A half-forgotten Quezon: Yet half a century later, his words have power to inspire us still

I wonder how many– or how few – will remember that today is the 124th anniversary of the late President Manuel L. Quezon, who was born in the small fishing town of Baler, Tayabas (now Quezon province) on August 19, 1878.

To the young who never knew him, Quezon is just a place name, for Quezon Boulevard, Quezon Circle, Quezon City, and, of course, Quezon province. And yet, Quezon – or MLQ as he’s referred to in acronym – should be a role model for the young. Although he dominated the Philippine political scene for 39 years, starting with his election in 1905 as governor of Tayabas at the age of 27, he was a youthful revolucionario, barely out of his teens when he fought the Spaniards and later the Americans.

In a land in which politics is worshipped, or conversely abhorred as either the national curse or our hope of national salvation (or even the national "racket"), MLQ was a gaint. While he "Ruled" he managed to hold this country under his spell, despite the equally great men who were his rivals, like Don Sergio Osmeña, Sr., who became President after his death, or vehement and courageous opponents like Manuel A. Roxas, who became, when Independence was realized in 1946, the first President of the Philippine Republic.

Quezon was handsome, charismatic, imperious, fiery of temper, egotistical, sometimes selfish, but intensely patriotic and proud of being a Filipino. Yet, he was called Kastila because, indeed, he looked Spanish (his father was a Tisoy), danced a fantastic Tango, and established the Rigodon de Honor as the ceremonial dance of Malacañang Palace.

Even in the mention of the latter hangs a tale. When he was elected President of the Philippine Commonwealth in 1939, he advised the American Governor General to move out of the Palace, because, he said, the President of the Filipinos was going to reside and hold office there.

After being driven into wartime exile in 1942 by the Japanese victory in Bataan and Corregidor, Quezon – dying of tuberculosis – fretted over the prospect of the liberation of this country from Japanese military occupation. It was a race against death. On August 1, 1944, Quezon – abed and coughing his lungs out – rejoiced upon hearing on the radio that US forces had just landed in Dutch New Guinea (Hollandia, now known as Indonesia’s province of Irian Jaya). "Why," Quezon exclaimed in a hoarse whisper, "that is about the same distance from Davao as Davao is from Manila. It won’t be long now!"

Not long afterwards, Quezon himself choked and lapsed into a coma. By 10:05 that morning, he was dead. The place was Lake Saranac. It was only 18 days short of his 66th birthday.

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Quezon’s leadership propelled our nation forward in the fight to win "independence" from the colonial "master", the United States of America. To the Americans, he was a nuisance, an upstart with a sharp tongue who didn’t treat them with proper respect.

Quezon, on the other hand, could also be cunning in his dealings with the American overlords. He knew how to flatter, and .. well, "seduce". I’ve just read, with some surprise admittedly, a new book just off the press (so to speak) about US President Dwight D. Eisenhower, who served as a major in the Philippines for four years as the senior aide to General Douglas McArthur (whom he intensely disliked). The biography, entitled "Eisenhower, A Soldier’s Life" (Henry Holt & Company, New York, 2002) was written by Carlos D’Este, the famous military historian whose earlier biography of General George S. Patton, Jr., named Patton: A Genius for War inspired the 1970 Hollywood movie, "PATTON" (starring George Scott and Karl Malden) which received seven Academy Awards, including Best Picture.

In his latest book, D’Este reveals how Quezon had enticed MacArthur, then just retiring as a Four-Star Major General in the US Army, into coming to the Philippines to organize the Philippine Army. He had offered MacArthur the rank of "Field Marshal"–at MacArthur’s own suggestion. In 1935, therefore, Quezon got the Commonwealth Government to pass a National Defense Act in which one of the provisions permitted the appointment of MacArthur as Field Marshal in the Philippine Army. (Such an "exalted rank", it must not be overlooked, also included the extra pay of US $3,980 per month "making him the highest-paid military officer in the world," D’Este observed on page 238.)

"At an opulent ceremony presided over by Quezon at the Malacañang Palace", the volume says, "MacArthur was formally presented with a gold baton as a symbol of his new position."

The author – who penned this new biography after five years of primary research – reported that "enemies and colleagues alike regard MacArthur’s self-anointed field-marshalship with derision. Eisenhower nearly gagged with disgust, terming the ceremony "rather fantastic’. He thought it ‘pompous and rather ridiculous’ for MacArthur to be the field marshal of a virtually non-existing army."

Ike, the biographer recounts, was so irritated that he himself refused to accept a "promotion" to "Brigadier General" in the Philippine Army.

"Three decades later," D’Este alleges, "Eisenhower had lost none of his indignation over what he believed to be MacArthur’s disloyality to the (American) Army." D’Este quoted Ike as confronting MacArthur with the words: "You have been a four-star general,’ he said. ‘This is a proud thing. There’s only been a few who had it. Why in hell do you want a banana country giving you a field-marshalhip?’ MacArthur not only rejected Eisenhower’s pleas but, ‘Oh, Jesus, he just gave me hell!’"

As for me, I certainly don’t fancy Eisenhower having referred to our country as a banana country. Why, we can’t even sell our bananas to Australia!

Contrary to popular impression, Quezon and MacArthur didn’t get along, and clashed frequently. In fact, the author discloses, "MacArthur’s relations with Quezon deteriorated to the point where the Philippine president would directly solicit Eisenhower’s advice. Eisenhower not only filled the void but, at Quezon’s request, every so often even wrote the president’s speeches. Thus it was Eisenhower and (Major Jimmy) Ord, not MacArthur, to whom Quezon most often turned to for advice."

This paragraph is to be found on page 239.

The author writes on page 308, how just before Ike left for London to assume command of all American forces in Europe, later to become Supreme Commander of all Allied Forces there and plan the Normandy Invasion, he "was briefly reunited" with the exiled Quezon. In Washington, DC that day, "Quezon offered his friend a lavish stipend of some one hundred thousand dollars for services rendered the Philippines during his four years there, which Eisenhower courteously rejected, telling Quezon that… it would likely be viewed unfavorably in Washington."

* * *

Although Quezon has been dead for 58 years, his statements on vital issues and philosophy of governance are amazingly relevant to our times.

Someone – another great who knew him well – sums up what MLQ stood for more eloquently than I can.

In a speech delivered at the Philippine Columbian Club on the occasion of the 75th birthday anniversary of Quezon, Don Claro M. Recto (at the time a senator) described the late President: "Quezon loved power, and he knew how to keep it. But he kept it, like the realist he was, in the only way it can be kept in a democracy, by winning the faith and love of the people. There must be some psychological similarity between love and politics, between women and multitudes, because Quezon was fortunate with both. He had the instinct for the right approach, for the cajoling phrase, for the charming attitude. He knew when to wait, and when to dash for his prize. He knew how to couch his desires in accents seemingly irreproachable and sincere. He knew when to command and when to obey; when to resist, and when to yield; when to begin, and when to stop; when to give the winning embrace and when to deliver the coup de grace."

* * *

What’s interesting, when perusing Don Claro’s posthumous tribute to MLQ, is how pertinent to today’s jockeying for high position in the judiciary are Quezon’s words, uttered in the 1930s.

He detested "lobbying". MLQ had asserted: "Those who sought by themselves, or with political pull, an appointment to the Supreme Court or the new Court of Appeals were, in my view, utterly undesirable for such a post."

Quezon further laid down as one of the criteria for appointment to the Supreme Court: "My test for a Justice of the Supreme Court was not only integrity but his modernity of view. Was he a man capable of interpreting the spirit of the new Constitution as well as the letter of the law? Was he a jurist and not merely legalistic?"

It’s interesting to inquire, in this light, how many of the nine nominees whose names have been just submitted by the Judicial and Bar Council (JBC) are real "jurists" by the standard set by Quezon. How many of them "lobbied" for their nominations with the JBC, and continue feverishly lobbying with the President and her Palace advisers for their appointment to the High Tribunal?

Quezon himself was sanguine about the faults and pettiness of his own countrymen. In a letter written to Teodoro M. Kalaw on June 30, 1913, when he was Resident Commissioner campaigning for Philippine Independence in Washington, DC, a much younger Quezon had complained: "Everytime I learn of the personal attacks against us, whatever we do, my soul drops to my feet… believe me, it is sad, and very sad indeed, this spectacle of a nation bowed low under a foreign yoke, yet still filled with intrigues, gnawed by jealousies, suspicions and rancor. If we really had any sense of patriotism and dignity, a correct notion of our rights, would not independence come to us by itself, and not because the Americans want to give it to us, but because they would perforce have to concede it? My patriotism fades when I see the selfishness in our people."

Those were the days when people poured out their souls and their most intimate thoughts in their letters. These days, they simply e-mail or text.

* * *

Quezon, "the stormy petrel from Baler" (few even recall today what "petrel" means), is best known for the ferocious expression: "I would rather have a government run like hell by Filipinos than a government run like heaven by Americans."

Not many remember that MLQ some years afterwards "explained" and clarified this statement of his. As a guest of honor at the well-known 1939 oratorical contest conducted by the Civil Liberties Union of the Philippines in the Ateneo de Manila auditorium, Quezon was tweaked by one of the student orators, who referred to MLQ’s seemingly intemperate remark. The Quezonian temper flaring, Don Manuel reminded the audience that he had uttered those angry words when he was fighting US Governor-General Leonard Wood "who was undoing every concession former Governor General (Francis Burton) Harrison had given to the Filipinos in the matter of self-government."

Quezon recounted with evident relish how that remark was like the shot at Concord Bridge, "heard found the world." He explained, however, that he had not meant to imply that a government run by Filipinos would necessarily "be like hell". He defied anyone, American, foreigner or Filipino, to tell him that his "present government of the Commonwealth is run like hell."

Citing the 40-year record of the American regime, Quezon asked when the "common tao" (that’s the way the masa was referred to in that era) ever received the protection of the government. Under the Commonwealth, Juan de la Cruz finally found a real "voice" in the government, he roared, whereas under the American regime there used to be a law authorizing the imprisonment of a kasama (tenant) when he left his landlord owing his "boss" money. It was the establishment of the Commonwealth Government which did away with this unjust law.

By the way, Quezon concluded that exciting evening by presenting the medals to the three best student orators, who had been picked by a board of judges composed of Secretary of Justice Jose Abad Santos, Secretary of National Defense Teofilo Sison, and Justice Manuel C. Briones.

The winners were: First Prize – Francisco A. Romualdez of the University of Sto. Tomas for his piece, "Give Us This Day Our Daily Bread." The Second Prize went to Raul S. Manglapus of the Ateneo, whose oration was entitled: "Land of Bondage; Land of Free." The Third Prize was awarded to Ms. Josefina Rodil Phodaca of the University of Manila, who delivered a piece called "Righteous Indignation."

As you know, Romualdez was the elder brother of Imelda Romualdez Marcos. The late Raul Manglapus became a guerrilla leader during the war, a Senator of the Republic, and Secretary of Foreign Affairs.

As for the chairman of the board of judges, he became a martyr for freedom. Jose Abad Santos was executed by the Japanese in Mindanao for refusing to collaborate with them.

Quezon Day reminds us poignantly of the way we were – and what we can be again.