One of the fundamental precepts in the legal scriptures introduced by western colonialism to our society is the so called “due process” in the operation of our justice system.
Author Archives: DON J. PAGUSARA
A couple of days ago I came upon this short essay written by my son Kahlil. From the moment I laid my eyes on its entirety it has not ceased to intrigue me, asserting itself as it does graciously into my fragmentary rumination.
Under a system of governance founded on deception and chicanery, it is always good to be inquisitive. The questioning mind generates the energy and enthusiasm for study and research.
And the cerebral fray continues and the quality of the air in the resultant debate has gotten hotter and hotter, there’s a need to let the atmosphere cool down.
On the occasion of the inauguration of the Coal-Fired Power Plant in Davao City, we find it imperative to know the hidden truth about Coal.
There’s no denying the fact that for a long period the Lumad peoples in the hinterlands were in a state of passivity or apparent apathy in the midst of the misfortunes that have befallen them as a forsaken segment of the Philippine body politic.
![A Viable Alternative [Part 2]](https://davaotoday.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/12/A-Viable-Alternative-Part-2-850x443.jpg)
Let us continue to listen to the critical observations of Roland Simbulan in his book “The World Is My Classroom”. Latin America is one of the many countries he has visited as a student of world politics.
Verily, the lowland Filipinos have only replaced the foreign colonizers in colonizing the racial and blood brothers and sisters—the Lumads in the countryside.
Around a long-neck bottle of Emperador we gathered and happily exchanged holiday greetings and peered on each other’s radiant faces and exhibited our dirty-white teeth to one another and hummed or sang the jingle bells and silver bells the way we wanted our uneasy joy to manifest on this bright evening twodays before Christmas Day.
Reading Roland Simbulan’s book The World is a Classroom — and this time about Vietnam— I couldn’t help but breath a mute cry of deep, deep, deep admiration. My heart skipped and pumped into my eyes a teardrop.
