Wise words from a Nobel-winning writer

Last Tuesday, celebrat­ed Peruvian author Mario Vargas Llosa wrapped up his trip to the Philippines by receiving an honorary doctorate in liter­ature from De La Salle Uni­versity (DLSU) in a short, but solemn ceremony attended by officials, teachers and stu­dents of the school; diplomats, members of the Spanish and Spanish-speaking community in Manila; and writers, including myself.

The event was the third and last on the itinerary of the recipient of the 2010 Nobel Prize for Literature and the 1994 Miguel de Cervantes Prize. It followed his accep­tance of an honorary profes­sorship and delivery of a lec­ture at the University of Santo Tomas on November 7 and a November 3 press conference organized by Instituto Cer­vantes, the cultural arm of the Embassy of Spain in Manila that invited the literary giant to visit the country, his first since 1978.

In his speech at DLSU, Vargas Llosa, whose many novels in­clude The Time of the Hero, Con­versation in the Cathedral, Aunt Julia and the Scriptwriter, The War of the End of the World and The Storyteller, spoke of how literature enriches people’s lives and empowers them in a less-than-ideal society.

“I think good books not only enrich our knowledge of our own language. [They] not only enrich your mind [and] your sensibility, but [also] give you very important lessons for the relationship that you will have with the rest of the world,” Vargas Llosa said.

“Good books are the best defense that we have against prejudices, against distorted views of people of different languages, beliefs [and] cus­toms,” he said, adding that, de­spite these differences, the one important “common denomi­nator” that people of different traditions have is that they’re all human and are challenged by “very similar problems and obstacles.”

“Good books—good sto­ries—that we read make us much more accessible to spir­itual and civic values,” the au­thor said. He noted how “the lack of freedom impoverishes the material, spiritual and cul­tural” lives of individuals and societies.

“I think good books de­velop in us readers a kind of malaise, a kind of dissatis­faction with the world as it is; and also the hope that life will change, that societies will overcome all limitations and create” fairer societies, he add­ed.

Vargas Llosa said literature is the “natural enemy” of dicta­tors and dictatorships, that it’s “something that was against violence as an instrument of control [in] society, against the kind of fear and insecurity that all dictators produce in its citi­zens.”

“Good books develop in us a kind of natural criticism of the world as it is. Longing for a better world, better society, better institutions that would be able to create opportunities [that will be] open to all citi­zens, [and] societies in which inequality will be diminished and which there will be oppor­tunity for everybody to mate­rialize [his or her] dreams,” he added.

Traumatic period

Interestingly, Vargas Llosa delivered his speech on the same day our Supreme Court ruled that the late dictator Ferdinand E. Marcos can be buried at the Libingan ng mga Bayani (Heroes’ Cemetery) in Taguig City. His 20-year control over the country not only saw mas­sive human-rights violations committed, freedom of speech suppressed and the national economy plunge, but also re­sulted in the creation of litera­ture that deals with that trau­matic period in our history. This includes the novels Mass by National Artist for Litera­ture F. Sionil José, State of War by Ninotchka Rosca, Killing Time in a Warm Place by Jose Y. Dalisay Jr., and Dekada ’70 (The 1970s) by Lualhati Bautista.

The speech also came a day before controversial busi­nessman Donald Trump— who used scandalous language in his campaign speeches and expressed admi­ration for Russian strongman Vladimir Putin—shocked the world by defeating former United States Secretary of State Hillary Clinton to win his country’s presidential elec­tions. This prompted Clin­ton’s millennial supporters to stage unprecedented protests in major cities across America.

With these troubling po­litical events as a backdrop, I couldn’t help but imagine Vargas Llosa’s words acquiring add­ed significance. I’m sure his speech has resonated deeply with the Filipino writing com­munity. Even before he ar­rived, a number of our creative writers have penned short sto­ries, poems, and essays that express their alarm, anger, and anguish over the rising num­ber of people summarily killed as part of the government’s war on illegal drugs that Pres­ident Duterte waged when he took office on June 30.

These works should sur­prise no one. In my mind, they are the latest in a rich line of works that may be traced back to Dr. José Rizal’s influential novels. Works that are socially conscious or socially commit­ted, that sharply comment on what’s wrong with society.

For many creative writers in this country, to write is to not only entertain or educate. To write is to not only remem­ber. To write is to also com­ment, to protest wrongdoing that has become too familiar, too intimate. Some may try to dispute its helpfulness in addressing society’s ills—and they would have good rea­son to—but they only have to look at Noli Me Tangere and El Filibusterismo and how it made an impact on a lot of Filipinos, then and now. Such is the power of the written word, given the right conditions, and if anyone knows this well, it’s Vargas Llosa.

As we face another week that seems to promise more of the same pain that marked last week—and despite fears that things might get worse in the coming years—the Nobel laureate’s wise words should again remind writers of their role in the world.

These should encour­age them to keep the faith, to continue to do what they must, to dream of a better society. But then again, they probably don’t need to be reminded or encouraged that much. It’s already part of their literary heritage. It’s already in their blood.