The Rise of Youth Culture
Vegetable portage has provided the young men of Buguias with unprecedented cash incomes. At the same time, the decline of the vegetable industry and the growing scarcity of land have provoked pessimism among many. Enjoying easy money in the present but uncertain about the future, they have developed a distinct youth subculture marked by values variant to those of adult society. According to their parents, the typical bachelors not only lack proper respect for their elders, but are altogether unambitious, embodying the antithesis of the traditionally desired qualities. Many adults find this recently emerged subculture simply appalling. As one elderly man stated, "In the old days we wanted sons, but now we think it is perhaps better to have daughters, since they don't cause as much trouble."
The young men (and women) of Benguet group themselves into informal cliquelike groups (barcadas ), structured primarily by residential groupings and voluntary association. The male barcada presses its members to conform to the bachelor culture and to oppose the ways of the adult world. A few boys chart independent courses while avoiding ostracism, but most remain under the heavy influence of their peer groups.
Boys begin the bachelor's life as soon as they have the strength to carry heavy sacks of vegetables. Many begin to avoid school in the second or third grade to earn portage fees. Even at this age children control their own earnings, often spending them on candy or in gambling. By the higher elementary grades many boys abstain from regular schooling, and by the age of fourteen most are professional vegetable carriers, fully identifying with the bachelor subculture.
The young men usually spend their nights together in the houses of older bachelors. Their work (when they work) is extraordinarily strenuous, but they usually pass many idle hours each day waiting for labor calls, giving rise to their English-derived nickname, "standbys." For supper they usually eat bread and canned foods; few bother to cook the standard fare of rice and vegetables. On lei-
sure days (generally Thursdays and Sundays), they play basketball or volleyball, socialize in the municipality's markets, or scour the riverbed for the rich morsels used to complement San Miguel gin. To a great extent, bachelor culture revolves around drinking; as one young man phrased it, "Every night is a party for us." Not surprisingly, they enthusiastically attend all prestige feasts held in the community, despite the fact that many regard both Pagan and Christian religiosity with cynicism.
If no work is available, young men may be forced to return home temporarily. Most parents readily consent to the return, but familial turmoil not uncommonly follows. American visitors are often asked whether parents in the United States really insist that their sons support themselves once they reach eighteen; as one adult lamented, "We wish we could do this, but it is against our ugali [culture]—no matter how old our children are, we must care for them if they are in need."
The bachelors' worst sin, in the eyes of their parents, is their bellicosity. In normal circumstances most youngsters are irenic and bashful; young men often say that when sober they are too timid even to speak with their elders. But when intoxicated they not uncommonly fight among themselves. Most quarrels stem from geographically based rivalries or family feuds, but on at least one occasion an inebriated youth punched a barangay official who had restrained him, an unthinkable breach of social order. In response, the barangay council attempted to restrict the sale of alcohol at night, but this proved unenforceable.
The apolitical rebellion of the young is not entirely explicable in economic terms. Although many boys may join a subculture that offers a prosperous if brutal present because they face a possibly dismal future, the sons of the truly elite, young men whose careers are secured by doting parents, are not uncommonly the most obstreperous of the bachelors. Furthermore, the current economy is not so weak that any youngster could not build a base for future prosperity by accumulating rather than squandering his earnings. This is, of course, what the elders claim they would have done in the same position.
Many young men do begin to cultivate gardens before they marry, but most have access only to marginal sites. But even the most ambitious are hard pressed; if they do manage to obtain a de-
cent plot they must also convince a wealthier farmer or trader that they are mature enough to be trusted in a "supply" relationship. Since few save any of their earnings, self-financing is not possible. Often their only gardening opportunity is to clear new land in the village's remote upper reaches, entailing much labor and few initial returns. Vegetable portage thus continues to lure, for its rewards are both abundant and immediate.
With marriage, the bachelor lifestyle is no longer tenable, and full-time gardening becomes both possible and attractive. Marriage often brings inherited property (from either side) and thus a chance for decent profits without the arduous task of land clearing. Furthermore, most young women are considered more responsible than their male peers, and wives often coax their husbands toward stability. Finally, the wedding itself usually saddles a young couple with considerable debt, which in itself is said to instill a sense of duty. After marriage, most men begin to heed their elders.
Youngsters eventually abandon the bachelor lifestyle, but some parents find the phase so destructive that they try to shield their sons from it altogether. This is best done by moving to another village where the generational split is less pronounced. The bachelor counterculture is strongest in Buguias, owing mainly to the community's agrosocial environment; vegetable portage, the subculture's economic underpinning, has developed significantly only where small, independent farms are poorly served by roads and where communal work-exchange groups have atrophied. According to some, the cloud forest provides the best refuge; here teenagers are said to be naive, and traditional values persist. Several Buguias couples have accordingly moved up-slope, in part to protect their children from peer groups. Others have sent their sons to distant schools, and a group of Buguias students attend secondary school in Tinoc for this reason.