“Immature poets imitate; mature poets steal; bad poets deface what they take, and good poets make it into something better, or at least something different.”

—T. S. Eliot, “Philip Massinger“

While we may be growing old, straining under the constant pressure of deadlines, and feeling overworked—and who, in truth, does not?—we may not be as jaded as we think we are: when blogger Jaemark Tordecilla of Fire Quinito exposed the fact that multi-awarded writer Alfred “Krip” Yuson had plagiarized entire paragraphs from an article by GMA News Online sports reporter Rey Joble for a piece that was published in the current issue of Rogue Magazine, we must admit to feeling no small degree of disappointment and outrage.

We find that we can only agree with Tordecilla when he concludes his post with, “Fuck that. We deserve so much better.” That such a sentiment has to be articulated in the first place is almost as dismaying as the wrongdoing itself, of course, because Yuson is no callow wordsmith, and therefore should be no stranger to the concept of intellectual honesty. Insofar as the realm of Philippine letters can be conceived of as a game, Yuson is one of its most prominent professional players, which even the most cursory survey of his curriculum vitae would show: he is the author and/or editor of several books in different genres, has won both local and international recognition for his work, evaluates the output of other, younger writers in competitions and workshops, and is a faculty member of the Department of English at Ateneo de Manila University.

While the arena of literary art might not be governed by a set of documented rules against plagiarism beyond the bounds of a contest, journalism and the academe certainly are: the former by the Journalist’s Code of Ethics formulated by the Philippine Press Institute and the National Press Club, and the latter by the Loyola Schools Code of Academic Integrity, which, if specific to the establishment at which Yuson teaches, doubtless contains provisions that are similar to, if not identical with, the guidelines of other colleges and universities.

We acknowledge at this juncture that the controversy lends itself well to questions about the notions of originality, authorship, and intellectual property, and their tenability in a milieu far removed from the one in which these were first invented and circulated; we aver, however, that any productive inquiry into the matter must begin by taking these as axiomatic, because such notions underwrite the very fields within which Yuson committed the malpractice of his craft (or sullen art). We agree here with the literary theorist Stanley Fish when he describes plagiarism as “an idea that makes sense only in the precincts of certain specialized practices and is not a normative philosophical notion”, but register a cavil against his assertion that it is “no big moral deal” to the extent that the precincts of creative writing, reportage, and higher education constitute local moral worlds that unavoidably shape and are shaped by the larger one that all human beings share.

Why Yuson would resort to the theft—or, in the interest of etymological accuracy, the kidnapping—of the words of another is perhaps of interest, but of no particular import, considering that plagiarism is commonly determined not by the intent of the author per se, but by how an author represents his or her work. Nor is the transgression, taken by itself, especially significant. What is at stake here, rather, is the integrity of Yuson, and his response to Tordecilla’s post contains no favorable portents: while it borrows the manners of an apology, it does not bear the marks of true contrition. It is, at absolute best, a specimen of offensive—and admittedly, eloquent—victimage. Not only does Yuson resort to flippant, melodramatic, and self-deprecating rhetoric that is calculated to minimize his personal accountability and preempt further criticism, but also he insults the intelligence of his readers by flinging a distinctly noxious red herring into their faces: the concept of editor as co-author, which, though not without merit in and of itself, completely and utterly fails in this situation to explain why Yuson did not credit Joble in the magazine article at all. Were Yuson to discover that a protégé had plagiarized his poetry in order to “arrive over and over // again at art” [1], would he accept from that student what he now expects us to swallow hook, line, and sinker? Or does Yuson ultimately rely on his formidable store of cultural capital to save him in the same way that a wealthy criminal depends on his money to keep him out of jail?

Equally ominous in this regard is the response from Yuson’s peers in pedagogy and literature, without whom he would not have attained his current stature: they have so far refused to publicly and categorically censure an act that they would not tolerate and likely have vociferously condemned had it been committed by their students, mentees, or non-literary figures (business mogul Manuel V. Pangilinan, say, or Supreme Court Associate Justice Mariano C. del Castillo). Do we find here an example of what the political scientist Elisabeth Noelle-Neumann has termed the “spiral of silence”? Will we see them “[moved], finally, to inaction” [2] on the strength of a convoluted, superficially penitent admission?

Or dare we imagine something more disturbing: that their behavior is indicative of complicity, of consent? And if so, how can we still believe in gatekeepers that undertake to defend ruins at the expense of monuments?

Notes

1. Alfred A. Yuson, “Andy Warhol Speaks to His Two Filipina Maids”, Mothers Like Elephants: Selected Poems and New, Pasig: Anvil Publishing, Inc., 2000, p. 43.
2. Yuson, “Pisces on Pisces”, Mothers Like Elephants, p. 117.

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Postscript: It has come to our attention that some readers of our statement are seeking a byline. We saw no need for one, because this post was a collaborative effort. We identify ourselves in the “About” page of this site. Thank you.

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