Meeting F. Sionil Jose

In December of 2002, a group of Filipino American writers and artists, including myself, had the special privilege of meeting the great Filipino novelist F. Sionil Jose. The gathering took place on the campus of San Francisco State University.

As might be the case when a small conclave of admirers are put in the same room as a novelist possessing the stature of Sionil Jose, there conceivably would be an atmosphere of tension, of feeling intimidated, perhaps even self-conscious. Such an environment can create a distance between appreciative subjects and the esteemed object.

But Jose entered the nondescript SF State classroom with an easygoing demeanor and a benevolent visage to match, thus putting all of us immediately at ease. What ensued was a relaxed, unrestricted dialogue between artist and audience on a variety of topics. 

Years later, when he was well into his nineties, I was disconcerted by Jose’s controversial remarks on Rodrigo Duterte and Maria Ressa. This did tarnish the memory I had of our meeting some twenty years before. But in all objectivity, Jose’s highly-criticized public statements cannot diminish the historical power and gravitas of his works and his standing as a Philippine National Artist.

I have taken the liberty of including the article I composed about our intimate get-together here. 

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PHILIPPINE POST (June 14, 2002)

Filipino author F. Sionil Jose is considered to be one of the most distinguished writers in the history of modern Asian literature. Writer Ian Buruma once called Jose the “foremost Filipino novelist in English.” The country of which he has written so eloquently and intensely about, the Philippines, has officially declared him to be a National Artist for Literature and a living national treasure. 

Jose’s works of fiction collectively form the highest literary standards by which other contemporary Asian writers evaluate their own narratives.

Since the first publication of his fictional opuses, starting with The Pretenders (1962) of the Rosales Saga string of novels, Jose has earned a great deal of respect and acclaim from readers all over the world. Yet, despite all the awards and accolades that he has been showered with over the many years that he has been writing, Jose prefers to convey a certain amount of modesty around his literary aura.

It is as if Jose wishes to remind others, as well as himself, that achievement and success can truly be appreciated only if they are taken with a strong dose of humility. Humility enables Jose to understand his rightful place among his fellow human beings. This in turn, allows Jose to draw inspiration from the panorama of human emotions and experiences, especially those belonging to Filipinos. Those emotions and experiences are embedded within the characters of his novels.

It was possibly this penchant for modesty that persuaded Jose to meet informally with members of the Philippine American Writers Association (PAWA), a grouping of Filipino American writers and artists based in the San Francisco Bay Area. The winter 2002 meeting took place on the campus of San Francisco State University. There, seven PAWA members (this writer included) engaged in a freewheeling discussion with Jose on some of his views on writing and on other subjects. 

By meeting’s end, it was clear that the awe that is usually generated by Jose’s literary reputation and cosmopolitan knowledge had been eclipsed by his casual demeanor and comfortable familiarity with conversing amongst the PAWA members.

Indeed, Jose’s insistence on being called “Frankie” only reinforced the intimacy the group felt with this celebrated author.

Beginning the discussion by responding to the question of what it takes to be a quality writer, Jose stressed to the group that writers first of all, “must not allow themselves to be seduced by the good life.” In other words, “writers must resist falling prey to the temptation of financial rewards, material possessions, and snobbish notoriety.”

Jose revealed that long ago, he himself fell victim to being “seduced for comfort.” He believes that extreme self-importance and the luxurious creature comforts that are enjoyed by the affluent only “deprive writers of the ability to write about life in an exceptional and important way.” What Jose means by this is to “write stories that are motivated by the endless search for social justice and moral order among people.”

The eternal quest for justice and morality in society forms an overriding theme in Jose’s body of writings. He focuses this quest specifically on the Philippines and figures it into the conflict between rich and poor in that country. For Jose, many of “the rich act the role of the exploiter of their less fortunate countrymen.”

Jose concludes furthermore that the “extreme divisions between the upper and lower classes only perpetuate injustice and immorality in the Philippines.” In his novels, poverty and class conflict present tall obstacles to the dream of a more ideal society, a society that is righteous, decent, and compassionate.

Jose does try to remain positive by seeing a ray of light in the darkness, for in his view the much-maligned lower classes are starting to “show greater consciousness of their social condition.” Jose’s books generally have this ever-growing social consciousness of the Filipino poor and downtrodden at heart. His hope for the masses is one of the driving forces that keeps him writing so energetically, now well into his seventies.

Citing the historical dissident figures of Albert Camus and Jose Rizal as two of his strongest influences, Jose believes that it is clear what the ultimate solution is for the Philippines: “I have said it before and I will say it again. What the Philippines needs is a revolution...one that is not necessarily violent or bloody,” but one that Jose feels should carry over the nationalist sentiments of the 1896 uprising against the Spanish.

The success of such a revolution would depend on considerable support from Filipinos residing in America. Jose calls on “Filipinos in the United States to help the folks back home to do the revolution,” a revolution that will bring about an end to not only the socio-economic poverty of the country, but also to what he calls “the poverty of the spirit” that is afflicting Filipinos today.

This poverty of the spirit is tied to what Jose perceives---based on his personal impressions---are Filipinos’s obsession with material things, their tendency to be lazy, their history of political and economic mismanagement and their weak ethics. Jose laments that until this spiritual poverty is done away with by the changing of Filipino attitudes, the Philippines will remain poor in every meaning of the word.

It should be said that Jose has been criticized by many Filipinos for these remarks. Broadly labeling one’s countrymen “lazy” or “yabang” as he has done in the past, is to facilely generalize Filipinos. 

Jose has tried his best to live up to his calls on other Filipinos to follow a spiritually-oriented and constructive life that is not governed by idleness, vanity, nor by the desire for material riches. 

As an example, Jose recounted that during the 1950s, he was offered to join a major corporation in the Philippines where he could have received a hefty salary. Instead, Jose chose the less lucrative but spiritually-rewarding profession of writing, first as a journalist, and then later as a novelist.

Jose also proudly states that he “can say to any man that I lived on my own income and that I never once took a bribe in my entire life.” His claim to independence and incorruptibility is encouraging to hear because it forms a principled way of life that other Filipinos can look up to.

Jose shrugs off the common impression that the tales of the rich and famous are far more intriguing than those of the everyday Filipinos struggling below them on the social ladder. The lives of the wealthy may be pleasurable, but as Jose observes, “you can be happy and successful, but your story won’t be interesting.”

When asked by one PAWA member if a writer should ever be satisfied with what they compose, Jose answered that he “never met a writer who was happy.” Jose expands on this by commenting that “art thrives on discontent.”

To be discontented with themselves creatively and intellectually is Jose suggests, something of a shared value between all good artists and writers. This for him, is one of the things that true art is founded on. Jose thinks that “discontentment represents a winning formula for putting together an excellent literary work.” It is a philosophy that has served him well as an author.

Jose adds that as dedicated writers, we should always be our own worst critics, “not just in terms of how well we write, but in what we write about.” It is vital, in Jose's opinion, “for a writer of conscience to put the stories of social injustice of the oppressed and the disadvantaged on paper and into words that will express their suffering.”

He confesses at the same time that “I know in the end that words are futile” since they cannot fully articulate what the Filipino people, in the case of Jose's books, are going through.

Jose also chose to reflect on his official designation as a Philippine national treasure. Jose mentioned that because he is a national hero the Philippine government will grant him the honor of a state funeral. But the reason for Jose's gratification at receiving the privilege of a state funeral goes back to his emphasis on humility and is far removed from any egotistical craving for fame or immortality on his part.

“I'm thankful for the President's naming me a living national treasure. It is not for the honor of being called that, or for the 11- or 16- or 21-gun salute when I am interred, but because the government will be reimbursing me while I am alive for the thousands of pesos in medical expenses I am incurring for my diabetic condition. We writers do not earn much you know, and for that I am grateful.”

At the end of the meeting, the PAWA members seem to have made a fine impression on Jose as he unquestionably did on them, not so much for his literary prominence, but for his down-to-earth personality and warm sense of humor, much of which he displayed in front of us. 

The group also knew that they had reached a stage of close camaraderie with Jose when one of the PAWA members asked him tongue-in-cheek if we were all invited to his state funeral. Jose laughed heartily and said, with a face that sparkled with delight, kindliness, and sincerity, “Of course, of course.”

ALLEN GABORRO