Religion and politics in the Philippines

Lately, there has been no shortage of press coverage on the religiosity of politicians. The current Vice-President Jejomar Binay projects himself as a devotee of the Sacred Heart of Jesus who does not miss a beat in mentioning the divinity’s name in his speeches and pronouncements. And there is Congressman Manny Pacquiao who now dons the televangelist persona punctuating the speaking circuit with his dream of religious conversion. Of course, such claims are hardly unique in the chronicles of Philippine politics. Filipino politicians are loyal to their religious faiths either genuinely or nominally. The possibility of a non-religious Filipino politician, I am not sure exists. In fact, I still have to find an elected Filipino politician who is a self-proclaimed atheist or agnostic. I may be wrong. Nonetheless, the intersection of religion and politics in the Philippines is historically indelible and culturally marked in our experience that renders our psyche vulnerable not only to credulity but consumerism. In general, when a self-proclaimed Filipino religious leader takes away one’s ability to reason and replace it with fear, superstition, and entertainment, he or she can easily lead people like a sheep to the slaughter. For me, this is one side of religion in the Philippines that makes people personally and socially credulous—a largely overpowering and unbending collective or charisma directing adherents what to believe, usually appropriating the assumed belief system as a dogma which is divinely inspired and revealed as a sacred text. Though in actual practice, it can be contested that its belief system is based far more on interpretation—varying opinions of what religious leaders prefer the text to mean than on the meaning of the text itself. In my experience, I observed that without exception, organized religion (Christian or non-Christian) in the Philippines goes through an unending episode of controversy as people inevitably start to quibble about interpretation—literal, flexible, or somewhere in between. When religious leaders differ on their judgments, the result is its unavoidable organizational proliferation into branches, denominations, sects, or even cults. This is exactly why such credulity while providing an excuse for conformity and uniformity, also creates a wildfire for opportunistic religious crackpots doing whatever feels right and repositioning themselves to jockey for power within a religiously polarized landscape. No wonder our country has an ample share of bishops, priests, ministers, pastors, evangelists, and laity—allegedly active charlatans who promiscuously use religion and the name of God for political blackmail and economic gain. This is the most disturbing aspect of religion in the Philippines. It is now indispensable and convenient for politicians to use religion as a weapon in their arsenal for power-grab and vice-versa. Interestingly, politicians and religious leaders shop each other for the best deals that serve their respective self-interests, à la carte. If Vice-President Jejomar Binay or Congressman Manny Pacquiao shop for religious groups that suit their egos and political ambitions rather than live Christ’s way of life and the Great Commission, isn’t it then understandable that it would be extremely difficult for them to heed the admonition that “When you pray, go to your room and shut the door?” Does this sound like religious consumerism? But that’s what it is. Religion is no longer privately modest but publicly immodest. Politics and religion in the Philippines are not only virtually inseparable but publicly consumable and highly entertaining. Perhaps, it is time for us to pause and ponder on what Saint Matthew cautioned us a long time ago—to be on the watch for "false prophets in sheep’s clothing, but inside they are ravenous wolves" and "hypocrites who are like white sepulchres which appear beautiful in the outside, but are full of dead men's bones in the inside." Truth to tell, I have no inkling what magical effect an alleged Road to Damascus moment has wrought in the hearts of these politicos. But if your mind had an inquisitive bent, you might ask whether they found religion simply in order to make themselves appear less corrupt and more electable. Since Vice-President Binay and Congressman Pacquiao have unqualifiedly made known their respective ambitions to become the future president of the Philippines (not that I oppose their democratic right to do so), one wonders whether we have any confidence that both become professedly religious for any reason other than a cold political calculation? But the more interesting question may be how we can measure the authenticity of their professed religious conversions at all. As Immanuel Kant reminded us:  “Sapere aude!”