IT'S XIAOTIME!

By XIAO CHUA

First published by GMA News, November 1, 2015 10:20am

Dahil panahon na naman ng Todos Los Santos at pupunta na naman tayo sa sementeryo upang alalahanin ang ating mga mahal sa buhay, balikan natin ang mga tradisyon ng ating mga ninuno na may kinalaman sa mga yumao. 

Dahil sa impluwensyang Katoliko ng mga Espanyol, naitali sa Todos Los Santos o All Saints’ Day ang paggalang natin sa mahal nating mga kaanak na yumao at tila ang ating mga namatay na ninuno ay itinuturing na rin natin na mga santo na nasa langit kasama ng Panginoon.  

Ang doktrina ng Santa Iglesia Catolica Romana ay nagsasabi na ang namatay na mahal sa buhay ay ipinapanalangin upang mahango sa purgatoryo, mapunta sa langit o magabayan ang kanilang mga kaluluwa sa kabilang buhay.  

Panahon ng Sinaunang Bayan

Ngunit hindi ba kayo nagtataka, kapag undas ay hindi lamang natin ipinapanalangin ang mga patay, nagdadasal tayo mismo sa kamag-anak natin at kinakausap natin sila?  Ito ay pagpapatuloy ng sinaunang kulturang Pilipino na mas matanda pa sa Katolisismo sa Pilipinas.  

Pagdating ng panahon, kapag tayong lahat ay wala na dito sa mundong ibabaw, libu-libong taon ang lilipas, ang mga tao sa hinaharap ay mahuhukay ang ating mga libingan.  At sa mga libingan na ito makikita nila kung paano tayo mamuhay.  Tulad ng ginagawa ng ating mga arkeyologo ngayon, hinuhukay nila ang mga libingan ng ating mga ninuno at nagkakaroon sila ng ideya sa kung ano ba ang pamumuhay ng mga tao noon batay sa anyo ng paglilibing at sa mga gamit na isinasama sa mga bangkay.  

Noong unang panahon ng mga ninuno nating Austronesians, naglilibing ang mga Pilipino sa mga banga.  Iba-iba ang klase nito.  May isang natagpuan na hugis itlog na banga na inilibing sa lupa.  Makikita na sa bangang ito, buong tao ang inililibing.  Ang tawag dito ay Primary Burial Jar.  Sa ibabaw ng libingan ay may mga bato na ihinugis sa bangka.  Salamin ito ng halaga sa ating mga ninuno mula Luzon hanggang Mindanao ng kultura sa paglalayag o Maritime Culture ng mga Pilipino, at naniniwala silang sa pamamagitan ng katubigan at bangka dinadala ang mga kaluluwa sa kabilang buhay.  

Sa mga kapatid nating Badjao sa Sulu, ang kanilang mga pananda sa mga libingan na tinatawag na sunduk ay disenyo ng bangka na may nakatayong tao.  

Tila kahalintulad din ito ng pinakamahalagang libingang banga sa Pilipinas na natagpuan sa Kuweba ng Manunggul sa Palawan, ang Manunggul Jar na ang edad ay tinataya nilikha noong 710 B.C.  Ang disenyo ng takip ay tila mga alon sa dagat at sa ibabaw nito, dalawang kaluluwa na nakasakay sa isang Bangka-kaluluwa na may mukha.  Mga buto na lamang ang inilalagay dito kaya maituturing ito na Secondary Burial Jar.  Noong 1991, daang-daang secondary burial jars ang natagpuan sa Ayub Cave sa Maitum, Saranggani.  Ang mga takip ay pinaniniwalaang representasyon ng nakalibing, disenyo ng iba’t ibang mukha.  

Tulad nang makikita sa bangang panlibing na Manunggul, naniwala ang mga ninuno natin na ang ating mga kaluluwa kapag tayo ay namatay ay naglalakbay at dumadaan sa mga ilog at dagat patungo sa kabilang buhay bilang salamin ng ating maritime culture.  Sa Batanes, may mga natagpuang mga libingan sa lupa ngunit ang kanilang mga pananda ay mga batong hugis Bangka, at sa Cordillera na kahit bulubundukin, ang mga kabaong kung saan sila naglilibing sa mga kweba ay hugis bangka rin!  

Ang mga kaluluwa ng mga namatay ay itinuturing na anito na nagbabalik sa kalikasan, sa mga ilog, sa mga bundok, sa mga bato at sa mga punongkahoy.  Sila ay kinakatawan ng mga estatuwa at inaalayan at dinadasalan natin ang mga ninuno natin na ito.  At pinaniniwalaan na nakikipag-usap pa ang mga anito sa atin noon sa pamamagitan ng mga babaylan at catalonan.  

Kaya hanggang sa ngayon ipinagpapatuloy natin ang pakikipag-usap sa mga namayapa.

Pinag-aralan naman ni Dr. Grace Barretto-Tesoro sa kanyang disertasyon sa Cambridge ang mga libingan ng mga ninuno natin sa Calatagan, Batangas kung saan natagpuan ang mga ninuno natin na nakalibing kasama ang mga shells na Tridacna gigas, ang iba ay may mga ginto at alahas, at ang iba may mga ibang bungo na nakalibing.  Ang bangkay na ito ay pinaniniwalaan na sa isang Catalonan, ang babaylan o espituwal na pinuno sa Luzon.  

Bayan sa Panahon ng Kolonyalismo

Ang pista ng patay sa Pilipinas ay tinatawag nating “Undas.”  Nang tanungin ko si Dr. Lars Raymund Ubaldo, ang salitang “Undas” ay nagmula sa Espanyol na “honras funebres” o funeral honors na sa ibang lalawigang Tagalog ay naging “honras” at “undras,” at sa Ilocos ay “atang” na tinatawag ding “umras.”

Pinag-aralan ni Dr. Ubaldo ang kaugalian sa Ilocos ng pagtagis sa burol na ang inaawit ay ang buhay ng namatay.  Tawag dito sa tagulaylay na ito ay dung-aw.  Tila pagpapatuloy ito ng sinaunang pag-awit ng epiko ng mga ninuno natin.

Noong unang mga taon ng ika-20 siglo, ayon sa Kapampangang si Alex R. Castro, ang pagpapalibing ay P 30.00 na samantalang ang mananahi ay sumasahod ng P5.00 lamang kada buwan.  

Kung ikaw ay Katoliko, nararapat ka lamang ilibing sa Sementeryong Katoliko.  Ang mga ito ay itinuturing din na banal na lugar kaya tinawag itong Campo Santo—banal ang mga inililibing dito.  Kadalasan sa mga sementeryo na ito ay mayroon isang ermita, o isang maliit na simbahan tulad ng nabisita ko sa Paniqui, Tarlac; Vigan, Ilocos Sur; at sa San Joaquin, Iloilo.  Isa sa pinakasikat na Sementeryong Katoliko sa bansa ay ang Sementeryo ng Nagcarlan. Dahil ito ay nasa mataas na lugar, tila mayroon itong basement kaya tinawag itong Underground Cemetery.  Sa mga tagong lugar na ito lihim na nagpulong ang Katipunan sa Laguna noong Himagsikang 1896.  Ang mga hindi Katoliko ay inililibing sa Sementeryo halimbawa ng mga Tsino.  

Ang mga tao rin noon ay kumukuha ng Recuerdos de Patay o “Souvenirs of the Dead,” tulad ng obra na ito ni Simon Flores ng isang patay na bata na ipinagpatuloy naman sa pagpapalitrato kasama ang patay.  Kung minsan itinatayo pa ang kabaong para makita ang patay sa loob.  

Ayon kay Ambeth R. Ocampo, ang peryodikong Renacimineto Filipino ay napakahilig na ilabas ang litrato ng kamatayan ng mga bayani.  Ito si Miguel Malvar matapos malagutan ng hininga noong 1911, full coverage ang kanyang libing.  Nilathala din ang larawan ng ina ni Rizal “en enfermedad” o sa kanyang pagkaksakit, at “el cadaver” bilang isang bangkay!  

Ang Kahulugan ng D.O.M. sa mga Puntod

Sa mga semeteryo, makikita rin sa disenyo ng mga puntod ang kalagayan ng tao.  Isang obra ni Guillermo Tolentino ay nakalagay dati sa isang puntod ng isang mayaman sa Bulacan na ngayon ay nasa Pambansang Tipunan ng Sining sa Pambansang Museo ay isang malaking rebulto ng anghel na katulad ng anghel sa taas ng Monumento ni Bonifacio sa Caloocan, ngunit ito ay tila nakabuka ang palad na nagsusumamo sa Diyos na tanggapin ang kaluluwa ng yumao.  

Nagsimula tayong maglibing sa mga kabaong na may mga panandang krus o mga lapida noong panahon ng mga Espanyol.  Kung maykaya ka, maaari kang mailibing sa loob ng Simbahan tulad nitong mga pamilyang Roxas, Zobel at Ayala na mayroong sariling kapilya sa Simbahan ng San Agustin sa Intramuros.  

Sa pagtingin sa mga lumang simbahan sa Pilipinas makikita mo ang mga nakasulat sa lapida tulad ng  “Recuerdo de la Familia”—katumbas ngayon ng nakalagay na “Family Remembrance.”  Liban sa R.I.P. (Hindi pa Ingles noon na Rest in Peace kundi Latin na “Requiescat in pace”) at D.E.P. para sa Espanyol na “Descansar en Paz,” mayroon ding D.O.M.  Akala ng iba, Dirty Old Man ito, pero nagmula pa pala ito sa mga paganong Romano na nagsasabi na Deo, Optimo Maximo, “To the Greatest and Best God,” pinauubaya na ang mahal sa buhay sa kandungan ng makapangyarihang Diyos.  Kung mahirap ka sa Katagalugan, hindi Latin o Spanish ang mga letra na nakalagay sa lapida mo kung hindi S.L.N.—hindi yan “Sa Lagnat Namatay” ha kundi “Suma Langit Nawa.”  

Ang mga libingan ay hindi lamang himlayan o lugar na katatakutan, ito ay isang mayaman na batis ng ating kasaysayan.  

Ang Halloween at ang Pagpasok ng Komersyalismo sa Undas 

Tulad ng maraming aspekto ng kultura, ang Undas ay ginawang negosyo sa pagdating ng impluwensyang Amerikano sa Pilipinas sa pagpapakilala nila ng konsepto ng Halloween.

Ipinagdiriwang sa daigdig ang Halloween tuwing October 31.  Ang salitang ito ay nagmula salitang “All Hallow’s Evening,” ang kahulugan ng “hallow” ay saint dahil gabing bisperas nga ito ng All Saints’ Day.  

Kasabay nito ang bisperas ng pista ng mga patay na ipinagdiriwang pa ng mga sinaunang Celtic bilang “Samhain” kung kalian pinaniniwalaan nilang bumabalik sa mga tahanan nila ang kaluluwa ng mga ninuno nila.  Ginugunita nila ito sa pamamagitan ng “trick or treat,” kumbaga, kung may kakatok sa iyo at hindi mo bigyan ng kahit ano ay maaari ka nilang lokohin ng mga pranks.  Upang kumatawan sa mga kaluluwa na maaari kang saktan o patayin kung maging maramot ka, nagsusuot ng kung anu-nong nakatatakot na costume ang mga bata.  

Gayundin, gumagawa ng mga inukitang kalabasa o pumpkin ang mga Kanluranin upang pantaboy sa mga masasamang demonyo na naglipana sa tuwing Holloween.  1866 unang nabanggit ang koneksyon ng Holloween at pumpkin sa Amerika.  Mapapansin din na sa kwentong bayan sa Kanluran, ang mga mangkukulam ay may nakaugalian na gawing mga pumpkin ang mga tao.  Dahil sa komersyalisasyon at globalisasyon, umabot ang mga Kanluraning praktis na ito sa Pilipinas.  Kung anu-anong kasuotan at mga dekorasyon ang nabibili ukol dito at kung anu-anong party at reunion ang nagaganap sa panahong ito.  Ang dung-aw ay napalitaan na ng videoke.  Tila nagsanib ang komeryalismo ng kanluran at ang pagiging masaya at pagbubuklod ng mga Pilipino na makikita kahit sa mga lamay.

Ngunit sa kabila nito, sana hindi natin malimutan ang dahilan ng undas, ang pag-alala sa ating mahal sa buhay, na panatilihin sila sa ating puso kahit sila ay wala na.  

Mabalik tayo sa undas.  Ang lumang terminong Kapampangan sa pag-aalay ng mga bulaklak sa mga patay ay “Daun.”  Parang binaligtad lang na Unda.  

Muli, ngayon alam niyo na ang UNDAS ay nagmula sa Honras Funebres, hindi sa binaligtad na “SADNU?”  Dahil hindi naman sad ang pista ng patay sa Pilipinas, hindi ba HAPPYNU ito?  

Happy Undas!  

_______________________________________________________________________________

Si Prop. Michael Charleston “Xiao” Briones Chua ay kasalukuyang assistant professorial lecturer ng Pamantasang De La Salle Maynila.    Isa siyang historyador at naging consultant ng GMA News TV series na Katipunan at Ilustrado.    Ang sanaysay na ito ay batay sa kanyang news segment sa “Xiao Time:    Ako ay Pilipino” sa istasyong pantelebisyon ng pamahalaan.  

By XIAO CHUA

First published in GMA News, December 29, 2016 7:05pm

There seems to be no end to the debate whether Rizal retracted his writings against the Catholic Church on the very last day of his life. Will a new independent testimony settle the debate finally?

Ayon sa ilan, si Jose Rizal, na pinaslang ng mga kolonyalistang Espanyol 120 years ago, December 30, 1896, ay naging bayani dahil sa kanyang mga sinulat upang wasakin ang ideya ng kolonyalismo at palayain ang isip natin upang mabuo ang bansa—ang Noli Me Tangere at El Filibusterismo at ang kanyang mga sanaysay sa La Solidaridad, na kumuwestiyon sa mga paniniwalang nakabubulag sa atin, lalo na ang pagsunod sa kagustuhan ng mga prayle bilang sugo ng Diyos.

Ngunit, ilang oras bago siya barilin, pinirmahan daw ni Rizal ang isang dokumento na nagsasabing siya raw ay isang Katoliko at binabawi niya lahat ng kanyang mga sinulat laban sa simbahan. Nakilala ang dokumento bilang ang retraktasyon, “The Retraction.” Dahil sa kanyang pagbabalik-loob sa simbahan, ikinasal sila ni Josephine Bracken, ang kanyang huling pag-ibig.

Ang sinasabing retraktasyon ni Rizal. Courtesy Ambeth R. Ocampo

Salin ng dokumento ng retraktasyon

Ayon sa ilan, mas lalong naging dakila si Rizal sa pagkilala ng kanyang mga kamalian laban sa pananampalataya. Ngunit para naman sa marami, hindi kapanipaniwala na sa huling sandali ng kanyang buhay, babawiin niya ang kanyang mga sinulat, ang dahilan ng kanya mismong pagkabayani. Para na rin niyang itinapon ang kanyang kabayanihan.

• Ang testimonya ni Padre Vicente Balaguer

Kahit natagpuan ang sinasabing dokumento ng retraktasyon noong 1935, patuloy ang pagdududa. Lalo na sa itinuturing na natatanging eyewitness account ng pangyayari—ang isinulat ng Heswitang si Padre Vicente Balaguer. Paano naman kasi, ang resonableng si Rizal ay bigla na lamang nagising ng makailang beses, apat na beses na nangumpisal, nagpamisa, nangomunyon at nagrosaryo pa. Kakatwa para sa ilan, kabilang na ako.

Isa ako sa mga historyador na hindi naniniwala sa retraktasyon. At para sa akin, hindi na matatapos ang “Retraction Controversy.”

Isa lamang ang maaaring magresolba nito, sabi ko—kung magkakaroon ng isa pang eyewitness account ng gabi at umagang iyon na maaaring magpatunay o magpasinungaling sa retraktasyon o sa testimonya ni Padre Balaguer.

• Ang testimonya ng Cuerpo de Vigilancia

Nitong 4 August 2016, binasa ni Commissioner Rene R. Escalante, ang OIC ng National Historical Commission of the Philippines, ang isang “Professorial Chair Lecture sa Rizal Studies” na pinamagatang “Re-examining the Last 24 Hours of Rizal Using Spy Reports” sa De La Salle University.

Sa mga dokumento ng mga espiyang Espanyol na tinatawag na Cuerpo de Vigilancia, matatagpuan ang ulat na isinulat sa araw ng kamatayan ni Rizal ni Federico Moreno, na nagkukuwento ng pahayag sa kanya ng isang ahente ng Cuerpo de Vigilancia, isang bantay sa selda ng Rizal, samakatuwid, isang “additional independent eyewitness account.”

Ang unang pahina ng ulat ni Federico Moreno (Cuerpo de Vigilancia). Courtesy National Commission for Culture and the Arts

Ayon sa pahayag, sumulat si Rizal ng isang papel na narinig niyang ang retraktasyon. Binanggit rin ang dalawang paring Heswita na pumasok sa piitan ni Rizal—si Padre Jose Vilaclara at Padre Estanislao March, at dalawa pang tao, sina Juan del Fresno at Eloy Moure. Narito ang ilang bahagi ng sanaysay na isinalin na sa Ingles mula sa wikang Espanyol:

“Most Illustrious Sir, the agent of the Cuerpo de Vigilancia stationed in Fort Santiago to report on the events during the [illegible] day in prison of the accused Jose Rizal, informs me on this date of the following:

“At 7:50 yesterday morning, Jose Rizal entered death row accompanied by his counsel, Señor Taviel de Andrade, and the Jesuit priest Vilaclara. At the urgings of the former and moments after entering, he was served a light breakfast. At approximately 9, the Assistant of the Plaza, Señor Maure, asked Rizal if he wanted anything. He replied that at the moment he only wanted a prayer book which was brought to him shortly by Father March.

“Señor Andrade left death row at 10 and Rizal spoke for a long while with the Jesuit fathers, March and Vilaclara, regarding religious matters, it seems. It appears that these two presented him with a prepared retraction on his life and deeds that he refused to sign. They argued about the matter until 12:30 when Rizal ate some poached egg and a little chicken. Afterwards he asked to leave to write and wrote for a long time by himself.

“At 3 in the afternoon, Father March entered the chapel and Rizal handed him what he had written. Immediately the chief of the firing squad, Señor del Fresno and the Assistant of the Plaza, Señor Maure, were informed. They entered death row and together with Rizal signed the document that the accused had written. It seems this was the retraction.”

Makikita na ang dalawang binanggit na opisyal, sina Juan del Fresno at Eloy Moure, ay ang mga nakapirma mismo sa dokumento ng retraktasyon na tumayong mga saksi. Gayundin binanggit ng guwardiya na bago dalhin sa Luneta si Rizal, ikinasal siya kay Josephine Bracken:

“At 5 this morning of the 30th, the lover of Rizal arrived at the prison …dressed in mourning. Only the former entered the chapel, followed by a military chaplain whose name I cannot ascertain. Donning his formal clothes and aided by a soldier of the artillery, the nuptials of Rizal and the woman who had been his lover were performed at the point of death (in articulo mortis). After embracing him she left, flooded with tears.”

At ang nakagugulat, itinala ni Moreno, ang lahat ng taong pumasok sa selda noong gabing iyon, ni minsan, walang binanggit na may pumasok na Padre Balaguer. Ibig sabihin wala si Padre Balaguer doon, maaaring secondary source na lamang siya at kinapanayam lamang sina Padre Vilaclara at Padre March upang buuin ang kanyang testimonya.

Mayroon akong malaking paniniwala na walang dahilan para magsinungaling ang guwardiya o si Moreno lalo na at ginawa nila ang tala sa mismong panahon na iyon.

• Ang sinulat ni Rizal sa kopya ng “Imitations of Christ”

Kamakailan, isang kopya ng “De La Imitacion de Cristo” na isinulat ni Thomas á Kempis ang ipinaubaya sa Direktor ng Pambansang Museo ng Pilipinas, Jeremy Barns. Ito ang mismong kopya na ibinigay ni Rizal kay Josephine Bracken sa kanyang huling pagbisita dito sa araw ng kanyang kamatayan. Isinulat niya dito, “To my dear and unhappy wife, Josephine, December 30th, 1896, Jose Rizal.”

Kopya ng ‘De La Imitacion de Cristo.’ Courtesy Jeremy Barns

Kopya ng ‘De La Imitacion de Cristo’ na may sulat ni Rizal. Courtesy Jeremy Barns

Liban sa tinawag niyang “wife” o asawa dito si Josephine, na maaaring magpatungkol sa pagiging legal ng kanilang kasal, ang mismong aklat na ibinigay niya sa huling babaeng kanyang minahal ay isang aklat ukol sa paggaya sa landas ni Kristo. Namatay siyang Kristiyano.

• Ang paglalagay ng “krus” sa kanyang mga huling sulatin

Ang krus ang unibersal na simbolong Kristiyano. Pinaalala sa akin ni Prop. Wensley Reyes ng Philippine Normal University na sa dalawang sulatin ni Rizal bago mamatay binanggit niya ang simbolong ito.

Sa kanyang huling bilin sa pamilya na hindi na nila natanggap hanggang noong 1953 (ang sulat ay naging bahagi ng donasyon ng Spanish Foreign Minister Alberto Martinez Artajo y Alvarez sa pamahalaang Pilipinas):

“Ilibing niyo ako sa lupa. Lagyan ninyo ng panandang bato at KRUS. Ang aking pangalan, araw ng kapanganakan at ng kamatayan. Wala nang iba. Kung pagkatapos ay nais niyong bakuran ang aking puntod, maaari niyong gawin. Wala nang anibersaryo. Mas mabuti kung sa Paang Bundok. Kaawaan ninyo si Josephine.”

Sa kanyang huling tula, binaggit din ni Rizal ang panandang krus sa kanyang libingan ng dalawang beses.

“Suffer the moon to keep watch, tranquil and suave, over me:
Suffer the dawn its flying lights to release:
Suffer the wind to lament in murmurous and grave manner:
And should a bird drift down and alight on my CROSS,
Suffer the bird to intone its canticle of peace.

“…And when my grave is wholly unremembered
And unlocated (no CROSS upon it, no stone there plain):
Let the site be wracked by the plow and cracked by the spade
And let my ashes, before they vanish to nothing,
As dust be formed a part of your carpet again.”

Kung titingnan ito, si Rizal ay nais na mabigyan ng isang Kristiyanong libing, samatuwid, namatay na isang Kristiyanong Katoliko.

Kaya naman sa liwanag na dala ng mga bagong labas na mga dokumento at mga bagong interpretasyon, maaari ngang si Jose Rizal ay nag-retract. Maaari ngang totoo ang retraktasyon. May dahilan kung bakit niya isinulat ang dokumento.

Ngunit mahalaga pa ba talaga kung totoo ito? Mababago ba ang paninindigan at nagawa ng isang tao sa kanyang buong buhay ng pagtindig at katapangan ng isang papel na pinirmahan niya sa araw ng kanyang kamatayan? Hindi. Hindi. — BM, GMA News

Si Prop. Michael Charleston “Xiao” Briones Chua ay kasalukuyang assistant professorial lecturer ng Pamantasang De La Salle Maynila. Isa siyang historyador at naging consultant ng GMA News TV series na Katipunan at Ilustrado. Ang sanaysay na ito ay batay sa kanyang news segment sa “Xiao Time: Ako ay Pilipino” sa istasyong pantelebisyon ng pamahalaan.

The Manila Times, Walking History Column

March 17, 2018

MICHAEL “XIAO” CHUA

WHEN I was young, I found my mother’s old copy of a book entitled The Social Cancer. When I opened it, I was surprised that it was actually an English translation of José Rizal’s Noli Me Tangere by Charles Derbyshire, published in 1912. It used to be a very popular translation until perhaps the more modern rendering by María Soledad Lacson-Locsin published by Bookmark in the year of the centenary of Rizal’s martyrdom, 1996.

I often wondered why Derbyshire translated the title that way rather than using the actual Latin name of the novel which meant “Touch Me Not.” Noli Me Tangere, in ecclesiastical Latin, should be pronounced as “noli me tan-je-re.”

Rizal actually explained himself where he got the title in a letter to Félix Resurrección Hidalgo dated March 1887:

“Noli me tángere, words taken from the Gospel of St. Luke, means: do not touch me at all. The book therefore contains things that no one in our land has ever until the present time spoken of because they are so delicate that they did not consent at all to being touched by anyone. I myself have tried to do what no one has wanted to. I felt obliged to answer the calumnies that have been heaped over us and our country for centuries: I’ve described our social situation, our lives, our beliefs, our hopes, our desires, our grievances, our sorrows.”

As Ambeth Ocampo said, it doesn’t mean Rizal was always right. Everyone makes mistakes. The quote is actually from John 20:17.

And given Rizal’s explanation, it still not easy to connect the dots and make sense of it all. What was Rizal referring to that should not be touched? Until one reads Rizal dedication, which is often neglected when one discusses the novel. This dedication is most important because it clearly identifies to the readers—namely “A mi Patria,” “To my Mother Country” (ironically, the novel is written in Spanish, a language not understood by many of his countrymen in the Philippines. Was he talking about Mother Spain? His actual target audience were the Spaniards whom he was pleading to reform Filipinas, but maybe he was really thinking of the Filipino People)—that the “delicate things,” “calumnies,” were the CANCER of society. That is what Derbyshire was referring to in the title of his translation:

“Recorded in the history of human suffering are cancers of such malignant character that even minor contact aggravates them, engendering overwhelming pain…. Therefore, because I desire your good health… I will do with you what the ancients did with their infirmed: they placed them on the steps of their temples so that each in his own way could invoke a divinity that might offer a cure.” (Translated by Harold Augenbraum)

A few years back, someone told me that the phrase “Noli Me Tangere” itself is actually a name of a kind of cancer which when treated, will only get worse. When I said this to a bunch of arrogant Spanish tourists while I was touring them at the Rizal Shrine in Fort Santiago, one of the ladies said she was a cancer doctor and that there was no such thing.

Then I searched some old medical books and found that “Noli Me Tangere” is indeed a skin cancer called lupus erythematosus (The Medical Examiner, Volume 3, p. 86;The Medical Museum Or A Repository of Cases, Experiments, Researches and Discoveries, p. 491;A practical treatise on the diseases of the eyelids, p. 137.)

So, there you go, the English title “The Social Cancer” is actually clearer than “Touch Me Not.” Because Rizal, the medical student, knew that the ills he exposed on the steps of the temple that he wanted to cure would just explode. Rizal hoped that when it did, Spain would finally listen and offer reforms. But the opposite happened. Once the cancer was exposed, revolution was inevitable.

One thing is for sure, in writing about the social cancer, Rizal emphasized the common misfortunes of people in the archipelago. It was not only, as Penguin Classics cited, the first major artistic manifestation of Asian resistance against European colonialism. According to Setsuho Ikehata, and even Benedict Anderson, this helped Indios to realize they had a common misfortune. They may not have read the novel themselves, but those who did told others about Padre Salvi, Padre Damaso, Doña Victorina, Sisa, and others, gossiped about it and thought Rizal was such a great and brave guy writing about these.

With the Noli Me Tangere, Rizal helped to create us as a nation, and that we should all have the courage to stand for it.

Some people say that Rizal is obsolete. How I wish. But have we really recovered from the social cancer that Rizal was writing about more than a hundred years ago?

The Manila Times, Walking History Column
April 28, 2018
MICHAEL “XIAO” CHUA

JOSÉ Rizal wrote the Noli Me Tangere for the benefit of the indios. But it was not meant for indios to read. The mere fact that he wrote it in the Spanish language and not Tagalog tells us that he had a different audience in mind: The Spaniards and their government, so that they could grant the necessary reforms to the indios, which included representation, the granting of equal rights and the distinction of being a province.

But if Rizal was exposing the ills of Spanish colonialism in the Noli Me Tangere, then why did he want Filipinos to actually become part of Spain?

The German political scientist Manuel Sarkisyanz, the author of Rizal and Republican Spain, said that there were actually two Spains during Rizal’s time. The Spain in the Philippines, ruled by frailocracy and backwardness, and the real Spain which was ruled by republicanism and liberalism. Rizal and his contemporaries in the Propaganda Movement, who lived in Europe, apparently liked and fell in love with the idea of bringing liberal Spain to the Philippines.

According to early Rizal biographer, the American Austin Craig: “Early in his stay in Madrid, Rizal had come across a secondhand copy, in two volumes, of a French novel, which he bought to improve his knowledge of that language. It was Eugene Sue’s The Wandering Jew, that work which transformed the France of the 19th century. The book, he writes in his diary, “affected him powerfully, not to tears, but with a tremendous sympathy for the unfortunates that made him willing to risk everything in their behalf. It seemed to him that such a presentation of Philippine conditions would certainly arouse Spain, but his modesty forbade his saying that he was going to write a book like the French masterpiece.”

Some write-ups point to Harriet Beecher Stowe’s novel Uncle Tom’s Cabin—which exposed the inhumanity of slavery and which was credited with having fueled the American Civil War—as Rizal’s inspiration for the Noli Me Tangere. It was more likely the Wandering Jew, which Andres Bonifacio had also reportedly read.

Some argue that what the propagandists tried to achieve with satire is how the so-called “fake news” works today for propaganda purposes. Although I should stress that the Noli was presented as a representation of truth and not the truth, whereas disinformation is presented as reality and news. It was fictionalized history. He heard real stories and put them together in characters, caricaturing them for effect. Padre Salvi and Padre Damaso, for example, reflected the arrogance, cruelty and backwardness of the colonial system.

But some have suggested that in his portrayal of women, Rizal was a misogynist. All his women characters were undesirable: Doña Consolacion was cruel, Doña Victorina epitomized colonial mentality, Sisa was too weak she became mad, and what people think as the symbol of the Philippines and the Filipino woman, Maria Clara, was actually a weak and treacherous woman, who did not fight for her love and gave away to Padre Salvi her lover Crisostomo Ibarra’s letters to her, which were used to implicate him in a revolt. Incidentally, the only strong woman in the Noli, Elias’ lover Salome, was taken out of the novel for the sake of cost-cutting.

But this is an unfair assessment of Rizal. Could it be that even if Rizal was not writing for Filipinos per se, he was not just exposing the ills of colonialism but also giving a necessary wake-up call for Filipinos to change their bad attitude. According to Austin Craig, “…the book had now become less an effort to arouse the Spanish sense of justice than a means of education for Filipinos by pointing out their shortcomings. …misgovernment may be due quite as much to the hypocrisy, servility and undeserving character of the people as it is to the corruption, tyranny and cruelty of the rulers.”

According to Gen. José Alejandrino, in his memoir The Price of Freedom, Rizal told him that he regretted killing Elias in his novel. Ibarra, who continued on to become Simoun in the second novel, eventually failed in his plans to overthrow the Spaniards because he was “an egoist who only decided to provoke the rebellion when he was hurt in his interests, his person, his loves and all other things he held sacred.” According to Rizal, Elias should have led the revolution because he was a “noble character, patriotic, self-denying and disinterested— necessary qualities of a man who leads a revolution.”

So Noli Me Tangere was less a condemnation of our colonial masters than a warning to us Filipinos. It is also about our faults and weaknesses. We read it not just for history, but read it with the fresh eyes of the present. For Rizal once noted, “The slaves of today will be the tyrants of tomorrow.” We should ask, how much of the social cancer still exists in our very soul today?

By Michael Charleston “Xiao” Chua

February 27, 2021 and March 6, 2021

Part 1:

I WAS recently reading The Kennedy Half Century, where Larry J. Sabato not only provided fresh details about President John F. Kennedy’s life and death but also convincingly demonstrated how subsequent White House occupants were influenced by his decisions and rhetoric. It was not a general statement that Kennedy was the end-all and be-all of history, nor discrediting the fact that the people are the true makers of history; but just like how some historians call 1974-2008 as The Reagan Era, it was just a recognition that a personality in history looms large and had impacted many aspects of that era.

And so, I was thinking who could be the personality that loomed large in the past 50 years in the political, economic and cultural life of the nation. I only have one man in mind and that is Ferdinand E. Marcos.

In a forum titled “Ferdinand Marcos” organized by Sociedad de Historia on Oct. 14, 2016, at the height of the issue of the Marcos burial, I had a candid discussion with The Manila Times columnist Van Ybiernas. Despite having seemingly different points of view, we had one conclusion, which he worded beautifully: “Ferdinand Marcos is the continuously running train that everyone wanted to ride on.”

I guess he deemed it so. Of all the presidents of the Philippines, Ferdinand Marcos was the most conscious of history, having been a history buff himself. Sixteen years before he was elected president in 1965, he asked his constituents in Ilocos Norte, “Elect me a congressman now, and I pledge you an Ilocano president in 20 years.” Having been elected at a relatively young age of 48 at a time when many neighboring countries had strongmen at the helm, he vowed in his inaugural address, “This nation can be great again” (not exactly “I will make this nation great again,” which others recalled although that was implied). He did not want to be just another inconsequential president.

Much has been written about those 20 years of his rule so we will not dwell on that. But let us examine how Marcos affected the past 50 years. By prolonging his rule, he affected deeply our institutions for better and for worse that even People Power failed to erase. The administration sure made great strides in infrastructure, network of roads and electrification that were desperately needed by a young nation. Many of the train lines being built and will be built in the metro were already planned by them. Their example of technocratic planning, getting the best minds to work for them, is still an indicator of good governance. Their support for projects on history, heritage and identity building is commendable in comparison to others having none. The Metropolitan Manila Commission headed by Imelda Marcos had a more efficient system than the present Metropolitan Manila Development Authority.

But lawyer Chel Diokno reminded us that with the proclamation of martial law, judges were asked to submit courtesy resignations that were just kept until one makes an unfavorable decision, in which case the resignation would be accepted. This made the justices beholden to the administration. No doubt, many people in the justice system are honorable, but we sure all admit that the “padrino” system is still in place. Cronyism, a term coined during the Marcos regime, a term for favored business friends, continued — problems that, in all fairness to the Marcoses, were already there, but which the regime institutionalized by the mere fact of its longevity. Add the long-term effects to the nation of their foreign debt, and the plunder by their family and cronies that was unaccounted for despite legal attempts to do so, which emboldened all the others to do the same.

Despite seeing the value of the spirit of EDSA People Power Revolution, I have to admit that without Marcos to oust there would have been no EDSA. And just like veterans passionately reminding people how they fought the war against the Japanese, some personalities made being part of People Power or being part of the struggle against the dictatorship a badge and used it for political advantage. Thus, the spirit of EDSA, instead of being a historical event, became open to desecration by their opponents. Even the Marcos family cannot escape it. Bongbong Marcos wanted to run on his own merits with “Hindi ako ang aking nakaraan, ako ang ating bukas,” but he had to eventually embrace and defend his father’s achievements because everywhere he went, he was hounded by the ghost of the atrocities of the Marcos regime.

The excesses of the regime wiped out the young idealists of an era who should have been our leaders today. Many of those that remained were either corrupted or traumatized. One feels sorry that they must relive their trauma again for fear that history is being revised and gets trolled in the process. Theirs is an unending suffering.

To be concluded next week, March 6

Part 2:

LAST week, I posited the argument that the past 50 years or so is what you can call “the Marcos half-century,” since Ferdinand Marcos loomed large in the political, economic and cultural life of our nation, a shadow we thought we had escaped but is a ghost that continues to haunt us.

Ninoy Aquino would have been the other consequential leader of the half-century. I remember the great journalist Teodoro Benigno once said Marcos and Ninoy were “the two leaders who knew the Filipino heart and the Filipino soul very, very well.” But before Ninoy could carve his own niche, he became the sacrificial martyr of the Marcos regime in 1983. His funeral, bigger than that of the Father of India, Mahatma Gandhi, turned him into a national hero by public acclamation.

His brave act inspired many, including the middle class, to fight for the restoration of democracy, which eventually led to the peaceful EDSA revolt of 1986. For me, the real People Power Revolution was the long and bloody struggle in which the EDSA revolt was only the climax. As comrades in the Left always say, it was no picnic. But even so, the peaceful four-day revolt where we showed the world on satellite TV our “pakikipagkapwa-tao” inspired others to peacefully change their own country the same way as shown to the many references to People Power during that time.

People Power would have been the perfect ending for our history books (as the Kasaysayan: The Story of the Filipino People volumes did in 1998 and more recently Vibal’s Unraveling the Past). It restored the democratic institutions and spaces, the free press, the decentralization of the government to the local government units or LGUs, the rise of volunteerism and civil society, interfaith dialogue and the development of the internet in the country. I would have loved to end my version of history that way but unfortunately, the story of our nation must continue with the controversies and coups that rocked the administration of Ninoy’s widow, Cory Aquino. People knew she had shortcomings, but they also felt she tried her best as president and remained popular, even as she peacefully transferred power to Fidel V. Ramos after the first post- EDSA presidential election.

General Ramos was a decorated military hero who, although an implementer of martial law, decided to break away from Marcos during the People Power uprising and became an EDSA hero. He ran with the blessing of the People Power President and under a party he called “Lakas Tao” (People Power). And because he was a plurality president, he wanted to make all people happy and built coalitions even with foes. He allowed the return of Marcos’ remains to the country in 1993.

Being conscious of history like his second cousin, Marcos, Ramos led the nation in celebrating the Philippine Centennial in 1998. It would have been another perfect bookend, his steady leadership made us a tiger “cub” economy (interrupted only by the 1997 Asian financial crisis). In the inauguration of Joseph Ejercito Estrada as the next president, you would see Imee Marcos and Butz Aquino sitting together in peace. Yet before this, he said he wanted bygones to be bygones and announced that he would allow the burial of Marcos in the Libingan ng mga Bayani, but this was met with opposition and foiled.

When it seemed that Ramos wanted charter change to extend his term, or when Estrada inspired an ad boycott by his movie producer friends to weaken the Inquirer, or when finally, juentengate exploded, Cory Aquino, Cardinal Sin and the People Power civil society rose up. People Power 2, or EDSA Dos, happened and ousted Estrada in 2001, but his supporters answered with EDSA Tres just three months after. The decisive President Gloria Arroyo promised in her second inaugural in 2004 that she would be a president of both the Filipinos of EDSA Dos and EDSA Tres, but allegations of corruption and election fraud led to Cory breaking away from her and calling for her resignation. Cory’s death in 2009 recalled People Power and pitted her memory against Arroyo which led to her son Noynoy rising to the presidency under the mantle of People Power heroes. But the pent-up frustrations of post-EDSA problems led to many people invoking the ghost of Marcos and the infrastructures he built and the supposedly ideal peace and order situation during his regime. Which led to Marcos being once again the center of passionate conversations. The yearning for strongman rule gave way to the rise of Rodrigo Duterte to the presidency. Marcos is once again in the center of the passions of the Filipino people. Has the People Power era ended?

Angela Stuart Santiago once wrote in beautiful Tagalog, “Sa kahulihan, ang kuwento ng EDSA ay sukdulang yugto ng tagisan nina Marcos at Ninoy na hindi naawat, bagkos ay pinag-ibayo, ng rehimeng militar.” And so is the story of the nation until today.

By Michael Charleston “Xiao” Chua

October 31, 2020

IN 1996, 50 years after the Americans gave back Philippine independence, a televised reenactment of the ceremonies played out at the Luneta. But during the solemn moment of the raising of the Philippine flag and the lowering of the American flag, the Stars and Stripes got entangled with the Three Stars and the Sun for a few minutes as the National Anthem played. But just before the last note of our anthem played out, the flag was finally untied and flew alone freely. In many ways, this gaffe reflected a reality, jokingly called the Star-Entangled Banner — our tumultuous special relationship with the United States, which highlighted our dependence on a foreign power.

The end of World War 2 in 1945 paved the way for the Cold War and a polarized world between the United States and its allies (First World War) and the Soviet Union and their satellites (Second World War). On the premise of stopping the spread of communism in Southeast Asia and keeping their interest intact in the region, the United States government tightened its grip on the Philippines.

Filipino leaders were caught between the devil that they knew and the devil that they didn’t and expressed their loyalty to America. Luis Taruc and Jesus Lava, leaders of the Communist guerrilla group Hukbo ng Bayan Laban sa Hapon, were unseated in Congress; deprived of their House seats, they went back to the mountains to wage an armed struggle. Aside from agrarian problems, they lamented the seeming continuation of US colonialism. Manuel Roxas, the first president of the new republic, wanted to follow the US line to crush the rebellion. But two years after assuming the presidency, before he could fulfill his potential in the pinnacle of his long career, he died in an American base in 1948. His vice president, Elpidio Quirino, succeeded him.

To say that all the leaders of the Philippines did not try to exercise an independent approach with the Americans is not totally accurate. Quirino, for one, was more pragmatic in his approach with the Americans. While negotiating the US Bases Treaty, Roxas played the agreeable person while his vice president chopped down the proposed 70 bases to 23, (16 permanent and six for emergency use). One US diplomat quipped, “The trouble with Quirino is that he is taking Philippine Independence too seriously.”

When Quirino became president, contrary to what the Americans thought, he believed that the Huks had legitimate grievances that had to be heard. He was able to successfully bring Taruc down the mountains to meet him in Malacañang but frustration and intrigue propelled Taruc to return to the mountains once again and the battle against the Huks ensued. The ambush of Doña Aurora Aragon-Quezon, the philanthropist widow of President Manuel Quezon, and her party by some rogue Huks did not help the situation. A former guerrilla leader and congressman from Zambales, Ramon Magsaysay, was picked by Quirino to be secretary of national defense to lead the fight against the Huks.

Quirino’s foreign policy prioritized relations with the United Nations rather than the United States. This jibed with his decision to aid 6,000 White Russian refugees fleeing from China, and the Philippines sending its best combat battalions to help South Korea defend its democracy from North Korean invasion.

To demonstrate the intervention of Americans in the Philippine elections at that time, the CIA urged Quirino’s political son, Magsaysay, to challenge him in the elections of 1953 and helped him in the campaign. Despite his competence, Quirino’s health and allegations of political patronage did not help his campaign. Magsaysay won in a landslide and, with a carrot and stick approach, weakened the Huk rebellion.

Nationalist lawmakers like the Senators Jose Laurel and Claro M. Recto pushed for the teaching of José Rizal’s life to counter neocolonialism despite great opposition from the Catholic Church hierarchy because of Rizal’s depiction of priests in his works. As president, Magsaysay tried to associate the country with the non-aligned countries (Third World). But when he died in a plane crash before running for a second term in 1957, he became America’s poster boy, a champion of democracy in Asia. An award was instituted in his name to honor the greatness of spirit in Asia like the Nobel, the Ramon Magsaysay Award.

President Carlos P. Garcia adopted a Filipino First policy in the economy, and President Diosdado Macapagal adopted a policy of the Philippines turning East. strengthening diplomatic relations with Asian and African countries. When he moved Philippine Independence Day from July 4 to June 12 the Americans were annoyed.

Despite these efforts, nationalist educators lamented the continuation of colonial education, calling it the miseducation of the Filipino. Corruption became rampant.

The people needed a leader that could inspire them just like John F. Kennedy, the brilliant young war-hero president with an adorable family, inspired America. In 1965, that promising leader did emerge: Ferdinand E. Marcos.

October 24, 2020

By Michael Charleston “Xiao” Chua

THE irony of liberation: The Filipinos won the war against the Japanese, but it left us with only devastation and a damaged culture.

Before the Second World War, the old folks said that you could leave anything anywhere and it would not be stolen. Not so many security guards were needed. But during those three years from 1942-1945, the people struggled and some felt the need to steal in order to survive. The hardships would have an immense effect on the psyche of the Filipino people.

Sure, before the war, there were already the problems of inequality and agrarian unrest. But in the post-war years, the old folks felt the rise of petty crimes and robbery. Our perspective of personal security was affected. Most of our tangible cultural heritage was also destroyed and this destruction erased whatever importance we gave to whatever was left. Intramuros, which was once the embodiment of the Pearl of the Orient, lay in ruins and gave way to urban informal settlers.

Despite the physical and psychological carnage, the Filipinos started rolling up their sleeves and began preparing for a future that was theirs for the taking. For the first time in the history of colonialism, a country willfully returned the independence of their colony as mandated by law. Having just been elected and sworn in as the last President of the Philippine Commonwealth, Manuel Roxas was sworn in as the first President of the newly established Republic of the Philippines (the third formal one in our history) on July 4, 1946. In a solemn and symbolic ceremony amid the rain at a makeshift grandstand ironically covering Rizal’s Monument, the Stars and Stripes were lowered and the Three Stars and the Sun were raised.

Roxas assigned his vice president, Elpidio Quirino, to create and head a Department of Foreign Affairs which immediately opened diplomatic relations with 27 countries. As our country was a major player in the establishment of the United Nations through Gen. Carlos Romulo (who would become President of the UN General Assembly), Quirino placed the relationship with the UN at the top of our pillars of democracy (and our relationship with the US only second).

But the Pacific War also left a divided world; its impact would be felt even in the country. The Allied Powers having won, partitioned it among themselves: the United States and Britain, and the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics. These powers divided the world with their ideologies and sphere of influence. Berlin was divided, Europe was divided, Korea was divided, Vietnam was divided. The post-war world was made to choose between communism and what the West called “the free world.”

Marxism, which gave the communist vision of a more equitable world, became attractive to many in the developing world. Thus, Southeast Asia became a battleground.

In the belief that if the communists would take over China, the whole of Korea, and eventually Vietnam, the other countries would fall one by one like dominoes and the East would turn Red. Even if this part of the world was thousands of miles from the US, the experience with Japan proved that it was in the best interest of America to keep these countries part of the free world.

This explains why despite independence, America felt the need to exert so much influence on their former colony, strategically located in the heart of the region. When they offered us a much needed rehabilitation assistance of $620 million through the Philippine Rehabilitation Act of 1946, they put some strings attached for it to be released: that our government sign the Military Bases Agreement that gave the US a 99-year lease to some 65,000-hectare military facilities, including Clark and Subic. Also, the Philippine Congress had to pass the Bell Trade Act which gave a favorable free trade clause to American products imported to the Philippines until 1974, while quota restrictions were given our products, the pegging of the value of peso to the US dollar and the parity clause that gave equal rights to US corporations to develop and exploit all agriculture, timber and minerals in the Philippines.

The paradox of independence was that the post-war years was the first era in almost four centuries that we were not under direct colonialism, and yet, we became some sort of an American neo-colony. Sen. Claro Recto noted, “The flagstaffs that still stand, two by two, in front of our public buildings, are the symbols of a psychological phenomenon, this split personality of our nation….” Only our flag flies, but in the minds of the people, the American flag was still there.

The problems that were carried into the new Republic would attract people to continue the fight in the mountains and carry the banner of communism.

By Michael Charleston “Xiao” Chua

October 10, 2020

THE Fall of Bataan on April 9, 1942 was a testament to Filipino valor against all odds taken against the context of most of Southeast Asia falling to the Japanese forces early in the war. But it was painful to see the images of defeat and surrender and thereafter the Filipino-American forces walking the hundred-kilometer Death March for five days under the hot sun and then being incarcerated at the Capas concentration camp. It was followed by the surrender a month later of the Rock, the island of Corregidor, on May 6.

As I said, the Fall of Bataan as the Araw ng Kagitingan holiday should remind Filipinos of our veterans’ valor, but it also denotes how we remember our tragedies more. Worse, the image of US Gen. Douglas MacArthur fulfilling his promise to return on the shores of Leyte Gulf on Oct. 20, 1944 made us think that we owe our liberation only to the Americans.

As one historian said, “[T]he contribution of the Filipino to the war has not been justly recognized.” We must go beyond the Fall of Bataan to see not just our valor but our victory. For we may have lost the battle at Bataan, but not the war.

The Fall of Bataan actually paved the way for a stronger guerrilla resistance movement around the country which actually started even while the Battle of Bataan was already happening in January 1942. People around the country started to band together and form groups like the Hukbalahap, Marking’s Guerrillas, and the Hunter’s ROTC Guerrillas. Even the ethnic Chinese in the Philippines fought with their own guerrilla groups. What they lacked in number and weapons, they compensated with their strategy and claimed many major victories. One victory by the Hunter’s ROTC guerrillas, the Ambush at Pugadlawin, was won by 19 Filipinos against about 200 Japanese.

MacArthur sent the submarine Spyron from Australia with his aide Chick Parsons to roam around and coordinate with guerrilla groups so they could be part of the overall plan to liberate the country. With this, they were able to send MacArthur important intelligence. When the plane bearing Admiral Mineichi Koga, the commander of a combined fleet of the Japanese imperial navy, crashed in the bay near Carcar, Cebu, they were able to intercept a case full of documents pertaining to Japanese plans and positions. Despite the efforts of the Japanese to scare Cebuanos into returning the documents by killing and burning the towns, the guerrillas found a way to transport the Koga papers to Negros through a waterproof mortar case, and from there were eventually brought by submarine to MacArthur.

The Filipinos were also part of the Great Raids that liberated the biggest POW camp in Southeast Asia in Cabanatuan, the biggest civilian internment camp in University of the Philippines Los Baños and the civilian internment camp at the University of Santo Tomas Sulucan campus.

It was not only military valor that was shown during the war, civilians went out of their way to help, sneaking food to soldiers and helping people escape during the Death March. Women like Magdalena Leones also contributed as spies for the Allies. Even society matrons like Josefa Llanes Escoda, Girl Scouts founder, risked their lives to distribute help to people in the concentration camps. Escoda paid heavily for that simple resistance with her life. Chief Justice Jose Abad Santos, caretaker of the government, refused to cooperate with the Japanese and was executed in front of his son, telling his son, “Do not cry Pepito, show these people that you are brave, it is an honor to die for one’s country. Not everyone has that chance.” Even the President of the Puppet Republic Jose P. Laurel, made so many interventions and concessions with the Japanese, saving the lives of many and minimizing the impact of the war on the populace.

The brutality of the Japanese occupation in those three years was demonstrated in the Battle of Manila from Feb. 3 to Mar. 3, 1945, where 100,000 civilians were killed as the Japanese defended the city from the liberating Filipino and American forces. The bodies of people, even babies — beheaded, bayoneted and shot — littered the streets, public buildings, even places of worship. The Rape of Manila, the second most-destroyed Allied city in the world, was only a reflection of what happened in many parts of the country.

Finally, on June 14, 1945, the guerrillas of the USAFIP-Northern Luzon defeated the Japanese at Bessang Pass. When they cornered General Tomoyuki Yamashita, the overall commander of the Japanese forces in the Philippines in Kiangan, Ifugao, he chose to surrender to the Americans on Sept. 2, 1945.

In a war, everybody is a loser. Nobody is a winner. But we should also look at how we used our wisdom as a people to help liberate ourselves from the Japanese and see that the triumphant Filipino can overcome even the worst tragedies.

By Michael Charleston “Xiao” Chua

October 3, 2020

THE end of the 1930s was an era of optimism in the Philippines. In a few years’ time, the Americans would fulfill their commitment to recognize our independence that they took away in 1899. But the 10-year transition known as the Commonwealth was of course met with the realities of governance.

And another storm was looming, for Asia was under the shadow of the flag of the Rising Sun, and the world under the spell of fascism and authoritarianism.

The Rising Sun flag, the Japanese flag featuring a sun with 16 symmetrical rays extending outward, was widely used by the Japanese Imperial Army and Navy and became a symbol of Japanese militarism and expansionism. It was a symbol of Japan’s ambitions, but dressed in noble intentions. The Japanese offered to free Asia from the yoke of European domination and create an Asia for the Asians.

That would be betrayed by Japan’s occupation of China where, in 1937, Japanese imperial troops killed approximately 300,000 people in what is called the Rape of Nanking.
Although a sizeable Japanese community was already present in the Philippines, particularly in Davao and in Manila where they had taken on odd jobs as gardeners, barbers, vendors, photographers, the country’s leaders still felt the fog of war and it was reflected in their addresses during the Commonwealth anniversary of Nov. 15, 1941.

In three weeks, Japan would bomb Pearl Harbor in Hawaii on December 8. In coordinated attacks, they bombed Manila and other cities such as Baguio. The American planes at Clark Field flew all morning but when they went down to refuel, they were wiped out by the Japanese. Some Japanese workers here turned out to be officials of the Japanese armed forces. President Manuel Quezon declared the arrival of zero hour. General Douglas MacArthur, Field Marshal of the Philippine Islands, who could not be contacted in the first hours after the attack, finally called on the Filipinos who trained under the Reserve Officers’ Training Corps to suit up to fight the Japanese. Quezon tried to convince the US government to actually declare the Philippines independent so he could declare the country to be neutral to avoid being invaded. The Americans thought that wouldn’t help anyway.

By January, many countries in Southeast Asia would welcome the Japanese as liberators against their European colonizers and Japan would easily take over them. In the Philippines, however, the response to General MacArthur’s call was overwhelming. Even the young cadets from the Philippine Military Academy and other universities, who were rejected so the youth could be preserved, did not go home but proceeded to the mountains to form their own guerrilla groups.

Why did the Filipinos reject the Japanese? Revolutionary heroes like Gen. Artemio Ricarte, who had spent the past decades in Japan, and President Emilio Aguinaldo welcomed the Japanese. In our revolutionary history, Japan was a hub for our heroes like Mariano Ponce. In the eyes of that generation, Japan was a friend. But most Filipinos wanted only to fight. They believed America’s promise of independence by 1945 and Japan was getting in the way of that dream.

MacArthur felt that the overwhelmingly long coastline of our archipelago could not be realistically defended and so ordered the army to proceed to Bataan. Manila was declared an Open City to prevent the destruction of the city (they still bombed it anyway), but the US-Filipino troops would be in Bataan and nearby Corregidor Island (Cavite) to block the entry of the big Japanese ships to Manila delivering their supplies and manpower.

The Commonwealth government and MacArthur were evacuated to Corregidor. For three months since the beginning of 1942, the Filipinos enthusiastically frustrated the Japanese by their successful defense of Bataan. The radio station Voice of Freedom kept the people’s spirits alive with promises of American reinforcements even if the Japanese were flying leaflets to our troops with photos of families and beautiful women just to entice them to go home and stop fighting.

But the reinforcements would not come. The US government in Washington decided they could not fight on two fronts and since it was difficult to bring supplies to the Philippines with the Japanese all over Asia, they decided to prioritize Europe. As our defenders started to suffer with the lack of food and ammunition, the Japanese reinforcements arrived and by April started their move against Bataan. The veterans told of how they resorted to digging boulders to throw at the Japanese because they had no bullets. Their stories told of the no-surrender attitude of the Filipinos.

But the Americans surrendered Bataan on April 9. Since 75,000 surrenderees could not be transported to the concentration camp at Capas, Tarlac, they were made to walk the hundred kilometers to Capas under the heat of the summer sun in what is known as the Death March.

The Filipinos were defeated, but they were the last to fall in Southeast Asia. The free world uttered, “Remember Bataan.” Filipinos became synonymous with courage.

By Michael Charleston “Xiao” Chua

September 12, 2020

“LAY down your arms and pick up the books.” This was already the call the Americans were making to themselves even before the smoke of war with the Filipinos had not yet settled. Wasn’t it their real mission to “Christianize” and “civilize” their little brown brothers here as our tutor (under tutelage)? And so, they started their quest to open education to a wider Filipino populace a few days after Dewey’s victory in May 1898. The first American teachers here were also the American volunteer-soldiers who taught 4,000 students in 39 schools.

In 1901, sincerely believing in the righteousness of their cause, American school teachers started coming to the Philippines. The first among them arrived in the boat called “Thomas,” hence, the “Thomasites.” Although the old Spanish colonial regime intended to make education more public, it was the Americans who were able to fully implement this policy. Every town was provided with bahay kubo-inspired school building designs, called the Gabaldon schoolhouses (named after the lawmaker who sponsored the law), set 3 kilometers apart in order that kids would not have to walk long to get to school. The Americans, knowing that there would be a need to pass the burden of teaching to the Filipinos themselves sooner or later, established the Philippine Normal School in 1906 and later, the University of the Philippines in 1908. Never before was formal instruction widely available to the people of the Philippines.

And seemingly true to form, in wanting to ring the bells of liberty for the Filipinos, the United States allowed freedom of worship, which paved the way for the establishment of the various religious denominations in the country and the emergence of the indigenous Filipino church, the Iglesia ni Cristo, in 1914. It also implemented public health and sanitation systems which dramatically improved the lives of the people.

In the same year that the revolutionary president Macario Sakay was executed in 1907, one of his demands, the Philippine Assembly, was formed. In the same year that the last battle of the Philippine-American War was waged in Bud Bagsak in Jolo, Sulu, in 1913, the Americans started to allow Filipinos to be part of the bureaucracy, a move known as “Filipinization.” Eventually, with the enactment of the Jones Law in 1916, which promised eventual Independence once a “stable government is established,” the Philippine Senate was born.

Despite all these steps to train Filipinos for self-governance, it can be argued that the colonial system of education tightened the grip of the Americans on the minds and hearts of the Filipinos, proving that it is really not about being educated per se, but what one has learned in that education. And the colonial mindset was being formed on the very first day of school, when one was taught the alphabet: “A is for apple.” And a people in the land without apples started to crave for apples and became a market for other American goods. Filipinos learned more about the heroes of the US, and their books reflected the greatness of America.

The Americans also used the new technology of radio to spread American music and consumer goods but since they lacked the personnel, Filipino announcers killed time inviting Filipino singers to sing kundiman, and colonial radio was appropriated to spread our own culture.

But as the public school system made possible the primacy of English as the language of learning, business and government, not only did our colonial dependency deepen, but the great cultural divide between the haves and the have-nots widened. In the continuing spirit of kapatiran, a number of social movements strengthened advocating kaginhawahan for all and not just a few. It climaxed in the Sakdal agrarian revolt that occurred in many places in 1935. One orator expressed their sentiments in words, “Give me land. Land to own. Land unbeholden to any tyrant. Land that will be free. Give me land for I am starving…. I am poor but I will pay it! I will work, work until I fall from weariness for my privilege, for my inalienable right to be free!”

Major Filipino statesmen headed to the United States to lobby the US Congress for an independence bill. Finally, the Tydings-McDuffie Law was enacted in 1935 and a 10-year transition period was provided for Filipinos to handle most of the affairs of government. The leading Filipino politicians since 1907 — Manuel Quezon and Sergio Osmeña, became president and vice president of the Philippine Commonwealth. Despite the challenges, Filipino leadership offered a vision of social justice and readiness to face modernity. Women were given the right to vote and the use of the national language was implemented. Quezon even undertook to take care of 1,300 European Jews fleeing from the Nazis and showcased Filipino pakikipagkapwa-tao.

But we will never know what more could have been accomplished by a Filipino leadership in transition, because halfway through their tenure, the winds of war swept in.