Image Courtesy of the Malacang Tumblr

There is little doubt that Rizal casts a shadow over our understanding of the 19th century and the Philippine Revolution. We often see him less the inheritor, the flowering so to speak, of previous Philippine intellectual thought and movements, and more the Great Creator of Filipinas, never equaled prior or after. From a certain perspective, that of the need for heroes and heroism, its wholly appropriate; even necessary. But from another, that of nation-building and connectivity, Rizal becomes even more…compelling and resonant.

This leads me to wonder: Why should heroes remain historically static? That’s one of the issues that pervades our popular understanding of the past. We have a tendency to enforce artificially constructed dichotomies. This is a trap, one that I readily admit I fall into at times. In the case of Rizal, we argue in binary simplicities: Reformist vs Revolutionary or, perversely, Bonifacio vs Rizal. Even something as inane as Hero vs Villain. We seem to want to (erroneously) compartmentalize our Heroic Pantheon. History operates in the margins, the shades of grey (to use an expression that has unfortunately become salacious). History is not stark, like those old black and white photographs we love to admire. It’s full of shading and mysteries; little possibilities that tease the imagination and make us wonder: What more? What happened? What does it mean?

For students of history, that is the allure of its study. The idea that in the past we can find explanations and answers to the present condition. That is also its inherent trap: This demand to apply the current condition to the past leads us to often times erroneous conclusions. Methodology and evidence are the fundamental foundation of any historical conclusions; unfortunately those are sometimes substitutes for ideology and preconceived notions of right and wrong. One idea worth considering is that every generation must re-engage with the past; it has to look at our shared history with new eyes and draw new conclusions that help retain and maintain relevance.

For me, one of the more compelling, even beautiful, aspects of Rizal’s works is his idea, his fervent belief, that there are connections and relationships between all Filipinos. Even as he satirized our society, he was pointing us towards a future where we worked together, bled and lived together, all to construct something new and hopeful and wonderful. It is an idea that crosses socio-economic boundaries and even nation-states. In a way, I think Rizal was a wide-eyed optimist; underneath the sarcasm and much needed critical nature beat the heart of a man who dreamed of better and brighter tomorrows. He knew he would never live to see them, but I firmly believe he knew one day those who came after would. With all of the intricacies and complexities of the modern world, that relatively untapped resonance in Rizal’s works becomes vitally important. It seems that we are constantly fighting a battle between a perceived need for insularity (driven by pseudo-nationalism) and a desire to connect more deeply with the rest of the world. Within that tension though there exists an intersection between defining the self and nation and connecting to the global community. Rizal was driven by a need to construct a new vision of the Philippines grounded in a reconsideration of our historical past. An intriguing idea still today.

Despite our fascination with Rizal, there is so much of him and his ideas left unengaged. There are a many different interpretations of Rizal, all worthy in their own way: Rizal the Humanist, the Historian, the Social Critic, or the Political Philosopher. That is part of his brilliance, these undiscovered countries hidden within his writings. That is why he and his works, even after over a century and a half after his death, remain so fresh and intriguing. And while he will continue to be important far into the future.

In his time, Rizal was noted for his proficient use of any medium at hand to disseminate his writings. Last year, Anvil Publishing and the Philippine Daily Inquirer asked the question:  ”If Rizal were a blogger, what would he have blogged about?” (Read the winning essay here).

Knowing Rizal’s history, there is little doubt that no only would Rizal have been a blogger, he would have taken advantage of all the various platforms available in social media. He did during his day, penning essays, novels, articles, poetry, speeches, and scholarly essays to promote his critiques of and hopes for the Philippines. He took advantage of the various mediums at hand to spread his message far and wide, to touch on every possible audience in at home and abroad. And yes, his polemics were banned, labeled as seditious and fomenting rebellion against a ‘lawful’ imperial power. His memory, and writings, were so powerful the United States chose to corrupt his image and legacy, instead of actively trying to stamp it out.

The insidious nature of the Cybercrime Prevention Act of 2012 has been dissected and demonstrated elsewhere; most cohesively and cogently by Father Bernas. One of his more critical points refers to the powers of the executive arm of government:

“The chilling part is the empowerment of the executive arm “to effectively prevent and combat [cyber] offenses by facilitating their detection, investigation and prosecution at both the domestic and international levels, and by providing arrangements for fast and reliable international cooperation.”

As we have already noted, there are serious concerns with regards to the Cybercrime Law and the upholding and protection of essential universal human rights. In some ways, as Father Bernas also hints, basic protection of human rights and the creation of a human resource development oriented society and portions of the Cybercrime Law are incompatible. Additionally, as Father Bernas points out:

“Libel has been decriminalized in other civilized jurisdictions. Our legislature, instead, will throw us back to the dark ages by imposing a higher penalty for libel. In effect, the advance in communication technology is being treated not as a boon but as a bane.”

Rizal’s writings are easily classified as seditious and revolutionary. In fact, portions of his work rigorously defended the protection of human rights under an increasingly inhumane imperial order. He repeatedly attacked, insulted, and memorialized the idiocy of those in power through his use of satire. His works reject tyranny, reject fiat from on high, reject debasement by an over-reaching government structure, and affirms human dignity and development through the protection of universal human rights. We know he attacked leadership, civil and religious, in the hopes of sparking outraged sentiment among Filipinos:

“I have tried to do what no one has been willing to do; I have had to reply to the calumnies which for centuries have been heaped upon us and our country; I have described the state of our society, our life, our beliefs, our hopes, our desires, our laments, and our grievances…”

Intellectually honest and well-founded dissent and criticism is required, a requisite, for a functioning democracy. History is very clear on this point. Although freedoms and rights are not absolute, the protection of them, in many ways, must be. Else, we find ourselves teetering yet again on the brink of totalitarianism.

Rizal was pointed and scathing in many of his social and political critiques. His anger, in works like the Fili, is still palpable today:

“Stupider still then, when, knowing it to be bad, he does not give it up, but goes on wasting time. Not only is he stupid, but is a cheat and a robber, because he knows that his work is useless, yet continues to draw his salary. Not only is he stupid and a thief, he is a villain in that he prevents any other workmen from trying his skill to see if he might not produce something worth while? The deadly jealousy of the incompetent!”

Despite assertions to the contrary, vilification does not live on in perpetuity in cyberspace alone. Rizal’s derogations remain, and in many ways continue (erroneously or not) to color our view of power and the Church. His denunciations were inflammatory, his polemics incisive, and his exhortations inflamed the latent passions of a developing nation. In the 19th century, he so angered those in power, and made them fear the influence of what he was saying, that he was arrested, jailed, tried, and ultimately executed.

The world of Jose Rizal and today are far different. Despite serious flaws in our socio-political framework, we do enjoy things like due process, warrants, and fundamental protection of human rights under the Constitution. Despite my reservations on the Cybercrime Law, I do not believe that the Aquino administration would exert power to prevent either its repeal, amendment, or the excising of especially controversial provisions. I still retain that hope and belief that this measure will be successfully contested and those in power, even if they tacitly agreed to it either through vote, ignorance, or signature, will come to their senses. However, what if the political milieu was far different? What if someone like Ferdinand Marcos or Arroyo had this law and its power at their disposal? Vigilance then is always required to protect our rights and freedoms. Just three decades ago we lived in a world not so far removed from Rizal’s. That should give anyone pause.

To be frank, it is not historically or scholarly appropriate to try and figure a historical figure into a modern milieu and attempt to attribute actions and words to him. That is the hallmark of bad history. Despite that, some adaption must be undertaken to make sure that their legacy remains resonant. In all of the talk about the Cybercrime Act I have heard no one draw on our past in defense of civic values, freedoms, and human rights that we perceive as under attack. What did Rizal stand for? What did Bonifacio stand for? What did was Aguinaldo, Mabini, Jacinto, and del Pilar fighting for? And are those values protected and defended?

If we can imagine Rizal the Blogger, we have to think of Rizal as the Social Critic in the modern age. Imagine Rizal publishing his works through social media today. Now whether his words are applicable or not today (again far different contexts), would his use of social media to disseminate his particular brand of anti-state and anti-imperial power have brought him to the attention of the government? Could his polemics have been considered criminally libelous today? Could he be arrested on the strength of what he wrote in the past?

Which brings us to the questions at hand:

If Rizal were writing today as a blogger, or on Twitter, or through Facebook, could his freedoms be threatened and his property confiscated? Could he be charged under the Cybercrime Prevention Act?

More importantly, would Rizal be found guilty?

Could Jose Rizal, National Hero of the Philippines by general acclaim, be branded a criminal?

Tiny Dancer Hero

There is this idea that heroes inevitably reflect their country. When you think about it historical heroes exist as receptacles of a nation’s hopes and dreams. They are the guiding lights, the individuals who helped shape the nature of a people. Heroes are, in other words, can be considered the soul and conscience of a country. Their philosophies, ideals, and examples acting as the benchmarks for right collective action. That, as well, is why each generation must recast their nation’s heroes in new forms and view them in new perspectives. Heroes and their actions, much like all of history, are consistently up for reinterpretation. Without that process they will never be relevant. A disturbing question to ask is if our heroes are really relevant today.

As a result, studying how our heroes are approached and constructed in the public sphere gives a country an understanding of who they are as a people. Heroes are a reflection of the values of a people. And if that is the case, as I strongly suspect it is, then the way we currently construct Jose Rizal (the way we approach him and his legacy) does not speak too well of us.

There is something faintly disturbing about the fact that more is written, and known, in popular society (and pop history) about how many languages Rizal spoke (and how many women he supposedly bedded) than the importance of his annotated Morga. Or even that there is this pervasive sense of Rizal the Reformer, without understanding that his reforms were designed to lead to a successful revolution. Oh yes, with Jose Rizal we have turned one of our greatest heroes, one of the great men in history, into a small man; composed of tiny insignificant details that does little to deepen, challenge, or broaden our understanding of Rizal in his (and our) milieu.

If our heroes our a reflection of our society, then how we approach Rizal is all the more damning for how small it makes us look. Maybe Nick Joaquin was right, maybe we have become a nation of minutia.

Personalizing Rizal

There is an interesting ancillary thought when it comes to heroes. More often than not, their importance rests on how an individual approaches and engages with their legacy. We often like to think of heroes in how they changed a society, or how they rebelled against the circumstances of their day. But, the importance of those events and actions lies in how they resonate with the individual. How someone like Rizal, through his words and deeds, will inspire a young Filipino to lead a life dedicated to service, or to benefit their fellow man, or to help the less fortunate. Or even to fight for a collective ideal.

My experience with Rizal, in many ways, I think differs from the norm. I did not actually learn that much about Rizal in a formal educational setting (a by-product of where I went to school). Instead, my discovery of Rizal was shepherded by three of out greatest Rizalistas. So, instead of learning about Rizal through the interpretations (misguided in many cases) of writers like Agoncillo, or Constantino, or Zaide, I read Rizal. I read his essays, his novels, his poems, and his speeches. This began when I was a kid. You could say I was brainwashed to adore Rizal. And quite frankly, I would not disagree.

It goes without saying that I was singularly lucky in how I learned about Rizal. And I do not say this to ‘brag’ or ‘boast’ about the experience. But, when I read some of the more flagrantly disturbing interpretations of Rizal it is shocking. For example, Constantino and his reformist trope. The fact that Constantino had to stoop to carefully editing Rizal’s words so they would fit his preconceptions is practically scandalous. Yet, in many ways, Constantino’s vision of Rizal is broadly accepted.

One of the problems, and this I feel strongly, with our current approach to Rizal is that it removes him from our ability to relate. Yes, it’s fantastic and all that Rizal learned 23 languages (yeah…whatever). But to continue to hold that up as a reason why he should be admired is kind of ridiculous. It’s the aggrandizement of minutia. Of little pieces of flotsam and jetsam that basically add up to something ephemeral.

Because of how we approach Rizal, with all these misguided attempts at humanizing him, we (individually and collectively) fail to approach him as he would have wanted: Through his ideas. His dreams. His hopes. His understanding of the Philippines. Its his words that should inspire. His real words, not those carefully edited and culled by colonially deficient pseudo-historians. Not the number of women he supposedly slept with. And most definitely not in the number of languages he spoke.

Yes, Rizal’s words. How novel.

The Three Parts of Rizal’s Writings

One of the saddest parts of how we have let Rizal down is with regards to his three great works: Noli Me Tangere, El Filibusterismo, and his annotated Morga. We all know the Noli and the Fili, few know the Morga. Which is sad, because while the Noli and Fili reflected his criticisms and worries about the present and future, the Morga is where his passion for the Filipino comes shining through.

The story of the Morga is almost romantic: Rizal sitting in the vastness of a library in London, painstakingly hand copying Antonio de Morga’s Sucesos de las Islas Filipinas. Rizal went on to review and read every historical account of the Philippines he could get his hands on. Using those materials, he combed through the entire Morga line by line, offering up pointed criticisms of Morga’s history of the Philippines. In those notations we discover Rizal’s unwavering belief in the goodness and nobility of the Filipino; even if the scholarship upon which those notations were made was questionable at best. Rizal firmly believed that the study of history must be in service of the needs of the present. This was history as pure propaganda. Rizal’s purpose was to ignite the spirit of the Filipino by ‘showing’ them what was lost. In terms of the scholarly study of history, this type of myth-building is unacceptable. But, for a man who was fighting to preserve the soul of his country, it is perfectly acceptable and understandable. Sometimes you need collective myths to inspire a slumbering people.

Father John Schumacher makes the point that the Noli, Fili, and Morga offer up Rizal’s pathway to nationalism for the Philippines. The Morga was the historical foundation upon which the new Philippine nation was to be built; the Noli a searing criticism of the current ills of colonial society; while the Fili was a warning against certain actions that had no hope (at that time) of proving to be successful.

Last year, as we all well remember, was Jose Rizal’s 150th birth anniversary. There was the expected pomp and circumstance necessary for such an august occasion. And this year is the 151st celebration of his birthday. I wonder…do we know him any better? For all that has gone on in the last year, are we any closer to understanding what he hoped and dreamed of for the Philippines?

The answer is easily found actually. Just take a look at how his popular image is used and abused. It is almost disturbing how many people seem to speak on behalf of Rizal nowadays.

Broadly, we lack critical engagement with Jose Rizal’s actual words. Too much of his writings are filtered through almost perversely erroneous ideology. It is…unfortunate. And it seems that as the years pass by we are leaving Rizal further and further behind.

panchodelaluna:

(Noam Chomsky)

A good friend of mine, iwriteasiwrite, rightfully observes that “there is a distinct lack of public intellectuals in the Philippines; men and women who not only challenge the system, but seeks redemptive national paths.,” and that this “lack” is “deeply…

This is an amazing essay and well worth the time to read.

My friend @panchodelaluna (with his inimitable style and grace) has pointed out a serious shortfall in Philippine public discourse, well actually the major shortfall in Philippine public discourse: The complete lack of worthy public intellectuals. His fundamental basis for that argument utilizes the definitions and discourse of Edward Said; a man who should be far more popular and well known among the limited ‘intelligensia’ in this country. Sadly, I truly cannot say he is even that known, outside of a few people who have studied abroad. Said’s notes on intellectuals and their role in society are incredibly important in the Philippines today. Without individuals taking on that public intellectual leadership role I fear our social and intellectual progress (set aside economic) will remain stillborn.

The very obvious problem is, the intellectuals have abandoned this task of speaking the truth and exposing lies, that the emperor has no clothes indeed, by associating themselves with power systems and upholding their meritorious profession in disregard of its attendant responsibilities.

To be regarded as a public intellectual implies undertaking tasks outside his or her own specialized field; which entails, as Edward Said noted and exemplified, “passionate engagement, risk, exposure, commitment to principles, vulnerability and being involved in worldly causes.”

If the public looks up to politicians as public intellectuals from what Said underlines, from the most objective, rational point of view, politicians are (almost) a compete failure. 

- @panchodelaluna

Our politicians have taken it upon themselves to be the intellectual luminaries of the nation. They play both sides against the middle, never taking a stand and instead preferring to pander to the vast needs of the masses. They say they are out to reform the system, while upholding it through corruption and back room dealings. They emasculate the Filipino through sleight of hand and advertising chicanery. The role of the intellectual has been appropriated and what is left are court jesters; men and women who willingly support the machinations of the politicians in exchange for political and economic favoritism.

There are many though who trying to reform the system. They are found on the ground, in NGOs, working with the people. There are writers and thinkers in the public sphere and the academe who decry the state of the nation, and actually try and do something about it.

But, let’s be clear here, just because someone says that the system is rotten does not mean they are fulfilling the role of the public intellectual. More often than not those who are most vehement are the most ideologically bound, the most prone to forgoing values in favor of political expediency. By expediency I mean, supporting an empty ideology so wholly and completely that the focus of bettering the lives of Filipinos is lost.

Being a member of the peanut gallery is not enough; they have to become leaders in trying to reshape the nation. Leadership is far more than the simplistic idea of the man making the decisions. It is about being active and positive forces for public change, in any milieu. Being a leader does not require a position of authority; managers require authority. Leaders just need opportunity.

Let me be quite clear, those who spend most of their time railing against the status quo primarily because they don’t like the person in power, or they aren’t of the same political leanings, or they didn’t vote for them, or for any number of reasons and remain on that level are part of the problem. The issues facing the Philippines are so vast that it requires not only leadership in government, but leaders in civil society to attack, tear down, and rebuild the system.

When it comes to the various -isms, I usually reserve my fiercest criticisms, precisely because they inevitably intellectually emasculate their blind devotees. What ever the political or philosophical leaning, these various schools of thought provide the prisms through which to identity and address social and economic issues at hand. The school of thought itself is not the solution. Relying on communism or capitalism to be the solution is the same as expecting a benevolent dictator to take control and lead us to the promised land: It is lazy, it betrays a lack of intellectual fortitude and the much-needed constancy to identify, face, and work to address social ills.

Instead, we have changeable ninnies in the public sphere; men and women who confuse being subversive with being loud and contentious; with being incisive with being divisive. The end result is a dead public discourse; one burdened with rhetoric and recriminations and little in the way of actual discussions.

I firmly believe that we need a new focus on the development of public intellectuals to truly reshape the Philippines. That is what we mean when we say we need more Rizals.

The Quote:

Don’t you see how everything is awakening? The sleep has lasted for centuries, but one day the thunderbolt struck, and in striking, infused life. Since then new tendencies are stirring our spirits, and there tendencies, today scattered, will some day be united, guided by the God who has not failed other peoples and will not fail us, for His cause is the cause of liberty!

- Jose Rizal, The Social Cancer

The Painting:

The Barricade, rue de la Mortellerie, June 1848 (or Memory of Civil War) by Ernest Meissonier, 1848. A haunting piece depicting the aftermath of the workers riots in June 1848 in Paris, France.

The Quote

Language has no answer to the questions of love that either shimmer or hide within a glance. The smile must respond, the kiss, the sigh.

- Jose Rizal, Noli Me Tangere

The Piece

Cupid and Psyche by Antonio Canova, 1757. A sculpture that depicts the final moment, when Psyche is awoken by a kiss from Cupid.

The Quote

On the field of battle, fighting with delirium,

others give you their lives without doubts, without gloom

The site nought matters: cypress, laurel or lily:

gibbet or open field: combat or cruel martyrdom

are equal if demanded by country and home.

- Jose Rizal (translation by Nick Joaquin)

The Painting

Liberty Leading the People, Eugene Delacroix 1830. One of the most famous of French paintings, it depicts Liberty, represented by the woman, boldly leading Frenchmen in impassioned revolt to overthrow a repressive and antiquated Regime.

The Quote

The sea, the sea is everything! Its sovereign mass
brings to me atoms of a myriad faraway lands;
Its bright smile animates me in the limpid mornings
And when at the end of day my faith has failed me
My heart echoes the sound of its sorrow in the sands.

 - Jose Rizal, Mi Retiro (translated by Nick Joaquin)

The Painting

Starry NIght over the Rhone by Vincent Van Gogh, September 1888. Van Gogh was fascinated with nightscapes; the result was some of his most compelling and haunting work (including Starry Starry Night). 

The Quote:

…they began to break their looms, abandon their mines, the fields…believing that their rulers would leave them alone on seeing them poor, wretched, and unexploitable…

- Jose Rizal

The Painting:

Workers Returning Home by Edvard Munch, 1913-1915. Oil on canvas. A painting designed to offer a critique of industrialization and its dehumanizing effects.