On citizenship, Rizal, and his fighting pen
Published Jun 24, 2018 12:05 am
By Joem Antonio
There’s a little classroom trick I used to do when I was still teaching Philippine History or Rizal Studies, and this is something you might want to test as well: Name the first five national heroes who come to mind.
Chances are that you would have mentioned Rizal and Bonifacio. The latter three can possibly include Antonio Luna, Apolinario Mabini, Macario Sakay, Lapulapu, and other names we remember from elementary and high school.
PORTRAIT OF OUR NATIONAL HERO Jose Rizal in Spain
Before we proceed with this classroom trick, I’d like to ask a question: what do we have national heroes for, anyway? Sure, we celebrate what they have done for our country. But have we been adding to that list of national heroes? Should we be adding to this list?
This is not a series of cynical questions, but rather a reflective one. I believe in the need for recognizing national heroes, and I believe that the initial purpose is this: In the same way that we look up to sports heroes and guitar heroes, looking up to national heroes serves a similar purpose—if we look at sports heroes as what an ideal sportsman should be, it’s reasonable to assume that we look at national heroes as what the citizen should be. And based on our list of five national heroes, what is common about them? What kind of citizenship are we subconsciously aspiring for?
Chances are, you would have said something to the effect of, “They fought against ” or “They fought for ,” and probably, you are right in saying this. We do have a colorful history peppered with a lot of struggles that challenge us to step up. And I do hear from a lot of students is this sentence, “Rizal fought with his pen.” But that raises another question: Is that what characterizes the kind of citizenship we’re aspiring for? A citizen in battle?
Before anyone brings up us having started a peaceful revolution, I’d like to call to attention our national anthem or, rather, some parts of it: “sa manlulupig, ‘di ka pasisiil” or “aming ligaya nang ‘pag may mang-aapi”... The Filipino Citizen as a Fighter remains. How many times have we sung Lupang Hinirang without thinking of this detail? Again, there’s nothing wrong with us being fighters. There are lots of things to fight for, to fight against. But it is indeed interesting how we’ve built ourselves that link between citizenship and fighting. What happens when there’s no “manlulupig” or no “mang-aapi”? Who do we fight against, then? What do we fight for, then?
These are the same questions I used to ask my students. Do we have national heroes—examples of ideal citizens—in the times of peace and plenty? Maybe we haven’t enjoyed much peace, or enjoyed much times of plenty… Maybe because we seek something to fight against, or fight for… Maybe because we seek for an oppressor we can manifest our citizenship to…
And this is when I look back to Rizal. There are two important things Rizal does that is sadly overshadowed by the popularity of his two novels. In his last political document, Manifesto to Certain Filipinos, he writes, “I have given many proofs that I desire as much as the next man liberties for our country; I continue to desire them. But I laid down as a prerequisite the education of the people in order that by means of such instruction, and by hard work, they may acquire a personality of their own and so become worthy of such liberties. In my writings I have recommended study and the civic virtues, without which no redemption is possible.”
Education, hard work. Study and the civic virtues. This clarifies Padre Florentino’s answer to Simoun: “To suffer and work!” This expands the idea of citizenship to more than just fighting.
Let’s look at Rizal in 1893, as he is exiled in Dapitan, how he spends his day:
“I get up early, at five o’clock, inspect my fields, feed the chickens, wake-up my workers and get them working. At half-past seven, we breakfast on tea, pastries, cheese, sweets, etc. Then I examine and give treatment to my poor patients who come to see me. I dress and go in my baroto to visit my patients in town. I return at noon and have lunch made ready for me. Afterwards I teach my boys until four o’clock and spend the rest of the afternoon in the fields. At night I read and study.” (Rizal to Blumentritt, 19 December 1893)
But, we can say, Rizal is Rizal! We do not have the advantages he had. Replace his activities with ours, and we’d see how much we can do. Definitely much, much more than just waiting for an oppressor to fight against. Heroism is built on these mundane blocks of every day, not on the opportunity for an epic conflict. If there’s anything we do have to fight against, it’s probably complacency and the “need for drama.” In the case of Rizal, especially in this light, it’s not that he really sought out the drama; the drama went to him! But with the drama or without, Rizal did what he did because that was what was necessary for his community. And it’s nice to think of Rizal in this light, rather than getting stuck with the image of Rizal and his fighting pen. Perhaps, this way, we’ll demand more from our citizenship than an opportunity to fight.
PORTRAIT OF OUR NATIONAL HERO Jose Rizal in Spain
Before we proceed with this classroom trick, I’d like to ask a question: what do we have national heroes for, anyway? Sure, we celebrate what they have done for our country. But have we been adding to that list of national heroes? Should we be adding to this list?
This is not a series of cynical questions, but rather a reflective one. I believe in the need for recognizing national heroes, and I believe that the initial purpose is this: In the same way that we look up to sports heroes and guitar heroes, looking up to national heroes serves a similar purpose—if we look at sports heroes as what an ideal sportsman should be, it’s reasonable to assume that we look at national heroes as what the citizen should be. And based on our list of five national heroes, what is common about them? What kind of citizenship are we subconsciously aspiring for?
Chances are, you would have said something to the effect of, “They fought against ” or “They fought for ,” and probably, you are right in saying this. We do have a colorful history peppered with a lot of struggles that challenge us to step up. And I do hear from a lot of students is this sentence, “Rizal fought with his pen.” But that raises another question: Is that what characterizes the kind of citizenship we’re aspiring for? A citizen in battle?
Before anyone brings up us having started a peaceful revolution, I’d like to call to attention our national anthem or, rather, some parts of it: “sa manlulupig, ‘di ka pasisiil” or “aming ligaya nang ‘pag may mang-aapi”... The Filipino Citizen as a Fighter remains. How many times have we sung Lupang Hinirang without thinking of this detail? Again, there’s nothing wrong with us being fighters. There are lots of things to fight for, to fight against. But it is indeed interesting how we’ve built ourselves that link between citizenship and fighting. What happens when there’s no “manlulupig” or no “mang-aapi”? Who do we fight against, then? What do we fight for, then?
These are the same questions I used to ask my students. Do we have national heroes—examples of ideal citizens—in the times of peace and plenty? Maybe we haven’t enjoyed much peace, or enjoyed much times of plenty… Maybe because we seek something to fight against, or fight for… Maybe because we seek for an oppressor we can manifest our citizenship to…
And this is when I look back to Rizal. There are two important things Rizal does that is sadly overshadowed by the popularity of his two novels. In his last political document, Manifesto to Certain Filipinos, he writes, “I have given many proofs that I desire as much as the next man liberties for our country; I continue to desire them. But I laid down as a prerequisite the education of the people in order that by means of such instruction, and by hard work, they may acquire a personality of their own and so become worthy of such liberties. In my writings I have recommended study and the civic virtues, without which no redemption is possible.”
Education, hard work. Study and the civic virtues. This clarifies Padre Florentino’s answer to Simoun: “To suffer and work!” This expands the idea of citizenship to more than just fighting.
Let’s look at Rizal in 1893, as he is exiled in Dapitan, how he spends his day:
“I get up early, at five o’clock, inspect my fields, feed the chickens, wake-up my workers and get them working. At half-past seven, we breakfast on tea, pastries, cheese, sweets, etc. Then I examine and give treatment to my poor patients who come to see me. I dress and go in my baroto to visit my patients in town. I return at noon and have lunch made ready for me. Afterwards I teach my boys until four o’clock and spend the rest of the afternoon in the fields. At night I read and study.” (Rizal to Blumentritt, 19 December 1893)
But, we can say, Rizal is Rizal! We do not have the advantages he had. Replace his activities with ours, and we’d see how much we can do. Definitely much, much more than just waiting for an oppressor to fight against. Heroism is built on these mundane blocks of every day, not on the opportunity for an epic conflict. If there’s anything we do have to fight against, it’s probably complacency and the “need for drama.” In the case of Rizal, especially in this light, it’s not that he really sought out the drama; the drama went to him! But with the drama or without, Rizal did what he did because that was what was necessary for his community. And it’s nice to think of Rizal in this light, rather than getting stuck with the image of Rizal and his fighting pen. Perhaps, this way, we’ll demand more from our citizenship than an opportunity to fight.