| Merging the Arts of War and the Theater
by Steven Patrick C. Fernandez The fringe benefits of joining a touring performing group far outweigh the pittance in talent fees our artists receive. There are many reasons why the tours of the Integrated Performing Arts Guild (IPAG) have been memorable experiences. These experiences move us. They are our lessons about life as these expand our views and reshape misimpressions. The time we performed for the country’s premiere military institution is experience worth sharing. The short encounter has erased a misimpression that the military is the cradle of violence, where the quick draw from the hip is the rule. The IPAG performance in the Philippine Military Academy last October 1 in Baguio City was auspicious in these times of political fragmentation. (IPAG was to highlight the recognition of the exemplary service of the retiring PMA Assistant Superintendent. But as fate dictates, the General against orders from Malacañang testifies before the Senate, annoys his superiors, and these set court martial proceedings against him 3 days before his colleagues honor him in ceremonies that have already been planned.) The Art of War and the Art of the Stage The military carried an image of supercilious truculence. As least this was how I thought: I grew in the times of Martial Law when the presence of a soldier, rather than keep the peace, foreboded trouble. This image was borne by a misunderstanding of the soldier’s real world and our own. The soldier’s world is truly different from the civilian’s, and a lot more different from an artist’s unregimented world of non-conformity. To many like me, this impersonal soldier’s world lacked a sense of human-ness. In the cool mountain enclave of Fort del Pilar, IPAG’s theater and the military met. It was the first time the PMA hosted a full-length production of any kind about Philippine culture. The show highlighted Mindanao whose tri-people cultures were set in molds of conflict and by the impressions of violence where the military always played a central role. The ploy to allow the military and culture to meet was Superintendent Lt. Gen. Cristolito Balaoing’s own. Gen. Balaoing reminded us to emphasize the reason for introducing culture to the cadets. IPAG’s and PMA’s paths had crossed: in differing manners, we were both advocating peace. A thousand cadets sat erect joining their officers, foreign military guests, and members of their families as Tales From Mindanao unfolded. Before curtains, I had to remind the audience to have fun and to enjoy the performance. Knowing well the stiff decorum in the military, I encouraged the audience to let go, to laugh, or if one felt like crying, to cry. Like stone statues, the cadets listened and froze, but were generous in their applause to a precise cue. We had to appreciate military ethics that dictated protocol even in such innocuous activities as this performance: never joke upper classmen when lower classmen are around. So in the portion where we make a monkey, literally, out of a member of the audience, we had to choose a plebe. We were advised: no one laughs at a superior. In civilian life, ridiculing was the best way we get back at authority. While reactions were measured, the audience let go of reaction and applause after each segment. Gone were the aaahhhs, the oooohss, and the spontaneous reactions in the previous days’ performances at the University of Baguio. In military precision, this night’s applause was predictable, but in the end, the PMA celebrated Tales with a standing ovation. An elated General Balaoing climbed the stage and joined the encore. To give more meaning to this display of culture, he invited all cadets from Iligan City and the MSU-IIT, our home base (there were a number, to our surprise), to proudly join the artists on stage. This was a symbolic gesture of unity, a collective show of similar advocacies, where soldiers and artists meet, and where the arts of war and the stage merge. Culture in the Academy In an institution that teaches the art of war, I tried to understand how peace figured in this institution. It wasn’t difficult to figure this out. Looking at the young, idealistic, and hopeful presence of the cadets, I figured them to be the future leaders who espouse the same idealism of young Pinoys. Little separates a young Filipino artist from a young Filipino soldier when the ideals of humanity and the Filipino are aspired for. I had pasted a face to these young soldiers, and I drew an outline of compassion and integrity. The next day proved this impression correct when we were guests in the cadets’ own show of culture. In the parade field, the 2006 Mandala class performed its own choreography of precise drills. But unlike the usual silent drills one watches in most military parades, this show eschewed violence. Where we expected to watch new-learned skills in warfare and jungle survival, there was none. Instead, we were bombarded with images and sounds of hope and the aspirations of our young people. The compassionate face of the future soldier was now more clearly etched. Accompanying their formations was their PMA story by a male and a female narrator. Emblazoned by clean formations were the images that bonded art and soldiery, artists and warriors: the heart, cross, key, star, time, and a musical note formed by bodies in gray and white that displayed the cadets’ terpsichorean skills. Then, as if to restate the human-ness of the occasion, the cadets fall off line to pick up roses they offer to their foster parents in the gallery. How culture binds. How culture becomes venue for our collective aspirations. How culture allows us to see that both our young artists and future officers harbor the same dreams. If only our political leaders had the same sense, sensitivity, and the compassion, then who needs war? Our Tales From Mindanao will continue to advocate harmony to bond with those who share our ideals. As artists, we find new worlds to discover and to experience. In the Philippine Military Academy, we found kindred souls who share our dreams.
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