The role of organized religion and broader ideas faith in the Filipino struggle for independence in the 19th century has been understudied. Philippine born priests, such as Pedro Pelaez and Jose Burgos, were among the most visible in the fight to secularize the Church and the dissemination of Enlightenment ideals. They demanded equal representation within the Church hierarchy for Philippine-born priests. That fight influenced, and in some ways gave birth, to the broader war for independence and sovereignty of all Filipinos. Faith, in some form or another, informed the war against Spain. Initially, faith and religion were even the vehicles through which ideas of equality were expressed. And what we have failed to understand is the difference between friars and secular priests. For the revolutionaries, and Filipinos at large, there was a huge difference. Secularism represented advancement and equality. Friar orders represented oppression and a by-gone, outmoded, way of life.
Faith then played an integral role in our wars for independence; against the Spanish and even the Americans. In the case of Jose Rizal, there became almost a humorous juxtaposition between his well-stated antipathy towards the extant frailocracy in the country and his adoption by ‘peasant’ or ‘folk’ culture as a Christ-figure. The rise of the ‘cults of Rizal’, and their central role as vehicles for rural resistance to American aggression, in the early 20th century also offers up an intriguing question: Why then did the peasant-folk re-figure Rizal as redeemer? Why him, and not someone like Bonifacio, whom we have all been told was truly loved by the ‘masa’, unlike the irredeemably reformist Rizal? To be blunt, part of it is because Rizal was far from a only reformist. The other is quite simple, Rizal’s words and ideas, his image and later death, were the backbone upon which revolutionary ideas and organizations were built. He, like his words, were translated into forms that were understandable for the ‘folk.’ He became their hero and savior.
The fact that Rizal became a cult figure also casts doubt on the prevailing narrative that he was wholly an American heroic construct. The truth is, the adoration of Rizal predates American hegemony. It is more accurate instead to say that the US saw the power and influence of Rizal and attempted to subvert it, to blunt it, and deploy it for their own needs. They were successful. Witness our gross misunderstanding of him and his importance today. We are so divorced from our national hero that we spend more time fixated on the footnotes of his life than understanding his writings and hopes for the country. And we even go so far as to manufacture trivia in misguided attempts to make him even more heroic and demi-godish. As if his words, deeds and ideas are not enough. To be the pride of the Malay race, he has to be a successful playboy with such god-given gifts that he retained languages, invented technologies and acquired skills at a pace likely unrivaled in world history. That says something about us, this completely superficial understanding of him. And our need to deploy Rizal the figure, not his ideas, for personal agendas and political expediency. In some ways, it seems that our modern day ideas can’t stand on their own, unless they are somehow parroted by the figure of Rizal. We don’t derive inspiration from his ideas. We just abuse his image and name.
The importance of Rizal as a central figure in folk resistance to the United States is little remarked. As a matter of fact, only a few primary sources even touch on how Rizal Day, and Rizal, was viewed in the early 1900s.
“…the puzzling anomaly is that they fought, and are still fighting the Americans tooth and nail to get their own liberty, their own way, but they are not asked what they think at all, and if they show signs of wanting to get rid of this American burden and govern themselves in their own fashion, they are called Insurgents and knocked on the head, or dubbed common robbers and strung up to a tree.
On account of this state of affairs, the natives seize on this anniversary to give relief to some of their patriotic emotions…”
-Mrs. Campbell Dauncey 31 Dec. 1904. Iloilo (Quibuyen, A Nation Aborted)
While the overall tenor of the letter is derogatory towards Filipinos, the key importance is that a foreigner (neither Filipino or American) notes how central Rizal Day is as a vehicle for expressing patriotism. Note as well, this is in 1904. Rizal is still remembered and honored.
Another American journalist, Katherine Mayo in 1925, also relays:
“On December 31st - Rizal Day - 1923, Zamboanga town, obedient to Manila’s orders, held a parade - a demonstration with banners, aimed against subservience to America, against General Wood, and in special against segregation of the Moro country as a United States Territory, which idea is cherished by Moro hearts.” (Quibuyen, A Nation Aborted).
Well look at that, twenty years later in Zamboanga Rizal is honored and his memory still retains its revolutionary potency.
These two examples are on a more formalized, socially mainstream, footing. Rizalista cults were quite common in the years after his death; and they still remain today. For these cults, the passing of Rizal was crouched in Christ-like and Arthurian overtones. Even hearkening back to the Tagalog-centric Bernardo Carpio myth. Millennial leaders would appear, claiming they were the reincarnations of Rizal come to lead the Philippines into a new age of prosperity or his prophet. The way that folk traditions adopted Rizal indicates just how important his name and memory was in the 19th century. We see how key his actions and deeds were in creating the idea of a revolutionary Philippines.
Today, we have something akin to a nation-wide cult of Rizal. As I mentioned previously, we do not deploy his ideas and writings in public discourse. Instead we utilize his image, we attribute modern day political positions to him, in the name of propaganda. It is, in some ways, a misguided veneration without understanding. Like Constantino’s bleatings, we have completely allowed colonial interpretations of Rizal to color our understanding of him. Yet again, our folk traditions help us understand how far afield we have gone. No high-brow reformist would have been held in such high-regard by ilustrados and ‘peasant’ alike.
A wise woman once told me that each generation must interprete heroes and history. That’s the role of each new generations cultural and historical literati: To give importance to the past, to make it resonate. Makes me shudder to think what the current presentation of Jose Rizal as some sort of linguistically talented womanizing reformist with a genius for everything imaginable (and somethings we haven’t discovered yet) means about us. Is that what our heroes have to be to resonate today? Demi-gods who strode the land, sending women swooning where they stand and mastering all skills at the blink of an eye.
I have remarked in passing that, if anything, the lengths we have gone to manufacture the legend of Rizal, betrays some sort of desire for ego-stroking. We play up the footnotes in his life because we need it to feel good about ourselves. And maybe because it is just too much work to understand, to connect and engage with him, on his intellectual terms. The footnotes and details should help flesh out our understanding of Rizal. They should not, they should never, be the only thing we understand about him. If heroes reflect modern day society, then what exactly does Rizal as we know him say about us?
Once upon a time, Rizal was honored by almost every strata of Philippine society as a trailblazing, passionate revolutionary who dreamed of a new future for his country. His example, his philosophies and ideas were not sacrosanct, but they were sources of inspiration and strength. They helped buoy armed and intellectual resistance to foreign aggression and domination. Somewhere along the way, we lost that. We lost our understanding of his works and his deeds.
As my friend said, it is up to each new generation to reinterpret history. I wonder if our understanding of Rizal, of the Revolution, our Pantheon of Heroes, and our history will change. I wonder if they will become touchstones for national development. Or if their importance will remain footnotes and the trivialities continue to reign supreme.
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