?
by John Rey Amestoso
Does the University of the Philippines’ (UP) longstanding role as one of the nation’s epicenters of social criticism undermines its ability to fulfill its mandate to deliver public service to the Filipino people?
This was the question I grappled with when I heard the commencement address of Prospero “Popoy” De Vera III, the chairperson of both the Commission on Higher Education (CHED) and the UP Board of Regents, to the UP Manila Class of 2024 last July 26. His message to the graduating class was compelling, probably inspiring, to unsuspecting ears as he flaunted public service and national leadership as platitudes. However, upon closer examination, I would argue that the Commissioner’s speech contained dangerous implications that are directly at odds with the principles of UP education.
The UP Manila administration’s decision to invite him as this year’s guest speaker is questionable and must be condemned, considering that the higher education commissioner has been embroiled with a long list of anti-student policies. For instance, in 2021, progressive groups slammed CHED for its stance on flexible learning that further institutionalizes unequal access to education. Likewise, earlier this year, the Commission was also criticized for its memorandum directing state universities and colleges to discuss the discontinuation of senior high school programs, affecting thousands of impoverished students.
Popoy’s Idea of Public Service
In his speech, De Vera urged UP Manila graduates to use their academic excellence toward serving the interests of the Filipino people, especially those at the margins, and that UP education should contribute to the positive transformation of their lives. While I agree with this view — embodied in the call of “para sa bayan” — I find it ironic that he laxly makes such declarations while simultaneously implementing neoliberal education policies that negatively impact those same marginalized groups that he supposedly wants to uplift.
Even more, while listening to his address, I was alarmed by his insinuation that the UP’s position as a leading social critic restricts its ability to render public service. “Unfortunately, many in the university have defined public service in being a social critic,” De Vera remarked.
Unfortunately. What did he exactly mean by this?
Was this what he meant when he asserted that the 1989 UP-DND accord, which prohibited the presence of state forces within the premises of the university to prevent military abuses, was “destined to be problematic”? In the unilateral abrogation of the Accord in 2021, De Vera positioned himself as a broker between UP and the Department of Defense. But by harboring such a play-safe stance, he, as the chairperson of CHED, had effectively failed to uphold the agency’s mandate to protect academic freedom — ignoring countless cases of student harassment, abduction, and killings at the hands of state forces.
Similarly, was this what he meant when we heard no objection from him to CHED’s membership in the National Task Force to End Local Communist Armed Conflict (NTF-ELCAC), a “counterinsurgency” agency notoriously known for red-tagging and endangering the lives of youths and students with progressive views and ideologies? No less than the Supreme Court, the highest Court of the land, declared that red-tagging is a threat to life, liberty, and security. By mere membership in the NTF-ELCAC, the Education Commission is once again used by the state as an instrument of oppression to cultivate docile scholars subservient to the whims of the elites controlling the government.
Lest that we forget, CHED also backed the proposal to revive the Reserve Officers’ Training Corp (ROTC) in universities and colleges. Unlike the common belief forcibly perpetrated by government officials, ROTC does not instill a sense of patriotism in Filipino students. Rather, it creates an environment of corruption, violence, and impunity, as was the case when it was abolished in 2002 following the brutal killing of Mark Welson Chua, a University of Santo Tomas student, by his fellow ROTC cadets after exposing the program’s abusive practices.
Serve the Government?
Popoy claimed that he recognized the critical function of the university as a watchdog “to keep the government on its toes.” But how can we believe this is the case when he has repeatedly proven to be an accomplice to student repression and imperiling academic freedom?
Despite maintaining that he understood the importance of social criticism, I suspect between the lines that De Vera, as an agent of the state, only wanted to recruit and confine the new graduates within the bureaucratic structure of the government, disingenuously using the name of public service as a flimsy bait. This suspicion was further reinforced when he delivered a similar message to the graduates of UP Los Baños, where he casually stated: “Hihintayin ko ang panahon na sasabihin din nating iskolar ng bayan, nagsisilbi sa pamahalaan.”
Occupying government positions to serve the people is commendable, but it is vastly different from serving the government. The former stems from one’s own determination that their skills and conditions best fit the bureaucracy, while the latter requires deference to the state — which, in the Philippines’ situation, is the primary player in violating the fundamental human rights of the Filipino people. Many UP alumni before us have already fallen into this trap; some are unashamedly on the pedestal of government service today.
De Vera’s commencement address reminded me of the 18th UP President Francisco “Dodong” Nemenzo, an activist and a foremost social critic, when he said:
“When the technocrats pay a passing tribute to the enduring value of liberal education, they apparently mean the need to provide basic intellectual skills and to impart basic knowledge to the future technicians. I doubt if they truly appreciate the liberal arts as such. In other words, they see the liberal arts program as merely supportive of the professional and quasi-professional programs which they lavish with funds in the name of national development.”
It seems to me that when Popoy suggested we should complement our criticism with realistic and viable solutions for the government, he was implying that social criticism should be regarded only as secondary to public service. This is classic technocratism, where other facets of society are narrowly viewed as subordinate to technical expertise.
The Social Critic that is UP
To echo Dodong’s thoughts, we must be reminded that while providing technical support to the government is of utmost importance for development, as expressly indicated in the UP Charter, social criticism must remain at the center of the university and continue to serve as the moral conscience of the nation; otherwise, UP will lose sight of its purpose.
Unfortunately, technocrats like Popoy seem to embrace the misleading belief that social criticism is a lesser form of public service or a mere academic exercise. Social criticism as public service in UP needs not to be redefined. The university’s storied history of challenging the status quo and holding power to account is at the core of its commitment to public service. In many instances, it has sparked genuine changes and served as a catalyst for national transformation.
At a time when attacks against the people intensify, especially the masses at the fringe of society, it is all the more reason to embrace our role as social critics. To suggest otherwise is to bow down before men of power whose primary objective is to nurture a passive citizenry willing to be subjected to tyranny. We must constantly struggle against this, as it runs counter to the very essence of what our UP diploma represents.
