Reflection: Inequality & the Americanization of the Philippines

A substantial wealth gap is one of the most noticeable attributes of capitalist countries, including the United States. The Philippines is no different. From “slum” communities like Smokey Mountain, named for its residents’ practice of burning trash, to the upscale district of Makati, Manila is a perfect example of this phenomenon. The most densely populated city in the world showcases communities at every income level with seemingly no overlap or mobility between them.

Before my trip to the Philippines, I read The Jakarta Method by Vincent Bevins. There, he outlines the covert actions by the United States to quash communist movements around the world and put in place capitalist governing forces, including a number of brutal dictatorships. Under American imperialism, the Philippines experienced this after their sovereignty was denied by the sale of the nation from Spain. During the subsequent war, the US terrorized the region through forced labor, torture, and starvation, ultimately genociding hundreds of thousands of Filipinos. The US then transitioned the country from military rule to US-backed (read: capitalist) self-governance.

Bevins ends The Jakarta Method by positing that the term “globalization” should be replaced by “Americanization”. Instead of referring to the world as globalized, suggesting the incorporation of a multitude of cultures, practices, and traditions, we have instead witnessed the replacement of indigenous knowledge with Western ways of being. Manila is a testament to this. The sidewalks are filled with children sporting LeBron James jerseys carrying phones made in the style of Apple’s iPhone, while the traffic-filled streets would make Henry Ford and ExxonMobil proud. Everywhere, the pursuit of Americanization is palpable, perpetuated by the staggering wealth gap and bleak loss of indigenous culture.

In Davao, a city known for its rejection of American imperialism, the wealth gap still exists but to a lesser degree. Home to a large population of Muslim indigenous tribes, Davao is famous for its annual Kundayawan Festival. Each August, thirteen indigenous tribes gather from around the province of Mindanao to showcase cultural dress, dance, and musical instruments before congregating at a parade filled with flower-adorned floats. Famous for its bountiful harvest of tropical fruits like durian, pomelo, and mangosteen, the city and its people come together to celebrate these native crops alongside the rich indigenous culture.

This combination of American imperialist ideals and indigenous traditions is widely apparent in the Filipino school system. During my time in Davao, I spent the week at Philippine Science High School (PSHS), a highly-selective public STEM school funded by the Department of Science, and Santa Ana National High School, a comprehensive high school serving over 6,000 students. While the two schools differed significantly with regards to demographics and resources, Filipino hospitality and a strong sense of community were on prominent display at both. The two schools regaled our Fulbright group with Mindanaoan song and dance, along with bountiful plates of delicious snacks like turon and pinaypay, making our visit a true privilege.

At PSHS, a sense of rigor and duty to the nation saturated each class. The students are some of the highest-achieving in the province, and there was a clear message that they needed to excel in STEM to serve their community. Though over 20% of Mindanao is Muslim, only a handful of students at the school are not Christian. Additionally, the majority of students come from high-wealth families. At Santa Ana, however, the teachers had their work cut out for them. Despite class sizes of 40+ students, the Department of Education does not fund basic supplies like paper, books, writing materials, or computers for teachers to project slideshows. In each class, we saw a number of students wearing hijabs or niqabs, exemplifying the indigenous and religious diversity of the region. Though these difficult learning conditions would be enough to discourage even the most motivated of students in the US, at Santa Ana we received a warm welcome from the engaged and respectful scholars, and all of us noted the strong sense of joy and community emanating from each classroom.

The stark difference between PSHS and Santa Ana showcases a pattern similar to what we see in the US. As a teacher at a low-income, comprehensive high school in Oakland, California, the situation at Santa Ana was not unfamiliar to me. While we generally have more resources in the US, American teachers serving historically-marginalized communities experience the same lack of funding and large class sizes as our Filipino counterparts. Similarly, the responsibility to facilitate student sensemaking and be creative with our limited resources falls on the individual teacher. While the work that educators are doing around the world is commendable, we should not be in this situation. This pervasive disparity in the global educational system is something that Elon Musk or Jeff Bezos could fix with a fraction of their fortunes; spoils that have only been amassed because of the plunder of disenfranchised communities facilitated by capitalism and corruption.

While the commonalities between my own experience in the classroom and those of the Filipino teachers I collaborated with warmed my heart, it also showcased the deep-rooted nature of the Americanization of the world and its continued perpetuation. In each classroom that I visited, students were taught obedience and uniformity. Furthermore, all instruction was in English, a requirement from the Filipino Department of Education. Since the Thomasites, teachers sent by the US government to pacify the Filipinos through education in the early 1900s, schools have been used as a platform to not only teach American ideals but to  facilitate participation in capitalism by the next generation. I was honored to be an educator in the Philippines, but this made my role complex; in what ways was I there to serve the same purpose?

Though I have only begun to consider how to unpack that question, this experience affirmed my commitment to facilitating critical consciousness and scientific literacy in my students, values that many Filipino educators similarly hold. I hope to continue the conversation with many of the phenomenal teachers I worked alongside so that the next generations can disinvest from the fallacy of capitalism and rebuild their connection to traditional knowledge, a shift that we will need to address the globalized, or Americanized, issues harming the world today.