LONDON – If there’s something flawed in Philippine President Rodrigo Roa Duterte – he who prefers to be called mayor, Digong, DU30, and not the deferential and respectful Mr. President – it is that he is raw and unburnished.
Not a fault of his, of course, but the presidency he won by a margin of 6.6 million votes ahead of his closest rival in the May 9 election, is not going to change the man who was born without a silver spoon in his mouth.
That fact of his birth resonates with majority of Filipinos. He is a plebeian by circumstances and by choice.
Duterte speaks with a street-smart eloquence of the lingua franca of the masses, his expletives are ordinary, everyday curses one hears to express dismay, a horrifying warning to wrongdoers, a profanity to the elite.
That is not to say he is ill-mannered or uneducated. The truth is he had graduated from a law school, was called to the Bar and practiced law for years.
When he utters “putang ina mo” (son of a bitch), he vocalizes the utter helplessness of one bound by politics and convention to be chaste in words and demeanor. Why does it sound hurtful in Tagalog when the English slangs like “fuck you”, “shit” litter our vocabulary?
In desperation we grasp at these words as one would hurl an invective to cause hurt. Coming from Duterte, the cuss words have taken a new degree of official vileness.
Unpleasant as he may appear, the 71-year-old has a soft heart for the downtrodden, which is very evident in his treatment of the police and the military and their families, the common folks and the poor in general.
Without losing sight of his mortality, he flirts with danger as much as he flirts with women who attract his fancy, be they reporters, government officials, law enforcement agents, etc.
Duterte has an aversion to formalities. Most times he defies convention as he does when he feels at home.
It showed very recently in a gathering of friends and schoolmates from San Beda College where he finished law.
The President took the mic and joined a woman in her singing of “Ikaw”, apparently his favourite tune. It was his karaoke moment. I believe this is the second time I’ve watched him in the news appropriating the time for this song, which also happens to be one of my favourites.
Duterte may be called the “karaoke president” for his avant-garde way of seizing a moment of joviality with kindred folks. He is a league of his own.
In Canada, there’s a so-called “karaoke senator” who took the Japanese-invented machine to describe compatriots. That’s a bit of a downer when taken in the context that many Filipinos, specially in Toronto, are stereotyped as caregivers and house helpers.
He has not lifted Filipinos from their dire straits; instead he puts them all in one category the proud and brave Philippine heroes would readily toss out in protest – that “Filipino Canadians are known x x x for being the best at karaoke”.
I don’t like to mention his name because to do so would lull him into believing that he has gained status of an international figure like Duterte. I would concede, however, that he fits well into any of those barangays in his native province.
Even if Duterte occasionally takes to the karaoke, his doing so does not make him best at karaoke. He does not lose the presidency. He does not lose his face. He does not lose the support of Filipinos.
The “karaoke senator”, on the other hand, has belittled his origins, his skin, his accent, his appearance – everything – by mocking all Filipinos as “being the best at karaoke” in a speech at the august chambers of the Senate of Canada. And he wasn’t even elected!