Can cultural identity create jobs? The case of the Filipino design group called "Movement 8" proves that it does. Kenneth Cobonpue is a member of this group. Like others, he opted not to follow designs prevalent in highly industrialized societies. These often use plenty of plastic and steel. Lacking efficient industries in those fields, we cannot compete in them. Instead he decided to highlight traditional Filipino skills in weaving with rattan. At the same time, he innovated by mixing rattan with metal frames. Or by drawing inspiration from found objects such as a crushed Coca-Cola can. The resulting strong identity has won fame for him and for his group. According to Time Magazine, July 24, 2006, from which this photo was taken, Brad Pitt bought this splendid bed from him.

¿Créa empleo la identidad cultural? El caso del grupo filipino de diseño llamado "Movement 8" demuestra que sí. Kenneth Cobonpue es un miembro de este grupo. Como los demás, optó por no seguir diseños en boga en países industrializados que usan mucho plástico y acero. Porque no tenemos industrias en esos products que son eficazes, no podríamos competir. Al contrario hizo resaltar la habilidad tradicional filipina en tejer con bejuco (o con la caña de Manila). Al mismo tiempo innovó, mezclando el bejuco con entramados de metál. O se inspiró en objetos echados y encontrados como una lata machacada de Coca-Cola. Una identidad fuerte ha resultado. Esta ha ganado fama para él y su grupo. Según el Time Magazin, 24 de julio, 2006, de lo cual se sacó esta foto, Brad Pitt compró este lecho esplendido de él.

JAVANESE DIP DEEP-FRIED and roasted foods either in sambal—a paste made from red chili peppers, garlic, salt, and sugar—or in terasi, a fermented shrimp/fish paste that may be studded with chopped red chilies. Tagalogs prefer dipping sauces with a sour base: palm vinegar with a lone crushed chili pepper pod; vinegar with slivers of onion with mashed garlic and pepper; chopped green camias and tomatoes; or small raw pickled mangoes mixed with tomatoes and coriander. Though the Javanese use some tamarind juice in their dishes, they complain that the Tagalog’s sour dishes, especially those cooked in vinegar, upset their system. On the other hand while the Tagalogs use some chili pepper, many of them claim that sambal burns their stomach. Which taste is more authentically “Asian”: the Javanese or the Tagalog?

Many assume that an identifiable pan Asian sensibility exists in all domains, from philosophy to literature to music to cooking; and that while Javanese culture is authentic, because it conforms to this ideal norm, Tagalog culture is inauthentic because submission to Spanish colonization has alienated it from this norm. Thus, the writer Mariles Vitug (interview 1997) asked the culinary expert Doreen Fernandez, “The Philippines has been colonized twice. Did this confuse the country’s cuisine?” Note the loaded word “confuse.” In an interview for the Philippine Star, Lorrie Reynoso, a chef instructor at the prestigious New York Restaurant School, says that the consensus of Filipinos and American food editors and critics is that when Westerners think of Asian cuisine, “whether it is Thai, Burmese, Indonesian,” they always associate it with indigenous spices “which Philippine cuisine does not have” (Martel 1997).

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SOME TEACHER-FRIENDS in the Ilocos confide that when they visit an unfamiliar hamlet, even within the same municipality where they reside, they carry small bottles of consecrated coconut oil1 as protection against sorcery. One supposed sign of hexing is stomach disorder. When I would mention wanting to visit, say, another hamlet a few kilometers down the road, friends would warn me that it harbored sorcerers [mannamay]. However, in that hamlet down-the¬-road, friends there would be concerned that I had been staying in that hamlet up the road. They feared it for its sorcerers! This suspiciousness toward outsiders, even of the same ethnicity and language, has characterized non Ilocanos as well at certain times in their history. Maximo Ramos (1971, 48), the folklorist, relates a 1930s tale from the Tagalog speaking town of Lucban, Quezon. Teachers came from all over the province for a seminar. The townspeople claimed that during that week, black winged creatures with human heads and torso but no lower bodies flew at night. After the seminar ended, peace returned. Bicolanos have also had a similar tendency to accuse the stranger of witchcraft (Lynch 1963, 151). So do rural dwellers in Samar according to my sociologist colleague Leslie Lopez (2002) who hails from that province.

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ENJOYING A FOREIGN DISH means more than ingesting food; it is an acknowledgment that the Other has a value worth welcoming into one’s being. During the last decades of the twentieth century, the cuisines of Thailand, Vietnam, Bali, and Singapore gained international acceptance and prestige. So have other expressions of their culture. As recently as the 1960s, Southeast Asian arts were classified as either “Farther Indian” or “Chinese”; these labels have since been dropped and the unique features of each style appreciated. May we expect that the same respect will eventually be accorded our Filipino arts, specifically those created in the Christianized, Hispanized lowlands?

In the realm of taste, as in other realms, such respect is closer now than before, but still remote. Part of the problem is presentation. Ordinary Filipino restaurants, both here and abroad, do not make their offerings visually attractive. As even Filipinos complain, “Everything looks brown!” And, because our restaurateurs skimp, they will not serve the sawsawan [dipping sauce] in a saucer but instead stock it in a bottle on the table. But as serious, as this lack of concern for the customer, is the question of self-respect. While Filipinos love their cuisine, when asked about its characteristics, some answer, “There really is no Filipino cooking. It’s Spanish, it’s Chinese.” Or worse, according to a Filipina who runs a Thai restaurant, “Kare-kare1 like the rest is bastardized cooking.”

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Carrying a Philippine passport is often a liability when traveling. But projecting our Filipino culture in the Global Village can be an asset—if we know how.

During my first trip to Europe as a young man in the 1960s, my father and I met two poor, non-Spanish speaking Filipino migrant workers. They introduced us to a group of Spanish and Spanish American migrant workers at a parish in Hamburg who had formed an association for mutual help. Although the language used was, of course, Spanish, the two Filipinos had been invited to join. The idea was that, being Filipino, they too shared a common Hispanic heritage and should thus be helped.



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