What 9/11 Made Me

9/11 started me on a process of learning about the world in a way my college professors at that time could only grasp theoretically and hypothetically. The language to explain the September attacks has not been developed yet, and over the next decade there would be no shortage of pundits and experts coming out of the woodwork to explain the event away.

As an observer far removed from the event itself, I cannot lay claim to the grief that I am certain still grips people who lost loved ones that day. The indignation I feel against those who perpetrate acts of terror is not rooted in patriotic anger, but in a shared disbelief over the worst that men can do to each other.

For sure, 9/11 taught me that the world was complex. It made me ask tougher questions about religion, politics, and humanity itself. But learning about the seemingly sophisticated intersections of faith and geopolitics only led me to develop a simple instinct. Early on I already began to hold on to the conviction that the key to a safer world was not more theory but more empathy. I grew convinced that though behind our borders lie our differences, there are values we can share which transcend race, region, and religion.

But the past ten years have also shown me that holding on to such belief isn’t easy. We seem even farther away from what many feel is an impending global ethos. History, after all, has been unkind to utopian dreams and those who have tried — from Mao Zedong to Osama bin Laden — have not been judged kindly.

In 2008, I saw in Barack Obama the type of leadership that this coming world needs. But looking at his performance now, that world is farther off still. Partisanship remains the political impulse;  new political battle lines are drawn each day. The hunger for redemption that brought Noynoy Aquino into the Philippine presidency is now exhausted, leaving in its place the same rancor and divisiveness that marks all politics. And all this is tragic. For in each day, a new reason for us to share and work together emerges. We feel it in our dwindling paychecks, our rising bills, the mercilessness of our climate, and the deepening chasm between those who can make do and those who can’t.

I often tell my students that 9/11 began me on the intellectual path that led me to become a social studies teacher. Then it was in being an educator that I discovered a deeper passion for forming student leaders and proactive citizens. After all, if there is one thing I learned in the past ten years, it is that ideas can be powerful things. All it takes is for one man to have the courage and will to wield it. In the hands of a terrorist they can destroy, but in the hands of a teacher, they can build.

Years ago my professors were caught in a world they can’t explain away. My objective is different: not to explain, but to put in my students the tools they need to help build a world no evil can take away.

How involved are today’s youth?

Joseph Quesada’s talk this afternoon was a generous buffet of ideas and insights into youth leadership. And of the many slides that zipped through the screen, one with the Ladder of Youth Voice stood out.

First used by UNICEF to provide instructors with a framework to understand how involved the youth are in various organizations, institutions, and communities, the Ladder of Youth Voice was presented by JQ to make us teachers and administrators think about the kind of leadership environment we provide Pisay students. Having worked extensively in developing leadership programs, Mr. Quesada was on hand to catalyze our own thinking process as we begin the exciting work of designing the PSHS’s own.

Rungs 1 to 3 present non-participation. When the youth are simply made to do tasks, are asked to simply be there, or to act as a props in creating the perception of youth involvement, then they’re pretty much non-participants in the process.

Rung 4 is a little better. Think of the last time you were tasked by a teacher or authority to do something. But that’s it. You really don’t get to contest or suggest, but at least you’re involved in the most basic level.

Rung 5 upwards is where we can see more participation. Youth consultation occurs when the authorities draft a policy but with valuable inputs from the youth. Rung 6 is similar, but there is more working together between youth and authority from drafting to implementing the policy.

Rung 7 is when the youth themselves dictate the agenda. Think of a student leader coming to the administration to put forward a proposal he is willing to fight and work for — that’s what youth-driven means.

The highest, Rung 8, isn’t just about working together. It’s about the institution actually integrating youth participation in its daily procedures and processes. The Sanggunian Kabataan (SK) in its idealized form is an example of this.

So what do these all mean?

If you’re someone from age 11 to 30, take a look at the place you study or work. Which Rung do you find yourself in?

While we do our best to not find ourselves anywhere from Rungs 1 to 3, different communities may calibrate themselves from Rungs 4 to 8 depending on their need.

Some set ups will require more top-down instruction — perhaps a basic education class — but youth clubs and organizations may benefit from a more equitable and collegial approach. There will naturally be institutions that are more traditional vis-a-vis some that are more progressive. Just know where you are and fully understand the mandate of the place you are in. It’s always great to push for more involvement, but do so at the right time and with the right purpose.

Your place in the Rung may also depend on you – your age, maturity, skills, talents, and personal drive. After all, before you lead others you must first lead yourself.

(Read more about The Ladder of Youth Voice here.)