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From policies to pandemic: Jeepneys on their way to extinction
COVID-19 Special Issue Volume 40, Issue 4
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From policies to pandemic: Jeepneys on their way to extinction
Art Cedrik ROMERO
It was a spectacle, in the fast-paced city of New York to see a peculiar looking vehicle traversing its busy streets. Its sheen, almost optimus prime looking front and elongated body that can seat a large group of passengers, is unusual in its streets mostly crowded with taxis.
The New York appearance of the Philippine Jeepney is not an everyday sight to see, especially not in America. Expectedly, posts of Filipino Pride flooded social media in brag about it, being an iconic moment. A cultural symbol, Jeepneys turned public transport staples in the tapestries of Filipino life, faces an uncertain future.
While they are a visual feast of kitsch decoration, they also contribute to the crippling congestion and pollution, that the Duterte administration, in an inadvertent move, wishes to fix in a systemic change of sorts. Whereas the vision of streets filled with eco-friendly, solar-powered vehicles seems exemplary and promising, it's more than just a pipe dream. Detrimental to think, it could take thousands of vehicle out of service and endanger livelihood of drivers and others in the Jeepney industry. Thousands of job loss poses a great danger more than just the mere tarnishing of a renowned Filipino icon.
ON THE LOSING SIDE
In 2017, when the public utility vehicle (PUV) modernization program was first launched, many transport groups held several strikes nationwide in opposition. The decades-old mode of transport, entrenched not only in the lives of million Filipinos but in the national psyche, was called to modernize.
The Department of Transportation issued Department Order No. 2017-011 (Re: Omnibus Guidelines on the Planning and Identification of Public Road Transportation Services and Franchise Issuance) or the Public Utility Vehicle Modernization Program (PUVMP) was not just a mere modernization program, as per its site description. It is a "comprehensive system reform that will entirely change the public land transportation industry."
Among the major components of the program is fleet modernization, based on extensive consultations with jeepney associations, as well as local and international manufacturers. It also features a regulatory reform and sets of new guidelines for the issuance of franchise on road based public transport services.
It was received negatively by various transport groups prior to its launch. Kilusang Mayo Uno (KMU) and Pinagkaisang Samahan ng Tsuper at Operator Nationwide (PISTON) strongly opposed to the idea of a modernized jeepney costing P1.4 million to P1.6 million—which will obviously drown drivers in debt and cause increased fare to commuters.
Comprising around 2% of vehicular traffic in National Capital Region (NCR), government's promises of lighter traffic seems like a sham. According to Crispin B. Beltran Resource Center (CBBRC), drivers, small-time independent operators and commuters will be at a loss while foreign and local companies can take advantage of the situation by monopolizing technology and increasing fares by up to 50 percent.
THE PLIGHT AMIDST PANDEMIC
Just as jeepneys navigating New York streets was an unusual sight, so are drivers-turned-beggars on our own streets, out on a desperate act produced by anti-poor policies. Displaced jeepney drivers resorted to begging, with no choice, in adherence to the restrictions imposed three months ago barring most public transport.
With the threat of PUVMP and COVID-19, it completely immobilized thousands of drivers, jobless and destitute. Easing of lockdown policies aimed at salvaging our recessing economy, allowed newer passenger vehicles to operate under strict regulations. Howbeit, jeepney drivers remained on the sidelines.
In what the people see as a continuous pattern of growing crackdowns on peaceful protests, included those ensnared was a group of six jeepney drivers. PISTON transport group had organized the rally, asking for permission to resume operations and to request government aid, which has been criticized for being insufficient.
Said transport group has previously clashed with President Rodrigo Duterte. In 2017, amid a dispute over government plans to phase out jeepneys, Duterte said he would order the military and police to manage protests and told the group to be ready to face rubber bullets.
PISTON-6, jailed while protesting for their livelihoods, was released on bail. Ironically, they were jailed for making themselves vulnerable to COVID-19 while protesting but their imprisonment led two of them to test positive. The cramped facility, with no hint of disinfection, led two of them, including the 72-yearold Elmer Cordero, at more grave health risks.
As of this writing, jeepneys are still scarcely operating, with the socalled "king of the road" at the bottom of the public transportation hierarchy.
In 2017, President Rodrigo Duterte became controversial as he told this affected sector: “Mahirap kayo? P***ng ina, magtiis kayo sa hirap at gutom, wala akong pakialam (You’re poor? Son of a b****, endure hardship and hunger, I don’t care). It’s the majority of the Filipino people. Huwag ninyo ipasubo ang tao (Don’t endanger the public).” A scoff on PISTON and leftist groups protesting how the PUVMP is anti-poor.
If by some God-given miracle, they survived the trials and tribulations of a global pandemic, the threat of PUVMP will still drive them to extinction. An uphill battle will continue once we're past this health emergency, with them, sadly on the losing end.
With the commuting situation far from any semblance of modernity, and the promised "golden age of infrastructure" more unlikely, PUVMP will always be center stage for questioning and scrutiny. Just as how jeepneys brought clamor in New York and exclamations of pride, may these same voices reverberate the muffled voices of drivers continuously silenced to a hush.
ILLUSTRATION BY ANNA CASANDRA MARIÑO
narratives
COVID-19 Special Issue Volume 40, Issue 4
A Battle of Rights: Cyber Libel vs. Press Freedom
Alaiza Elaine MANANSALA
With the Philippines under quarantine, the virtual world has become the primary platform utilized by journalists for reporting news, sharing sentiments, and airing criticisms. Before the signing of the Cybercrime law in the country way back September 2012, no one can be punished by acts committed online—which meant freedom, for most people, as you can do anything online and not be responsible with it. However, the year now is 2020 and cyber libel may be used as a masking tape to silence the press.
Amidst the pandemic, Maria Ressa, founder of Rappler and former Rappler journalist Reynaldo Santos Jr. were convicted of cyber libel last June 15, 2020. Cyber libel is a libel committed through a computer system or any other similar means. With the case of Maria Ressa, it was about a May 2012 article which cited an unintelligence report alleging businessman Wilfredo Keng to be tied in an illegal activity. Keng denied that accusation. At the time thatis article was published online, the Cybercrime law did not yet exist. However, a loophole made the lawsuit valid because the article was considered to be “republished” when a typo was corrected back in February 2014.
“I think what you’re seeing is death by a thousand cuts—not just of press freedom but of democracy,” said Ressa in an interview with BBC after the verdict.
This was supported by Foreign Correspondent Association of the Philippines (FOCAP) saying that it was “a menacing blow to press freedom.” However, Judge Rainelda Montea explained that her verdict was based on evidence presented to the court and freedom of the press “cannot be used as a shield” against libel. This takes us back to the time when Cybercrime was just passed into law and several lawmakers filed a petition against it, for according to them, it was “unconstitutional due to vagueness” and curtails “constitutional rights to due process, speech, expression, free press, and academic freedom.”
Another recent incident labelled as an attack to “press freedom” in the country was the threat of cyber libel case against campus journalist Joshua Molo, Editor-in-Chief of UE Dawn. It all stemmed from his Instagram post expressing his disappointment to his former teachers after they mocked his criticism of the government’s efforts in handling COVID-19. His former teacher threatened to sue him with cyber libel unless he will do a public apology or sign a waiver that he would not post sentiments critical of the government again. For his family cannot afford the legal battle, Molo publicly apologized and waived his right to free speech.
In this generation where a news article or a criticism by a journalist can be posted in one click and could go viral in a blink of an eye, the wall between the government’s obligation to protect individuals from defamation and the constitutional right to press freedom had and will always be prone to collapsing. Considering that thin line, the right of free speech is not absolute at all times and under all circumstances. Cyber libel can be a shield for one’s reputation and property or a poison targeting the voice of journalists. Various citizens’ rights have clashed before the court and no matter the case, it will always end the same—one wins while the other loses.
