I begin my 21-km drive to work every day by passing through the West service road of the South Luzon Expressway. It’s not a long stretch; on a good day I hit Makati in 10-minutes from our little hamlet in Paranaque. But not all days are good days, especially lately.
I enter the service road from Edison Avenue, one of the area’s larger side streets. Every morning I greet the expressway at a 90′ angle so upon facing it I can see the southward route out of the city to my right and to my left is the path deeper into Metro Manila. That left is the first big turn I make in the series of choices I make each day.
This intersection has always been problematic. Jeepneys stop on all four sides — before and after the intersection, both northwards and southwards — as they wait to fill their cabin with passengers. But lately it has gotten worse.
The volume of cars passing through the service road has increased tremendously. The higher toll fees could be a factor; a lot of those clogging the service road are delivery trucks and vans desperately trying to cut costs. Another consideration is that most of our area has recently been converted into a commercial/residential zone. Our subdivision used to be one of the smaller residential pockets in a sea of factories; now the factories are shutting down and new housing projects are being put up. There are simply more people now, and the jeepneys — whose drivers are assaulted by rising gas and food prices — are making the most of this demographic shift.
Hence, my dilemma every morning.
As I approach the intersection and see the jeeps docked around and within the intersection, I feel my blood boil. I feel rage (at 6am). In a flash I imagine myself driving a Humvee carelessly through. Or maybe don my own vigilante gear and teach everyone the Rule of Law. But then the heat eventually yields to compassion; if I am having a tough time making ends meet with my salary and the bills that don’t pay themselves, I am certain that they are having an even more difficult time. I then look into their eyes from behind my tinted glass and see not malice, but a desperate yet patient determination that they’re just doing what they have to do — blaring horns and battering curses be damned.
Then I am overcome by reason, and a deep, Confucian sort of righteous indignation. Do they not understand that rules are in place for the benefit of everyone? That perhaps if they kept the intersection clear then the traffic will flow more smoothly, avoid jams, and allow them to ply their routes more quickly? In the process they get to have more trips, save more gas, and eventually take home more pay. “If only they extended their concern to the whole world,” the Buddha within speaks, “then everyone would be at peace.”
However, is it truly their fault that they behave the way they do? I channel the Dao and see that the environment does not allow for them to act justly. They need to make a living and yet are unable to without inconveniencing others. And when others violate the traffic rules by counterflowing to avoid the jeeps, no one stops them from doing so. So we ask: is it not their fault that they counterflow? There is just too much in that intersection that is not in sync with the universal Way.
I hold this debate inside my head every time. I have found that it’s a great time killer; traffic moves before I realize it. But this thought process captures my so-called dilemma about rules and how they are used to establish order in a chaotic system. I use this debate to convert the stress of traffic into a stimulus that gets my brain running. By the time I reach work, I am ready for a day’s work as the school’s Discipline Officer. The irony of that is not lost on me.
In 2009, a talk by educationist Debashis Chaterjee largely shaped the way I currently see the world — that there are two: the human world and the systems world. The human world is defined by creativity, passion, and the human spirit. The systems world is shaped by laws, structures, and principles. The two both clash and reinforce each other: just as the human world cannot be contained, the systems world cannot be annihilated.
In the question as to whether the government or ourselves must be blamed for the ills of society, people too easily concede that we are all part of the problem. It’s a humbling response, but it seems to end there. What is lost in all this self-deprecation is the realization that we need to become part of the system in order to change it, and we need to change ourselves in order to inspire change in the system. (In principle I agree that some systems are so corrupt and ineffective that the only course is to subvert and destroy them; but those who propose to do so must be aware that another system will only inevitably rise in its place. Will they be ready when that happens? What if it’s them?) Change is truly an autocatalytic process, but neither side is often ready to take the first step. People remain cynical of government, and government is still incapable of harnessing and asking the best of its people.
[NOTE: Take system here in the post-modernist sense of the term. It's not so much a structure of governance but the sum of our interlocking web of relationships and their varying levels of power. System, in this sense, can be defined by the most fundamental things that link us such as language, ethnicity, and biology. A system can fully exist without government.]
In the case of our tiny intersection along the West service road, there must be both an effort on the part of the city government to provide for the structures necessary to allow the jeeps to dock and fill themselves up, and on the part of concerned citizens to stand up for the rule of law. A golden opportunity was missed when a recent Robinson’s housing project was established in the area; an access road could have been made to cut into Edison or perhaps a small lot could have been set aside for a public transportation terminal.
In the meantime, it wouldn’t hurt to enforce traffic rules more tightly. One small complication with this particular intersection is that it sits right on the boundary of Pasay and Paranaque. Edison Avenue is literally the dividing line on the map. There have been patrols before, but then the politics of jurisdiction (“That’s not my problem!”) got in the way. I hope they all grow up a bit. (Pasay police would man their side but not mind Paranaque’s at all. When things got testy, one side would just point fingers at the other. It’s really pathetic.)
But beyond enforcing rules, explain them. Communicate. The No Loading/Unloading signs do not work at all anymore. It would be great to have MMDA-style graphics and boards to demonstrate why the area must be kept clear. I also hope the city government(/s) reaches out to the baranggays in the area to engage the citizens and keep them appraised of the situation and what little things they can do to make things better.
Because at the end of the day, we all look forward to coming home. And while I share this daily pilgrimage with the anonymous people of Paranaque/Pasay, my mind hovers in a quasi-meditative state, pondering these questions. My dilemma is not so much whether jeepney drivers are to be blamed or forgiven. It’s not even whether we begin by putting up the right structures or by working on our people — we do both. At the heart of it, the question becomes whether I am doing enough to make a positive difference. It is the question I carry with me in every second of my work; it is the challenge that unnerves me in every minute of every day.
And that, in many ways, is what makes a traffic jam so agonizing.
