Rizal at 144

Yesterday would have been Jose Rizal’s 144th birthday.

But he died young. Coming from a family of ardent Rizalistas, I’ll have to admit that Rizal disagreed with the Revolution, his two burning novels of protest, the Noli and the Fili had done much to inspire and provoke. Gat Andres Bonifacio, the founder of the Katipunan, was disappointed when the delegates he sent to Rizal’s place of exile in Dapitan to beg him to lead the Revolution came back with a "no." Emilio Aguinaldo of the Katipunan was also disappointed.

Indeed, on December 15, 1892, Rizal had even issued a manifesto to his fellow Filipinos repudiating the Revolution. "On my return from Spain I learned that my name was being used as a war cry by those among you in arms against Spain… From the very beginning, when I first had knowledge of what was being planned, I was in opposition to it, I fought the idea and demonstrated its absolute impossibility… I was convinced that the scheme was utterly absurd and, what was worse, would bring nothing but suffering."

"I have given proofs how anxious I am for liberties for our country, and I am no less anxious for them now. But I posit as a prior condition the education of the people. Only through instruction and study may our country deserve those liberties… Holding this, I cannot do less than condemn, and I do condemn, the present uprising as foolish, savage, and against my wish… I have only pity for those who have allowed themselves to be taken in by the false hopes it aroused. Return, then, to your homes. You cannot win. God forgive those who have acted in bad faith."

The fatal mistake was made by the Spaniards. They arrested Rizal and accused him of having fomented the Revolution. In a quick trial, he was condemned to death. At 7 o’clock in the morning of December 30, he was shot by a firing squad on the field of Bagumbayan (in the Luneta).

Rizal’s death further strengthened and made widespread the Revolution he had spurned. Everyone of us whose grandfathers or great-grandfathers were proud Katipuneros and Revolucionarios knows this well.

Rizal went to his death calmly. This time he didn’t recant. A military physician asked to feel Rizal’s pulse before the denouement.

He expressed both surprise and admiration when he found it normal.

"Comrade," the doctor exclaimed. "You have it well. You have it very well!"

It is timely to remember what kind of man Rizal was – in contrast to those his words had inspired but whose actions he had repudiated: Andres Bonifacio, and the man who ousted Bonifacio to finally take over "control" of the Revolution, Gen. Emilio Aguinaldo.

* * *

Bonifacio, too, was one of our family heroes, but he was altogether different from the scholarly, pensive Rizal. Bonifacio, a bodegero from Tondo, is constantly called The Great Plebeian, but he was no common man, although he is glorified as representing the masa. Bonifacio read books, not only about revolutions in France and elsewhere in Europe, but the essays of philosophers. He had the charisma to induce men to go forth to fight Spanish rifles and cannon, armed only with bolos and bamboo spears. Yet, owing to political naivete, he ventured into the province of his rival, Cavite where he was seized, tried by a kangaroo court, and "executed" by Aguinaldo, who was "smarter" and came from the provincial middle class.

The misconception among many is that Rizal was a dreamer while Bonifacio, who formed the secret society, Katipunan, was a realist. On the contrary, it was Rizal who was the realist. He believed the Filipino, without education, was not ready for liberty; in truth, that he could not make freedom work without first being educated. In one oft-quoted exclamation, he declared: Liberty? Why liberty – when the slaves of today will only be the tyrants of tomorrow?

Bonifacio, on the other hand, was the dreamer – and the romantic. He believed that the Filipino could do anything. In the end, this romantic streak betrayed him and proved his downfall. He thought that the Caviteños – in a clash between the Magdiwang and the Magdalo factions of the Katipunan – would support him, buoyed up by the spirit of nationalism. He went to Cavite for the showdown with their hometown boy, Aguinaldo. Hometown politics proved invincible. Cavitismo prevailed. Bonifacio was captured in a raid on his camp, his brother killed. Subsequently, "convicted" of treason, would you believe, he was shot to death on a hilltop named Susong Dalaga.

There is not very much written about Gat Andres, yet the sculptor Tolentino did for him what mountains of biographies and volumes of praise could never do. That genius depicted Bonifacio, with pistol and bolo, standing bravely on his pedestal, his sad gaze fixed on eternity. We call this landmark the Balintawak monument, now known to every commuter, particularly jeepney, bus, and taxicab passengers, as Monumento. It’s a stop on the LRT. Passing pedestrians give it barely a glance. How truly Filipino this phenomenon is: our nation’s finest monument, lost in traffic, in the rush hour, and in pollution.

Yet, as a little boy, Ka Andres’ noble face was imprinted on my memory. It is appropriate to recall this fact owing to yesterday’s celebration, too, of Father’s Day. My Papa used to drive me out to Caloocan, just to "visit" Bonifacio’s monument – behind which were also the sculptures of those priest-martyrs, Fathers Gomez, Burgos and Zamora, put to death by the garote. The first time, I was only four. I stepped into a deep hole, and found myself almost up to my knees in mud. I started to blubber in anger, surprise, and discomfort. But my father snapped: "Son, never mind the hole. Never mind your discomfort! – Look up at our hero, Andres Bonifacio. He suffered and fought – he sacrificed everything for our country!"

Every year, until my father died, we made that pilgrimage to the Bonifacio monument. What I never forgot was his injunction, which, in my childish mind, had originally come out (as I recounted it to Mama when we got home that first night), as "bebber mind da hole." Everytime I faced difficulty, or danger, or challenge, years later, that expression came to mind: Never mind the hole! We Filipino males are, in macho-fashion, Mama’s boys. Yet, what dad teaches us, if he’s the right kind of father, is what defines the path of our lives.

We never forgave Aguinaldo for having killed Bonifacio. Yet, in retrospect, Bonifacio would have bungled the Revolution had he lived to continue being its leader. He was the worst military tactician you could ever imagine. Remember, he was a dreamer – and dreamers don’t win battles. Napoleon Bonaparte, the great Emperor of France who conquered Europe, always said he preferred "lucky" generals to brilliant ones. Aguinaldo was such a lucky general. He won battles, he licked the Spaniards, he made the Americans pay heavily in terms of blood and hardship – and dollars – for having invaded us. Originally naive in trusting the Americans, when Commodore Dewey claimed they had come to help us (General Antonio Luna raged against this), Aguinaldo, realizing his error, fought such a punishing and relentless guerrilla war that more Americans died in the Philippines than have, thus far, died in Iraq. We lost in the end.

Why had Aguinaldo bested Bonifacio in that fatal confrontation? Probably because he was a politician – and politicians always win.

It seems funny to write this sort of column when so many are convulsed in furious debate about the "Hello Garci" tapes, and the frenzied moves to oust GMA – a prospect which, I say again, isn’t likely to succeed. Yet, if we don’t learn from our past, we won’t be able to cope with the present, or chart our future.

In a sense, all three of our confusing heroes were right. Rizal rightly said we could not succeed without "education." Bonifacio believed in the Filipino – and made the Revolution happen. Aguinaldo almost made it succeed, by wheeling and dealing, then by guerrilla war.

Perhaps there’s nothing new under the sun. But maybe it’s time for us to combine the traits of all three, to "create" a New Filipino.