In 1999, University of the Philippines professor Cesar Adib Majul penned a critique of historian Renato Constantino’s essay, Our Task: To Make Rizal Obsolete. Constantino argued that Jose Rizal, while historically significant, should be displaced as a model for contemporary nation-building because his reformist approach was less radical than what modern struggles demand. Majul asserted that Rizal’s enduring value lies in his evolving relevance, particularly as a symbol of intellectual rigor, moral conviction, and love for the Filipino people.
Fast forward to 2024, 128 years after Rizal’s execution, and the debate remains strikingly relevant. In a country grappling with chronic corruption, systemic inequality, environmental degradation, and threats to democratic institutions, the question arises: Can Rizal still inspire us today, or has he become obsolete in a world requiring more immediate and radical solutions?
Rizal, according to Majul, was not merely a reformist; he was a revolutionary of thought and character. His insistence on education as the bedrock of societal transformation and his belief in peaceful reform over violent upheaval were not acts of compromise but of profound foresight. He envisioned a nation that could achieve sovereignty not just through political independence but through a collective awakening of intellectual and moral consciousness.
This vision remains relevant in 2024, where the Philippines finds itself at a crossroads. The challenges Rizal confronted—colonialism, social stratification, and the abuse of power—manifest today in different forms: economic neocolonialism, digital misinformation, and environmental exploitation. Rizal’s insistence on critical thinking and moral leadership offers a blueprint for addressing these contemporary issues.
Critics argue that Rizal’s emphasis on education and reform lacks the urgency needed to combat oppressive structures. In today’s world, where social media fuels mass movements and grassroots activism demands swift action, Rizal’s methods might seem too deliberative. However, this critique overlooks the depth of Rizal’s strategy. His novels, “Noli Me Tangere” and “El Filibusterismo,” were not mere calls for reform but critiques of systemic injustices that laid the intellectual groundwork for revolution. In this sense, Rizal was both a reformist and a revolutionary, demonstrating that profound change requires both immediate action and long-term cultural and mindset shifts.
In an age where many Filipinos feel disillusioned by corruption and systemic failures, Rizal’s unwavering commitment to his principles—despite the personal cost—remains an inspiring model. His refusal to compromise his ideals, even in the face of death, challenges today’s leaders and citizens alike to embody integrity and accountability.
In a country as diverse as the Philippines, Rizal’s vision of a united Filipino identity, grounded in shared values and aspirations, is particularly resonant. In 2024, as the nation navigates regional disparities, cultural fragmentation, and the globalized pressures of migration, Rizal’s call for solidarity and collective action is a necessary reminder of what it means to be Filipino.
To dismiss Rizal as obsolete is to misunderstand his legacy. His ideas are not static relics of the past but dynamic principles that can be reinterpreted to address present challenges. The task, therefore, is not to render Rizal irrelevant but to reinvigorate his teachings, ensuring they remain a beacon for future generations.
As we commemorate 128 years since his martyrdom, the Philippines must look to Rizal not as a distant historical figure but as a guiding light in the ongoing quest for justice, equality, and national dignity.