At least from the time Spain sold our country to America for an amount much smaller than the cost of the aborted ZTE deal, doubts have lingered if our sense of nationhood would ever show up. We seem like a race pretending to be a nation. And our problem, I suppose—and as pointed out countless of times before—is culture. Some say it is damaged. Others may say there is just not enough “glue” to bind us as a people.
What was it that justified Andres Bonifacio’s death at the hands of his fellow Filipinos? If we assume that his execution was legal, then I suspect that our laws have not worked in ways that inspire national unity.
What drove us to sign parity and all kinds of agreements with the US then? Because we wanted economic progress. At least that was how our leaders told—and continue to tell—us. Why are we tying ourselves up with China, among other countries, in our attempt to exploit the Spratlys now? The reason may well be same as above.
Years after we signed deals with other countries, and after putting in billions upon billions of pesos of public funds through national and local budgetary appropriations, along with billions more from loans and grants, we see what economic progress means. More and more families in the past few years have earned incomes below the poverty line; a line set so low that wags wonder if it has something to do with our height. An October 28, 2007 Philippine Daily Inquirer report says in part: “The share of the poorest 30 percent of the country’s families in 2006 accounted for only 8.6 percent of the country’s total income, while the top 10 percent accounted for almost 36 percent … the combined wealth of the 40 richest Filipinos according to Forbes Asia is P773.5 billion, which is equal to the total incomes of nearly 60 percent of Filipino families, or almost 52 million (out of 86 million) Filipinos.”
What I am trying to say is this: we lack a determined and relentless drive to propel our country forward on the path of justice and equity. Our government is driven not by strategic development needs in the context of what we see our nation to become in the next hundred years. It is driven by what compels us today until the next elections. It does not draw its power from representation; ours is a dysfunctional republic. It does not represent the people. It represents but a few interest groups in the land.
America was right. We Filipinos are not capable of governing ourselves by genuine democratic rules. On January 9, 1900, Senator Albert Beveridge boomed on the floor of the US Senate to defend the Treaty of Paris ending, among other things, the Spanish-American War. He also argued against granting us our independence; instead he urged America to colonize the Philippines.
Part of the Beveridge speech said: “… in all solid and useful education (Filipinos are) dull and stupid. In showy things … they have apparent aptitude …. In their stupidity (they) are like their carabao bulls… we must never forget that in dealing with the Filipinos we deal with children.” America went Beveridge’s way and ruled us until nobody knew when.
We are dull, stupid and poor organizers because our culture tolerates it. We thrive on being clowns because that is how we cope with the travails of life. Are we not among the happiest races in this planet? We idolize entertainers more than we hail scientists. Our culture sees individuals as members of the clan—or gang—more than they constitute a community that requires serious organizing. We have no need for visual expansion. In my limited view, two things stunt our cultural activism. One, our faith in the gang frees us from worries of this world and inhibits our concern for others. Two, our faith in the resurrecting power of the Sacrament of Penance frees us from worries of the next world; it suggests that we may defile ourselves mortally and as often as we please.
Unfortunately, that same retarded culture has sanctioned the death of Bonifacio. And it is the same culture that allows our students to disappear in the night. That same culture has, in the name of economic progress, pushed our government to strike deals with governments that satisfy the needs of a few more than they address the needs of the many. That same culture has debased public institutions and made public policy captive at the hands of powerful gangs. It is the same culture that whets immoderate greed and breeds unrestrained corruption.
We reached this point because we lack the kind of moral fitness that can allow our value systems to regroup. Where have our teachers gone? The traditional guardians of society’s morality are themselves hardly inspiring. The catholic bishops, for example, denounce gambling in all its forms. But they accept Pagcor and PCSO funds to help the poor. They are masters of rationalization. They make it easy for us lesser mortals to steal public money now and give to charity later; they make thieves look good. They are quite a sight—church, government, thieves—in a unity walk against poverty! They also preach and practice freedom. Many priests, for example, freely take liberties to break their vows.
Over at the palace, the President dishonored the words she ejaculated on the day she honored our national hero. She desecrated the electoral process by ringing an election officer at the time rigging of votes was alleged to have taken place. When her supporters explained she did nothing wrong with that “hello,” people wondered what she was sorry for. She admitted that something smelled wrong with the ZTE deal (this time not in front of TV cameras, the better, perhaps, to conceal her acting), but accorded it her official approval anyway. Far from being a creation of political noise as Malacanang says they are, these are facts made known by what the President herself said. The truth stares us in the face and the bishops urge us to seek it.
In my confusion I can only imagine the bishops may want na makuha naman kayo sa tingin. Why would we expect a President to keep her constitutional covenant with the people when our pastors blithely violate their sacred vows? Indeed, who does not sin? The only difference is some sin against private grace while others sin against public weal and accountability. One answers oneself, the other answers the taxpaying public.
Perhaps the question is not for how long we can endure a President who prostitutes her word, her office and the people she theoretically represents. Maybe the question is how wretched we can be to see the standards drop just to accommodate her moral shortage. Being called unworthy is one thing. Losing all moral balance is another. One is about lack of something; the other is about lack of everything.
Beveridge’s point slams it home: like children, we entertain ourselves even if it is time to be serious. We break our vows, say sorry, but do not feel the need to resign.
Showing posts with label History and Culture. Show all posts
Showing posts with label History and Culture. Show all posts
Thursday, October 2, 2008
Balangiga in Philippine-American-Spanish War History
More than a hundred years ago, a bloody encounter between small-town residents (mostly farmers) and American troops erupted in Balangiga, Eastern Samar that shook America’s war rooms and exposed its imperialist designs. The incident may have been dismissed by both American and Philippine authorities as a forgettable footnote of Philippine-American war history, but it continues to resonate with unresolved issues until today.
At dawn of September 28, 1901, the bells of Balangiga rang like they never did before. It turned out to be the signal for hundreds of bolo-wielding Balangigan-ons to attack the barracks of Company C, an elite group of the United States Army that, months earlier, appropriated for itself a military base in that town. Forty-eight of the 74 American soldiers present died as a result of the assault, while 28 native combatants perished. Up to that time, not a single band of the US Army has suffered as much number of casualties anywhere as it did in Balangiga.
The hierarchy of US armed forces raged at knowing about the carnage, one that the Americans would eventually call “massacre.” None of their generals must have thought that such an atrocity—a “terrorist act” in present-day language—could have happened with their own men at the receiving end. For a country edging to become the world’s new military superpower, the incident has, for a moment, shaken its military headquarters. Reprisal had to follow. Out for revenge, the American forces condemned Balangiga and practically all of Samar Island into a “howling wilderness,” razing houses and properties to the ground, and killing and maiming people—including women and children. The sweeping condemnation has been recorded as responsible for the death and disappearance of thousands of Samareños.
In victory the Americans left Balangiga with three of the church bells in tow. Two of the bells would eventually end up on display in Wyoming and one was left in a US military base in Korea. For years, individuals and groups (mostly from the Philippines) have petitioned the US for the return of the bells to Balangiga. But up to this day the bells remain in American possession, prompting some quarters to say in exasperation that the Philippine-American war has yet to end.
Balangiga in the context of Philippine-American-Spanish war
Spain was a global colonial power until at least at the closing years of the 19th century. Its colonies included Cuba and the Philippines. Cuba revolted against Spain in 1995 and the Philippines, through its katipuneros, did the same at about the same time. While all these things unfolded, the US has expressed its sympathy for the independence dream among colonized countries, and in particular for Cuba. The US in effect put itself at odds with the colonial interests of Spain.
Something dramatic happened in February 1898 when the US battleship Maine exploded and capsized in Cuba, claiming the lives of 250 American soldiers. America charged that Spain was responsible for the attack. In the same way that the September 11 attack pushed the US to pulverize Irag a hundred years later, American declared war against Spain. Armed hostilities broke out in Cuba in April 1898 and in Manila Bay in May 1898.
General Emilio Aguinaldo, who succeeded Andres Bonifacio as chief katipunero after a contentious political bickering that led to the latter’s own execution, had earlier agreed with Spain to go on exile in exchange of Spain’s carrying out political reforms in the Philippines. On the prodding of America, Aguinaldo in June 1898 returned to the country from his exile in Hongkong, convinced that America was helping the Philippines gain independence from Spain. He declared Philippine independence on June 12 of that year, but America did not recognize it.
Leaving the Filipinos out of their schemes, America and Spain plotted a mock battle in Manila Bay in August 1898, after which formalities sealed Spain’s surrender to America. Four months later the Treaty of Paris would be signed, with Spain formally ceding the Philippines to the US, and selling it for 20 million dollars.
The Philippine-American war followed, which ended in March 1901 with Aguinaldo’r arrest and eventual surrender. Nevertheless, pockets of rebellion would erupt from time to time after that, prompting America to implement a “pacification program” throughout the country. In July 1901 the US Army sent the Company C—widely recognized for its successful campaigns in earlier battles—to Balangiga to pacify Samar Island.
The people of Balangiga and the Americans co-existed harmoniously. But the Filipinos would eventually resent the latter’s presence. They complained of abuses being committed against them, particularly against the women. The resentment would reach a point where the bells in Balangiga would reverberate on that fateful morning of September 28.
What happened in Balangiga exposed America’s desires. Apart from helping Cuba and the Philippines gain their independence from Spain, the US in reality flexed its muscle as an emerging imperial power. America was (and is) willing to kill and to risk the lives of its own soldiers, all in the name of manifest destiny.
Defending the Treaty of Paris on the floor of the US Senate on January 1900, Senator Albert Beveridge said: “God … has made us the master organizers of the world … He has given us the spirit of progress to overwhelm the forces of reaction throughout the earth. He has made us adepts in government that we may administer government among savage and senile peoples… This is the divine mission of America, and it holds for us all the profit …”
At dawn of September 28, 1901, the bells of Balangiga rang like they never did before. It turned out to be the signal for hundreds of bolo-wielding Balangigan-ons to attack the barracks of Company C, an elite group of the United States Army that, months earlier, appropriated for itself a military base in that town. Forty-eight of the 74 American soldiers present died as a result of the assault, while 28 native combatants perished. Up to that time, not a single band of the US Army has suffered as much number of casualties anywhere as it did in Balangiga.
The hierarchy of US armed forces raged at knowing about the carnage, one that the Americans would eventually call “massacre.” None of their generals must have thought that such an atrocity—a “terrorist act” in present-day language—could have happened with their own men at the receiving end. For a country edging to become the world’s new military superpower, the incident has, for a moment, shaken its military headquarters. Reprisal had to follow. Out for revenge, the American forces condemned Balangiga and practically all of Samar Island into a “howling wilderness,” razing houses and properties to the ground, and killing and maiming people—including women and children. The sweeping condemnation has been recorded as responsible for the death and disappearance of thousands of Samareños.
In victory the Americans left Balangiga with three of the church bells in tow. Two of the bells would eventually end up on display in Wyoming and one was left in a US military base in Korea. For years, individuals and groups (mostly from the Philippines) have petitioned the US for the return of the bells to Balangiga. But up to this day the bells remain in American possession, prompting some quarters to say in exasperation that the Philippine-American war has yet to end.
Balangiga in the context of Philippine-American-Spanish war
Spain was a global colonial power until at least at the closing years of the 19th century. Its colonies included Cuba and the Philippines. Cuba revolted against Spain in 1995 and the Philippines, through its katipuneros, did the same at about the same time. While all these things unfolded, the US has expressed its sympathy for the independence dream among colonized countries, and in particular for Cuba. The US in effect put itself at odds with the colonial interests of Spain.
Something dramatic happened in February 1898 when the US battleship Maine exploded and capsized in Cuba, claiming the lives of 250 American soldiers. America charged that Spain was responsible for the attack. In the same way that the September 11 attack pushed the US to pulverize Irag a hundred years later, American declared war against Spain. Armed hostilities broke out in Cuba in April 1898 and in Manila Bay in May 1898.
General Emilio Aguinaldo, who succeeded Andres Bonifacio as chief katipunero after a contentious political bickering that led to the latter’s own execution, had earlier agreed with Spain to go on exile in exchange of Spain’s carrying out political reforms in the Philippines. On the prodding of America, Aguinaldo in June 1898 returned to the country from his exile in Hongkong, convinced that America was helping the Philippines gain independence from Spain. He declared Philippine independence on June 12 of that year, but America did not recognize it.
Leaving the Filipinos out of their schemes, America and Spain plotted a mock battle in Manila Bay in August 1898, after which formalities sealed Spain’s surrender to America. Four months later the Treaty of Paris would be signed, with Spain formally ceding the Philippines to the US, and selling it for 20 million dollars.
The Philippine-American war followed, which ended in March 1901 with Aguinaldo’r arrest and eventual surrender. Nevertheless, pockets of rebellion would erupt from time to time after that, prompting America to implement a “pacification program” throughout the country. In July 1901 the US Army sent the Company C—widely recognized for its successful campaigns in earlier battles—to Balangiga to pacify Samar Island.
The people of Balangiga and the Americans co-existed harmoniously. But the Filipinos would eventually resent the latter’s presence. They complained of abuses being committed against them, particularly against the women. The resentment would reach a point where the bells in Balangiga would reverberate on that fateful morning of September 28.
What happened in Balangiga exposed America’s desires. Apart from helping Cuba and the Philippines gain their independence from Spain, the US in reality flexed its muscle as an emerging imperial power. America was (and is) willing to kill and to risk the lives of its own soldiers, all in the name of manifest destiny.
Defending the Treaty of Paris on the floor of the US Senate on January 1900, Senator Albert Beveridge said: “God … has made us the master organizers of the world … He has given us the spirit of progress to overwhelm the forces of reaction throughout the earth. He has made us adepts in government that we may administer government among savage and senile peoples… This is the divine mission of America, and it holds for us all the profit …”
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