You might not believe it at first, but there are apparently thousands of Jason Ivler supporters—if his Facebook fan page proves anything. In less than a week, Ivler’s Facebook page went from 1,016 fans to 10,436 as of press time (the number grows every day, but when his mother, Marlene Aguilar, started granting interviews the other week, the fans tripled in a matter of hours). And no, it isn’t a massive display of irony, because many of these fans are dead serious about defending Ivler, whom they refer to as a kick-ass “gangsta,” the “Eminem of the Philippines,” or simply as “idol.”

Ivler, who allegedly gunned down Renato Ebarle Jr., in a display of road rage last November 18, was recently apprehended by the NBI following a shootout at his mother’s house on January 18. Footage of the early morning raid quickly made it to news channels and websites, as transfixed viewers watched the exchange of gunfire between the defiant Ivler and the NBI team. Days after the shootout, the Jason Ivler Facebook fan page was born.

Obviously, Ivler himself does not moderate the page. It is unclear who exactly the site administrators are, but Ivler’s fan page simply states in the personal information that he “loves Grand Theft Auto 4 and the movie Scarface.” The site administrators also took it upon themselves to speak for the accused, saying “It used to bother me being portrayed as this bad person, but now I feel that the public understands me better than some writer. There are people who know who I really am, and that’s good enough for me.”

Since last week, the Facebook page has attracted quite a lot of attention from defenders and detractors alike. Ivler’s page, which some parties had initially dismissed as a sarcastic outlet for detractors, is actually filled with messages of support, encouragement, and sometimes, outright adulation for the 28-year-old former member of the U.S. Army.

Others also staunchly defended their “idol,” pointing out that the trial had not yet begun, and that he was being made to go through an unfair trial by media. “Never judge the lives of other people, you never know what their journey is about. Team Ivler!” wrote Krystel Anne Alegre, one of the listed fans, on the page.

Nadine Antinew posted, “How sure are you that those guys who he allegedly killed are innocent? For all we know, parehas lang sila nagkataon lang na mas marunong gumamit ng baril yung isa. (they could both be the same, only [Ivler] knew how to work a gun better.) Just saying. By judging him, you’re just like us. Filthy, dirty, scumbag. We cant help it, after all, we are all humans.”

While some reasoned out that a fair trial had yet to be held, there were many who simply expressed their blind adulation based on his daring shootout with the police, his good looks, and the fact that he had released a rap album in the past. Kam A. Oriendo, for instance, told off detractors by saying: “Sa mga hater ni Jason Ivler: manahimik nalang kayo di niyo naman alam ang alamat ni Jason Ivler eh. Wala kayong talent sa rap.” (To Jason Ivler’s haters: just shut up, you don’t know anything about his story. You have no talent in rapping.”)

More controversial ones express their outright support for his deed. Gary Arcelo wrote, “Idol tama ginawa mo. Pinatay mo ang taong yon, siguro ubod ng yabang yon kasi anak ng something government. Ok yan idol… pareho tayo ng pag-iisip.” (Idol, what you did was right. You killed that person, he was probably arrogant because he was the son of a government official. Good job, idol… We think the same way.)

A blogger posted, “You have to admit, not since the Vizconde massacre had there been telegenic criminals [in the Philippines.]” Ivler has not yet spoken about the incident because of his confinement at the Quirino Memorial Medical Center, so whether his popularity will increase or not after his release remains to be seen.

Admittedly, the adulation that surrounds the currently incapacitated Ivler is similar to the dreamy sighs from colegialas 10 years ago, when a young, educated and preppy-looking Hubert Webb stood on trial for the Vizconde rape-slay. Or more recently, the reactions of women during the trial of Lance Corporal Daniel Smith, who made the news after he allegedly raped Suzette Nicolas and left her dazed on the street (he was eventually acquitted). The public showed a more forgiving—even adoring—side to the baby-faced men.

“It’s the lure of the bad boy,” writer Kinny Amparo said on Facebook. “The fact that he is mestizomakes it worse. If the guy were dark, fat and acne-studded there would be a mob outside the hospital to snatch and torture him!”

However, social networking in those times (Webb made headlines in 1994 and was convicted in 2000, while news of Smith appeared in 2005) had not yet completely taken off, so whispers about the good-looking yet wayward boys were limited to giggle-riddled discussions held in the privacy of homes, barbershops/salons, and offices. But since then, Facebook, Twitter and other Web 2.0 mediums had opened new forms of communication, where people could bravely offer their opinions to strangers as an anonymous web presence, or express their interests in all sorts of mundane activities.

Facebook, for instance, has fan pages and groups dedicated to obscure artists, films, pop culture references, controversies and other random items. While some are serious (“We Condemn The Maguindanao Massacre & Demand Justice For The Victims,” “Stop Violence Against Women”), there are also some that are admittedly nonsensical (“When I was your age, we had to blow on the video games to make them work,” “Edward Cullen is a fictional character and he will never love you,” “I’m always tired because I become a superhero at night”).

Many Facebook pages are put up in the spirit of fun and are not meant to be taken seriously. However, the more controversial ones—such as Ivler’s Facebook site, which is already established as a non-ironic, actual support page—should be given more attention, primarily because of the unethical content that could possibly influence uninformed parties, primarily the youth.

In 2009, Facebook received flak for initially refusing to delete groups/fan pages that supported the Holocaust denial. Spokesman Barry Schnitzen pointed out that the social networking site was created so ideas—even controversial ones—could be discussed. However, the groups (“Holocaust: A Series of Lies,” and “Holocaust is a Holohoax”) were eventually deleted, much to the relief of relatives of victims of the Holocaust. On a smaller scale, the Internet is also full of sites that support anorexia and bulimia, which are popular with teens looking to lose weight.
While Ivler’s case is in no way comparable to the Holocaust, and that yes, he is entitled to a fair trial, the principle is the same: his Facebook fan page glorifies the traits that got landed him in a gloomy hospital, riddled with bullets, in the first place. And the thing is, the page isn’t even something he started or maintains himself—it’s the work of his “fans,” who egg on their idol to continue his “gangsta” ways, or fail to see beyond his Amboy good looks and bad-boy vibe in order to analyze the issue at hand.

Is it an indication of things to come? Hopefully not. Some users, such as Julienne Yee, expressed their indignation over the page content. “I reported this to Facebook,” she wrote. “Hopefully, they do something about it. It’s just wrong.”

True, the Internet should be kept as a means of unregulated communication and self-expression. However, should unethical content really be left to its own devices, unguarded and ready to spring on unsuspecting and uninformed users?

Email the author at biancaconsunji@yahoo.com or visit www.twenteensomething.com

“Where are you?” he asked. “Get back inside your house!”

“I am inside my house,” I replied. “I’m knee-deep in water, and it’s looking worse every minute. That turtle that just swam by is from our fishpond outside.”

“What?” he said, stunned. “Then why are you even talking to me now? Go somewhere safe!”

“Right now, the house is the safest place for me. I’ll die if I head out in this weather,” I said. “And to be honest, things are so terrible, I just saw a frog ramming desperately on our window, trying to get shelter from the storm.”

Last Saturday started like any lazy, rainy Saturday – I woke up late, read the papers, had a leisurely breakfast, and checked Facebook and Twitter for updates. The updates were playful at first; “Mmm, staying in to enjoy the bed weather,” wrote one contact. But as the morning wore on and the downpour got heavier, the messages on my news feed took a worried tone. “Bed weather to bad weather” eventually became “Hey, the rain is really becoming scary,” and finally, “Oh my God, the street outside our house is flooded.”

I wrote a flippant status message, unaware of how bad the situation was becoming around the city. “Time for tall tales and hyperbole: how high is the flood in your area?”

A day later, when the floodwater finally receded and the electricity came back, I wanted to write a reply to myself: “Five feet deep inside the house, and probably six or seven outside. What the hell were you doing, having a relaxed Saturday morning when you could have been moving the furniture earlier?”

Abandoned houses

In my defense, when I woke up that morning, there was no way of knowing I would later find myself staring at the ground floor from the second floor landing, watching the floodwater rise steadily and wondering if it would reach the second level and eventually, drive my family and me out of the house.

We had shut off our electric power to prevent further damage, so my sister and I checked the water level by the dim candlelight. “It’s not raining anymore, and the water stopped rushing in,” she called out. “But it’s halfway up the stairs.”

I peered down the stairwell. “Did I just see another turtle swim by? They really must be enjoying this.”

There was no way of knowing what was happening in the world outside, because as the years went by, we had swapped radios for iPods and our Internet was off. But even without looking beyond our street, we knew that we were already luckier than most, even if our house was half-submerged in murky brown water.

Most of our immediate neighbors were away and had left their helpers in charge –powerless and afraid, the hapless women had understandably jumped on the first rafts that came our way and left the houses unattended. From our window, we listened to our neighbors’ abandoned dogs yelp and watched muddied toys, pots and pans float away on the street.

We managed to save most of our stuff, but even then, we started late because up until the last minute, we thought the flood wouldn’t seep into our house – but it did, and fast. So for an hour or so, we scrambled around the house, stuffing knickknacks into garbage bags and pushing couches up the stairs (the piano proved to be the biggest challenge; I remember thinking at that moment that life would have been a lot easier had we taken up the flute instead).

But all the adrenaline in the world couldn’t give us the strength to carry larger items, such as our refrigerator, which we found floating around in our living room a couple of hours later. When the fridge bobbed along and turned over, I felt a pang to see half the magnets – mementos from the different cities I visited – were missing. A box of French macaroons spilled out, leaving a trail of pastel-colored dots on the brown water.

Rescue

Later that night, people started screaming. I knew they were miles away, because we could hear only a faint chorus of assorted shouts and whistles; it was like hearing a raucous game muffled by the walls of a gym. We rushed to a window, but all we could see were distant flashes of light. And just as soon as they came, the shouts subsided as the flashes of light disappeared.

“It was probably a rescue team,” someone piped up.

“How many people do you think they could rescue?” The room fell silent again.

The first rescue team came to our house another couple of hours later.

Dressed in scuba diving gear, they tugged a string of inflated tubes.

“Do you need to be rescued?” they called up at our window.

By then, the rains had subsided and we could actually see the roofs of the cars on the street – a good sign. We opted not to go with the rescue team, but the family next door went along with the next one that came by; one by one, they strapped on life jackets and loaded their sobbing children on the Jet Ski. Another paddled by on an inflated pool.

By midnight, the water had drained out of the house and we went down to inspect the damage. We flipped on the lights to find everything caked in mud. The wallpaper had been peeled off in some spots, and in others, air bubbles lifted off the fresh paint off the walls. The sinks were heaped with dry soil, the drawers filled with dirty water. We started bailing out mud from the floor, and someone put on a pot of instant noodles in preparation for the long night ahead.

Aftermath

The next couple of days were marked by an outpouring of support from friends and neighbors. People came in to move furniture, clean the floor and bring food and cleaning supplies. While I was grateful for all the concern and support my friends showed, I also felt guilty that they were helping us when others needed them more – like people who didn’t have homes, which had no food. People who lost their loved ones.

At first, I got just a little defensive when friends and acquaintances texted, asking me if I had been rescued, offering shelter for when we could evacuate out of the house. But I realized that it was just pride taking over, and that hey, we actually did need help – we were much luckier than others who had lost everything, but that didn’t mean we didn’t need anyone.

I was mortified when friends came over and saw me covered in mud trying to clean out the house, but when they didn’t say anything and merely picked up mops to help push out the sludge, it was a sign that our friendship went beyond Rock Band parties and trivia night marathons. My Twitter and Facebook news feeds have been cleared of trivialities for the meantime, as most people put aside their own concerns in order to look out for others.

It’s been a week since Ketsana stormed through the city, and our house is almost back to normal, albeit with a few scars, like the people who live in it. The scars are not physical; seared into the brain, they’re souvenirs of the day a river rushed through our house and brought out the strength we never knew we had – and the generosity of people surrounding us.

E-mail the author at biancaconsunji@yahoo.com

Originally published in the Philippine Daily Inquirer, October 3, 2009

While memes are often just passed around through social networking sites, blog posts and e-mail links, they’re often lifted from a website that specializes in memes, such as 4chan.org.

4chan is one of the world’s most popular image boards. It is responsible for spawning content such as “lolcats” (funny images of cats with irreverent and grammatically incorrect captions plastered on them) and “rickrolling” (a bait-and-switch link that leads to a YouTube video of Rick Astley’s “Never Gonna Give You Up” instead of the original content the user was searching for).

Christopher Poole, founder of 4chan, recently spoke at the “Re:Publica ’09: Shift Happens” blogger’s conference held at the Friedrichstadtpalast in Berlin, Germany. The 20-year-old Poole, who founded 4chan over five years ago, was known only by his nickname “moot” until last year.

He was invited to the conference to speak about 4chan in a talk entitled “The Dark Heart of the Internet,” explaining 4chan’s philosophy and its influence on Internet users. The website, which Poole started in October 2003, actually began as a forum where people could share information on anime (Japanese cartoons) and manga (Japanese comics), a topic the teenager from Long Island was deeply interested in.

“Basically, 4chan is an outlet for young, nerdy kids,” Poole said. The website, which receives 400 million page views every month, actually started in his bedroom (Poole bought the bandwidth with his mom’s credit card). Now, it’s undeniably one of the Internet’s biggest influences, and spawns online memes (notably the gags) that make their way to different parts of the globe.

“What makes 4chan so popular is its no-barrier entry policy,” Poole said. “Our emphasis on anonymity invites a wide range of topics from a diverse set of users. We don’t censor anything, so we do get a lot of wild content—but that’s what makes 4chan fun. It’s all artistic works of fiction and falsehood.”

Anything goes

The most popular section of 4chan, the /b/ board, is where anything goes—it’s a notorious board where people could post random items, most of which are nonsensical and humorous. An average of 350,000 posts are uploaded on the 4chan /b/ board. “4chan is a meme factory. It generated hundreds of memes, most notable lolcats, rickrolling and FAIL,” Poole noted. (The “fail” meme is where people plaster the word “fail” in capital letters on funny photos).

“There’s no telling what people will like,” Poole said. “Generally, you must post something remotely funny, repost it ad nauseam, and hope you get lucky.”

However, 4chan’s anonymous posting has led to not-so-funny incidents.
In the US, several threats of violence were posted on the /b/ board, which led to alarmed responses from the online community.

For instance, on September 11, 2007, a student from Pflugerville High School in Pflugerville, Texas posted photos of him holding fake pipe bombs with the threat that they would be remote-detonated in school. He warned that he was armed with a “Bushmaster AR-15, IMI Galil AR, a vintage, government-issue M1 .30 Carbine, and a Benelli M4 semi auto shotgun.”

Last February 4, another post on the /b/ board announced a school shooting in Eskilstuna, Sweden. Authorities evacuated 1,250 students and 50 teachers before arresting a 21-year-old man whose IP address had been provided by 4chan.

Also last February, a person who called himself Timmy posted a video of him physically abusing a cat called Dusty. Again, outraged members of the community tracked down the perpetrator (a 14-year-old kid from Oklahoma) and had him arrested.

“There’s really a lot of stupid stuff on the /b/ board,” Poole admitted. “Most of the content shouldn’t be taken seriously, but when you have an anonymous board, there’s no telling what people will post.”

But for every offensive or dangerous post on 4chan, there are thousands of silly—but funny—posts on the board. An April 2008 poll by SurveyUSA said that at least 18 million Americans had been rickrolled, with even more users around the globe tricked into watching the ’80s music video.

The New York Times likened the site to a “high school bathroom stall, or an obscene telephone party line,” while others have said that “reading /b/ will melt your brain.”

But there’s no denying that the popularity of the board indicates the trend of where humor on the Internet is going—and considering that /b/’s users often refer to themselves as “/b/tards,” that might not be a good thing.

Lolcats, anyone?

E-mail biancaconsunji@yahoo.com

This article originally appeared at the Philippine Daily Inquirer online. The conference was part of the activities held during the Multimedia and Online Journalism course held in Berlin from February to April 2009.