Congressmeow is the point

Congressmeow is the point | Daily Tribune

Janette then rises to clarify a point raised by Janette regarding the statement previously made by Janette.

Janette objects. Janette accepts the objection. Janette thanks Janette for her valuable input.

The session is suspended because Janette would like to consult Janette.

They looked at this arrangement, all 317, and said: “This is healthy democracy.”

Then Kiko Barzaga walks by outside. One little meow. Suddenly every Janette in the Batasan snaps at the cat: “Now, that is disturbingly weird!”

The cat was expelled for refusing to become a Janette. They offered him a chance to be Janette 318.

People ask if this is martial law. In our imagination, martial law involves generals. Tanks. Stars on shoulders. Dark sunglasses.

Now, the central figure appears to be someone called Doc Nanay. Janette’s branding. Doc Nanay.

You hear a name like that and immediately you have concerns. First of all, which is it? Are you a doctor? Are you a mother?

You don’t need both merged in a single authority figure.

That’s too much power for one human being.

A doctor says: “Take this medicine.” A mother says: “Take this medicine.”

Together they’re unbeatable.

Then you find out Doc Nanay is also a politician.

At that point, there is no appeal. No due process. No Supreme Court. You take the medicine. The medicine passes unanimously.

And somehow the cat is the threat to democracy?

Congressmeow is the most democratic title ever invented. Congressman? Senator? Your Honor? Boring. Congressmeow sounds like something the public invented.

Every Filipino knows Congressmeow. Very few know 317 Janettes. The cat was the last proof the building belonged to the public.

The charge is that he was too strange for Congress. Like a clean garbage bag damaging the reputation of Payatas. Like showing up in hell and being told your behavior is inappropriate. By Congress. The institution specifically designed to contain difficult people. Stubborn people. The impossible. The people who won’t sit down. Shut up. Nod politely while everyone agrees with each other.

If the founders wanted harmony, they would have put up a choir. They built a legislature instead designed to survive disagreement. Where ambition crashes into ambition. Where egos collide with egos. Where every member enters convinced he is the smartest person in the building. And leaves wondering why everyone else is so stupid.

That’s democracy. Messy. Loud. A little embarrassing. Sometimes very embarrassing.

The alternative is not democracy. The alternative is a club. Where everybody thinks alike. Votes alike. Talks alike. Nods alike. Where the only person who looks strange is the person who doesn’t.

That’s why Kiko matters. He represented a piece of the country. No representative arrives alone. Hundreds of thousands arrive with him, each carrying one stubborn little piece of the national character.

The careful. Reckless. The diplomat. The loudmouth. Dreamer. Workhorse. The peacemaker. The troublemaker.

Even the troublemakers.

Especially the troublemakers.

Democracy is supposed to survive representation by people it dislikes.

The beauty of a republic was never that it found the best among us. The beauty is that it somehow found room for all of us.

Even the cat.