“Masked but not silenced:” A linguistic landscape study of pandemic items translated into protest signs


The pandemic is a game changer, especially in the new modes of signs in multisectoral protests. These new modes of protest signs, crafted in creativity and innovation, carry visual and symbolic power. We will try to delve into this later on.  


In this era of systemic oppression, a radical call to move towards social transformation and social emancipation is what we need. As long as there is socio-economic divide, protest signs used to express the language of dissent will continue to grow and evolve dynamically. 


But first let us define what is a sign. 


Backhaus (2006) defines sign as “any piece of text within a spatially definable frame.” The linguistic, graphic, and pragmatic elements which can be found in a protest sign adds up to its complex semiotic constitution. 


Signs can transform the language of dissent from erasure to visibility (Seals, 2015). The implicit meanings and social meanings conveyed through protest signs make linguistic landscape (LL) an established area for research.


A protest sign’s goal is to disturb the comfortable, as what the England-based street artist and political activist Banksy said. 


Why is the protest sign placed there? What is the goal of the sign-makers? Who is their intended recipient? These are the questions I constantly have in mind whenever I encounter a protest sign held by a member of a progressive group. 

 

As a youth who actively engages in political discussions, the existence of progressive signs will always be vital on my end to stand up against any forms of oppression. Such contexts carry language ideologies which can be unmasked in a linguistic landscape study. 


The aforementioned notions will serve as the core of this article. Many insights can be derived from it. But first let me give an overview of the study. 


In times of pandemic, how are you ‘Inang Bayan’? 

 

In March of 2020, the Philippines confirmed its first local transmission of the coronavirus. With the sharp increase of the COVID-19 cases, the Philippine government enacted the “Bayanihan to Heal as One” or “We Recover as One” response developed by the Inter-Agency Task Force for the Management of Infectious Diseases (IATF-EID) to mitigate the spread of the virus and alleviate the socioeconomic impact of the pandemic. 


The country’s pandemic response heavily relied upon draconian measures in its implementation. The coronavirus was deemed a “threat” and the government’s response was framed as a “war” against an invisible enemy. The practice of wearing face masks and face shields were strictly enforced, along with carrying quarantine passes to limit the mobility of the people. 


After two years in the pandemic, however, the government response remains inadequate. It is apparent that a multitude of Filipinos have greatly experienced the loss of employment due to closure of industries, lack of health infrastructure, and insufficient financial subsidy among many others. 


Majority of us have been disproportionately affected by this widening inequality gap exacerbated by the pandemic. It is true, inequality will always prevail in a society run by systems of oppression and exploitation.


The renewed surge of the coronavirus cases, brought by the Omicron variant, also mounted a stronger clamor for an urgent demand to realign the public funds. Particularly, a call for free mass testing, health treatment, stepped up health literacy, reliable vaccine research and production, retrofitting of schools, policy for higher wages, lowered consumer prices, economic aid, and other immediate needs of the Filipino people. 


To protest or not? Filipinos deserve better.


A lot of us have expressed our outrage at the gross lack of preparations of the Duterte government to address the COVID-19 pandemic. 


Filipinos are tired. 


We have been demanding efficient preventive measures for so long. We do not want to bear again the burden of the failed pandemic response and complacency of the government.


It is also undeniable that grievances are rampant against human rights during the pandemic.

 

I clearly remember having to wake up one morning in July 2021 with this Rappler headline: “Cops kill 2 activists writing protest slogan in Albay - rights group.”


With my already ‘anxiety-induced’ self due to the struggles brought by the pandemic, I still need to wake up to this news. It is as if all the sufferings experienced by the majority of us were not enough.


Photo from Bicol.PH FB page

Link to the photo source


The protest sign made my heartbeat stop. It shows an unfinished graffiti which can be read as, “Duterte ibags” or “Duterte Ibagsak'' had the activists finished painting it (in English translation: Oust Duterte). 


Behind this protest sign is a tragic story of two slain activists who are simply painting the graffiti on Banao Bridge, Albay. They were gunned down, rained with bullets. “Vandalism is a crime,” the police simply said. “It is part of our Operation Pinta,” they added. 


A protest sign was the exchange for their life. 


The authoritarian rule of the current administration made all things worse with a series of red tagging, political arrests, and extra-judicial killings. 


Aside from the pandemic struggles, the Filipinos have to face the brunt of the threats brought by the Anti-Terrorism Act of 2020.


The ‘signs’ of the oppressed


In the Philippine socio-political landscape, there is an undeniably stronghold of activism. Pandemic-related protests dominated the discourse of on-site and online rallies. More Filipinos joined the protests to raise their plight to obtain adequate solutions from the government. 


This is despite the fact that there is a hurdle in the freedom of expression brought forth by the Anti-Terror Act. The act urged the instigation of militarization to eradicate any individual or organization expressing dissent against the government. In fact, human rights activists have been calling out the administration to stop this ‘dirty war’ against dissent. 


Human rights activists amplify the voice of the masses. The masses are our common people and all those who are not well-represented in a society entrenched in marginalization and discrimination. 


You matter, therefore, your voice should be heard” that is first and foremost the function of protest signs. 


In the middle of demonstrations, protesters usually carry a variety of signs in tarpaulin banners, placards out of cardboards with painted big fonts, and t-shirts and umbrellas with striking art of social inclusion and scribbled phrases of dissent. 


The content of a protest sign is absolutely crucial. It needs to convey a message that is meant to reach not just those living in the upper class of the society, but all those who are not yet aware of the social dilemma. It is largely meant to reach those who are blinded by privileges. 


I would like to leave these two ideas:


Protest sign is not a mess nor is protest an unnecessary noise. There will always be more to protest signs than what they say, ‘making an unnecessary mess out of “paid” rallies.’


In this time of pandemic, protest signs in LL actually just grew stronger as there have been innovative and creative ways to express dissent. Interestingly, these new modes are the pandemic items which have been translated into protest signs. 


As this is an interesting focal area to survey, I attempted to seek answers on these questions: How did protesters turn pandemic items into protest signs? How can the use of language be described in the signs? What do these languages in the protest signs represent? 


Let us move on to (I shall call) the ‘meaning-making’ of the study.


‘Meaning-making’: Concepts, theoretical framework, and methodology


Protest signs can be analyzed thoroughly using the framework and methodological approaches proposed by Scollon and Scollon (2003) in Discourses in Place


I am interested in how protesters produce their language of dissent through new modes of visual artifacts.


In my choice of data, Scollon and Scollon’s LL model helped me in the analysis of the ‘meaning-making’ of protest signs. I focused on its second element which is centered on visual semiotics, adopted from Kress and van Leeuwen (1996). To be specific, through understanding and describing the visual modes of its materials, characteristics of the language in the signs, and the people whom the signs represent. We can call these concepts as the frames of the picture and outside the frame. 


I employed a visual and text analysis of the protest signs through markers of modality such as color, differentiation, contextualization, and depth. I also included in the analysis the characteristics of the language in these new forms of protest signs and what the languages in the protest signs represent. 


Given the situational consequences brought by the pandemic, I decided to collect the protest signs through the Facebook platform of all MAKABAYAN bloc organizations. I considered all the left wing movements since the majority of them are the victims of red-tagging despite their efforts to stand up with the marginalized sectors. 


The data collection started from March 2020, which is the start of the implementation of the series of quarantines and lockdowns in the country, up to November 2021 were quarantine restrictions downgrades to Alert Level 2. A total of 6  protest signs were selected in the process.


Turning the capitalist produced pandemic items into ‘voices of dissent'


Photo from the Gabriela Youth FB page


The protest sign was particularly attached on the left side of the face mask. We can see an image of a masked female youth carrying a pink-colored placard which states, “Ligtas na balik eskwela ipaglaban!” in bold blue font. 


However, I was wondering why the sign was particularly placed on its left side. Maybe to represent the political stance of the human rights movement? Well, this would be another study. For now, let me state its visual and symbolic power. 


The face mask conveys underlying meanings — as an item required by the government to mitigate the spread of the coronavirus, and a symbolic one, perhaps to limit the freedom of expression in conveying dissent against the government. But did the mask ever silence the voice of the youth? Definitely, no. 


The laptop can be seen as a larger element in the frame. Its symbolic power illustrates the paradigm shift in the Philippine education landscape from face-to-face (f2f) classes to online learning. On its visual meaning, it is the online gadget which a lot of individuals in the educational sector lack.


There are only two colors in the sign: blue and pink. Of course, the shade of pink, as well as the female youth, represents the members of the sector who produced the sign, the Gabriela Youth. The shade of blue could have solely represented the color of the Zoom video conference platform in the background. But it represents a deeper meaning for the movement. It signifies the meaning of freedom. 


It is also noticeable that the microphone icon was muted, but the video icon was left turned on. This illustrates that even if the youth can be seen, the government is just turning a blind eye on their plea. Moreover, they are being silenced to eradicate their freedom to be heard. 


Let us move on to the language present in the sign.


 “Ligtas na balik eskwela ipaglaban!” I would like to highlight the word, “ipaglaban” which translates to “fight back” (verb) in English. It conveys a language of dissent represented by the bold font format and an exclamation point. 


The protest sign conveys a powerful message addressed to the government. It is a response in Malacanang’s approval holding limited f2f classes without ensuring the safety of all the affected sectors. It is also meant to denounce their underfunded, ill-equipped, and inadequate implementation of distance-based learning. 


The social actor, who represents the youth sector, sends a vital message that we will never be silenced. The youth serves as the voice across all sectors heavily affected by this social dilemma.

 

Photo from the Kilusang Magbubukid ng Pilipinas (KMP) FB page


Here is another face mask story translated into a protest sign. The sign-makers chose the legendary du30 icon from the Philippine political meme landscape. The du30 icon is a representation of mockery on Rodrigo Duterte’s governance. His face serves as the letter “O” in the word “OUST!”. The black bold font presents a heavier appearance to put emphasis on throwing out the government. 


To “oust” (verb) expresses the outrage of the masses ending in an exclamation point. The statement reveals the protesters' impending mass action. 


The social actor is a middle-aged member of the Kilusang Magbubukid ng Pilipinas (KMP), a peasant movement for displaced farmers. She represents our farmers, who are the key figures in bringing food to our tables, but have been marginalized for so long. Thus, it is not surprising that they are among those who have been heavily affected by the widening equality gap. The sign is significantly attached on the middle of the protester’s mask to put emphasis on the call’s urgency. 


                                            Photo from the Gabriela Youth FB page


The sign is a creative and innovative way to express dissent, right? A face shield translated into a protest sign, produced by the Gabriela Youth. The art in the sign is strikingly youthful and full of humor too! 


But it is not enough to describe it this way. Let us determine its visual and symbolic power one by one. 


Its base material is a face shield, a symbol of the corrupt government and the capitalist system. Perhaps, they used it to ridicule these two oppressive systems.


The social actor also wears a mask which states, “resist” in bold red font. The red color symbolizes a meaning of courage, anger, and war. Its symbolism clearly conveys the message of the youth — their declaration of war (translated into protest) out of anger brought by socio economic struggles.


Now let us move on to the face shield’s visual elements. 


There is a pig-like image of Duterte, holding a gun, and an injection. He is sitting happily on a deck of dollars with the deleted word “social.” The image of Duterte can already be translated as a derisive to his existence. Moreover, there is Bong Go in the background holding a gold-spoon with a syrup of the words “Cha-Cha” or charter change. Duterte is portrayed as a “bonjing” or a person who is immature or who never grew past childhood.


Of course, we will not leave mentioning the presence of Debold Sinas in military uniform. Sinas hands are noticeably raised upwards, as if worshiping Duterte. I would like to translate this instead as: Sinas will bow down to whatever Duterte instructs him to do. The image’s background can be seen with a lot of protesters, coming from diverse socioeconomic backgrounds. We can name them the Filipino masses. 


Ayuda, bakuna, at ligtas na lipunan, ipaglaban” is the sign’s statement of dissent emphasizing the word “ipaglaban” or to fight back. There are three elements highlighted in the protest sign: ayuda (subsidy), bakuna (vaccine), and ligtas na lipunan (safe society). In the middle of the pandemic, Filipinos are struggling to receive these responses from the government. 


The protest sign is a satire showing the socioeconomic state of the country — where the President is surrounded by clowns, and the clown himself; where he prioritizes the instigation of militarization, pursuit of nonsensical provisions in the middle of pandemic, and support to imperialism over an efficient pandemic response. Overall, the protest sign’s language represents the Filipino people — our plea to obtain adequate solutions from the government. 


                                   Photo from Save Our Schools Network FB page


Here’s another face shield translated into a protest sign. But it is eerily controversial! Won’t you agree? The face shield was painted in brown, blocking the whole face of the protester. The words “no to red tagging” are scribbled in bold font red. 


Before delving further, I would like to emphasize this first. The social actor in the photo is an IP. She is a Lumad being taken care of by the Save Our Schools Network, a human rights organization supporting the Lumad Bakwit schools. 


The visual symbol of the brown paint represents the ancestral lands of the Lumad which they have been fighting for so long. This is also the reason why they have been marginalized, displaced, and hunted down as if they are criminals. The red color symbolizes their blood-stained freedom and wrath against alleged government attacks. 


The language articulated in the protest sign warrants an end to state imposed violence leading to unwarranted (extrajudicial) killings of the Lumads — their arrest and torture at the hands of the military forces and private agents. The “NO RED TAGGING” plea not just represents the whole Lumad community, but every individual or organization which has been maliciously blacklisted due to their expression of dissent. 




Photos from Kabataan Party-List (KPL) FB page


My last entry in this article are two photos of protesters wearing the PPE in red carrying the signs pasismo (fascism) and pagtraydor sa bayan (to betray the nation). These are the usual words protesters associate with Duterte as an act of mockery. The social actors are youth members of the Kabataan party-list (KPL). 


The PPE in red symbolizes a message of anger against the government. In this context, the color red represents the outrage youth sector. 


In the pasismo sign, we can see an image of a bald man leading an army. A wildly popular fascist leader, charismatic at that. Sounds familiar, right? Just like the man behind the DDS. A seemingly demiurgic of Hitler but actually a carino brutal — a gangster of national chaos.


Meanwhile, in the pagtraydor sa bayan sign we can see the flag of China and a man seemingly riding an air balloon. This is a strong representation of the man sitting in the government, who was called by protesters as a Chinese lapdog. 


The protest signs conveys a strong message of dissent. Perhaps, the culmination of all the other protest signs to ridicule the government. 


“Masked but not silenced” 


The role of protest signs convey not just the sentiments of the social actors who carry it. Navigating its deeper meaning, it stands as representations of the systemic oppression which prevails in a society blinded by power and deafened by privileges.


Nonetheless, even in the middle of a pandemic, multisectoral protests have innovative and creative ways to express dissent. The face mask, face shield, and PPE are all the safety gears against the spread of the virus. Indeed, pandemic items have gone through a process of resemiotization. 


All these pandemic items, the resources the marginalized sectors lack, convey a visual and symbolic power. 


The items signify the capitalist oppression brought by higher prices and insufficient stocks of face masks and PPE during the first wave of the pandemic. The face shield, on the other hand, is a symbol of corruption. We are the only country who remained wearing face shields, right? Isn’t it that face shields were imported from China? And this would be another story, so I will stop here. 


Overall, the protest signs represent all Filipinos who are in resistance against the struggles brought by exploitative systems. The protest signs are not just mere tools to express the discourse of dissent. Protest signs motivate a call for ‘social change’ — to move towards social transformation and social emancipation. 


Masked but not silenced” is the main call of the activists. They will never be silenced by a simple mouthpiece clothed in a protective gear against the coronavirus. 


How about you? How are you going to amplify your voice? ◼️


References:

Backhaus, P. (2006). Multilingualism in Tokyo: a look into the linguistic landscape. International Journal of Multilingualism, 3 (1), 52-66. doi: 10.1080/14790710608668385

Kress, G., & van Leeuwen, T. (1996). Reading images: the grammar of visual design. Routledge.

Scollon, R., & Scollon, S. (2003). Discourse in Place: language in the material world. Routledge.

Seals, C. A. (2015). Overcoming erasures: reappropriation of space in the linguistic landscape of mass-scale protests. In R. Rubdy & S. Ben Said (Eds.), Conflict, exclusion, and dissent in the linguistic landscape (pp. 223–238). Palgrave Macmillan.


The author of this blog is a graduate student from the
College of Arts and Letters, University of the Philippines Diliman.





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