Why Fighting Corruption is not Enough

Afterthoughts

By Walden Bello
INQUIRER.net
First Posted 05:02:00 03/22/2010

After nine years of witnessing increasing poverty among the masses and spiraling corruption in high places, it is understandable that Filipinos see a strong correlation between corruption and poverty. And the judgment of many is probably correct that the candidates that are free of the taint of corruption stand the best chance of turning this country around. Moral leadership may not be a sufficient condition for successful leadership but it certainly has become a necessary condition in a country that has been so deprived of exemplary public figures like the Philippines.

Corruption, however, has become the explanation for all our ills, and this brings with it the danger that, after the elections, campaign rhetoric might substitute for hard analysis on the causes of poverty, leading to wrong, ineffectual prescriptions for dealing with the country’s number one problem.

Let me be more explicit: Corruption must be condemned and corrupt officials must be prosecuted because being a violation of public trust, corruption undermines faith in government and leads to an erosion of the moral bonds among citizens that serve as the foundation of good governance. Corruption, however, is unlikely to be the main cause of poverty. Wrongheaded policies are, and clean-cut technocrats have been responsible for more poverty than corrupt politicians.

The complex of policies that have pushed the Philippines into the economic quagmire over the last 30 years might be summed up in that formidable term: structural adjustment. Also known as neoliberal restructuring, it involved prioritization of debt repayment; conservative macroeconomic management that involving huge cutbacks in government spending; trade and financial liberalization; privatization and deregulation; and export-oriented production. Structural adjustment came to the Philippines courtesy of the World Bank, International Monetary Fund, and the World Trade Organization, but it was internalized and disseminated as doctrine by local technocrats and economists as doctrine.

Prioritizing Debt Repayment

Corazon Aquino was personally honest and her contribution to the reestablishment of democracy was indispensable, but her submitting to the International Monetary Fund's demand to prioritize debt repayment over development brought about a decade of stagnation and continuing poverty. Interest payments as a percentage of total government expenditures went from 7 percent in 1980 to 28 percent in 1994. Capital expenditures, on the other hand, plunged from 26 percent to 16 percent. Since government is the biggest investor in the Philippines—indeed in any economy—the radical stripping away of capital expenditures goes a long way toward explaining the stagnant one percent average yearly growth in gross domestic product in the 1980’s and the 2.3 per cent rate in the first half of the 1990’s.

In contrast, our Southeast Asian neighbors ignored the IMF’s prescriptions. They limited debt servicing while ramping up government capital expenditures in support of growth. Not surprisingly, they grew by 6 to 10 percent from 1985 to 1995, attracting massive Japanese investment while the Philippines barely grew and gained the reputation of a depressed market that repelled investors.

Trade and Financial Liberalization

When Fidel Ramos came to power in 1992, the main agenda of his technocrats was to bring down all tariffs to 0 to 5 percent and bring the Philippines into the World Trade Organization and the ASEAN Free Trade Area (AFTA), moves that were intended to make trade liberalization irreversible. A pick-up in the growth rate in the early years of Ramos sparked hope, but the green shoots were more apparent than real, and they were, at any rate, crushed as a result of another neoliberal policy: financial liberalization. The elimination of foreign exchange controls and restrictions of speculative investment attracted billions of dollars in the period 1993-1997. But this also meant that when panic hit the ranks of foreign investors in Asia in the summer of 1997, the same lack of capital controls facilitated the stampede of billions of dollars from the country in a few short weeks in mid-1997. This pushed the economy into recession and stagnation in the next few years.

The Estrada administration did not reverse course, and under the presidency of President Gloria Macapagal-Arroyo, neoliberal policies continued to reign. New liberalization initiatives in the next few years were initiated on the trade front, with the government negotiating free trade agreements with Japan and China. These pacts were entered into despite clear evidence that trade liberalization was destroying the two pillars of the economy, industry and agriculture.

Radical unilateral trade liberalization severely destabilized our manufacturing sector, with textile and garments firms, for instance, being drastically reduced from 200 in 1970 to 10 in recent years. As one of Arroyo’s finance secretaries admitted, “there’s an uneven implementation of trade liberalization, which was to our disadvantage.” While he speculated that consumers might have benefited from the tariff liberalization, he acknowledged that “it has killed so many local industries.”

As for agriculture, the liberalization of our agricultural trade after we joined the World Trade Organization in 1995 transformed the Philippines from a net food exporting country and consolidated it into a net food importing country after the mid-1990’s. The year 2010 is the year that the China ASEAN Trade Agreement (CAFTA) negotiated by the Arroyo administration goes into effect, and the prospect of cheap Chinese produce flooding our markets has made our vegetable farmers fatalistic about their survival.

Depressive Fiscal Policy

What likewise became clear during the long Arroyo reign were the stifling effects of the debt repayment-oriented macroeconomic management policy that came with structural adjustment. With 20-25 percent of the national budget reserved for debt service payments owing to the draconian Automatic Appropriations Law, government finances were in a state of permanent and widening deficit, which the administration tried to solve by contracting more loans. Indeed, the Arroyo administration contracted more loans than the previous three administrations combined.

When the deficit reached gargantuan proportions, the government refused to take the necessary steps to contain the key factor acting as the main drain on expenditures; that is, it refused to declare a debt moratorium or at least renegotiate the terms of debt repayment to make them less punitive. At the same time, the administration did not have the political will to force the rich to take the brunt of bridging the deficit by increasing taxes on their income and improving their collection. Under pressure from the IMF, the government levied this burden on the poor and the middle class via the adoption of the expanded value added tax (EVAT) of 12 percent on purchases. The tax was passed on to poor and middle class consumers by commercial establishments, forcing them to cut back on consumption, which then boomeranged back on small merchants and entrepreneurs in the form of reduced profits, forcing many out of business.

Facing the Policy Challenge

The straitjacket of conservative macroeconomic management, trade and financial liberalization, and a subservient debt policy kept the economy from expanding significantly, resulting in the percentage of the population living in poverty, according to the World Bank, increasing from 30 to 33 percent between 2003 and 2006. By 2006, there were more poor people in the Philippines than at any other time in the country’s history.

The country’s plight under the lash of wrong policies over the last four administrations becomes even clearer in a comparative perspective. According to the United Nations Development Program Human Development Report, the Philippines registered the second lowest average yearly growth rate, 1.6 percent, in Southeast Asia in the period 1990 to 2005 —lower than that of Vietnam (5.9 percent), Cambodia (5.5 percent), and Burma (6.6 percent). The only country registering average growth below that of the Philippines was Brunei, which, being an oil-rich high-income country, could afford not to grow.

So yes, we must wage an unrelenting campaign against corruption because it destroys faith in government and weakens the moral fiber of the country. And yes, let us by all means punish corrupt officials and elect morally unquestionable people to power. But let us not mistake corruption as the principal cause of poverty and believe that anti-corruption crusades provide the main response to the country’s economic ills. The main source of our lack of economic dynamics is a wrong policy paradigm that we have allowed ourselves to be straitjacketed into.

It is disturbing that the policy errors that have led to our present state are hardly mentioned in the presidential debates. It is unfortunate that we are not taking advantage of the current international economic crisis that has dragged down our local economy to debate the wisdom of the policies of globalization and liberalization that have brought us to this impasse. Yes, the issues of corruption, management experience, and bureaucratic reform that dominate these debates are vital, but unless the winning team has the courage to reverse 30 years of failed neoliberal economic policies, the country will remain in the economic doldrums, unable to take off, with poverty possibly rising to the point of no return.

*The columnist is representative of the party-list Akbayan in the House of Representatives. He can be contacted at waldenbello@yahoo.com

Philippine Democracy: Alive, but is it well?

Afterthoughts

By Walden Bello
INQUIRER.net http://www.waldenbello.org/
First Posted 03:47:00 05/11/2010

The 2010 campaign has drawn to a close, and it’s time to distill my experiences after registering hundreds of miles by land, sea, and air crisscrossing the country as a party-list candidate.

On the purely physical side, my shaking thousands of hands—I estimated some 3,500 in one two-hour period in the public market in Angeles, Pampanga—has apparently given my right arm a life of its own, like that of Dr. Strangelove or one of Jim Carrey’s characters. It twitches uncontrollably when not in action, as if waiting impatiently to be fed.

There is no doubt in my mind that Philippine democracy is alive. Everywhere I went, there was intense interest in the candidates, particularly the presidential candidates, with many pausing from their labors to inquire which presidential nominee I favored and what program my party Akbayan had to offer. Everywhere the courtship of the voter was intense. Gone are the days when the “command vote” for a candidate could be considered sufficient to deliver victory. Except in the remotest places, the “market vote” has increased in both size and decisiveness. The market vote is no statistical abstraction for candidates: In almost every municipality and city, it has become de rigueur for candidates to present and sell themselves in the public market, trying to shake every hand within reach, even the wet hands of fish and meat vendors embarrassed to extend them.

Most of the time, the cynics say, the people are at the mercy of the politicians. Maybe, but for at least three months every three years, the politicians are at the mercy of the voters.

Philippine democracy is alive, but is it well?

It is difficult to answer in the affirmative. The reason for this goes beyond the fact that come election day, scores will have been gunned down and huge sums will have been passed out to buy votes.

What worries me, more than the violence and the vote-buying, of which we will always have a good dosage of, is the skyrocketing cost of elections. P9 billion is now said to be a conservative estimate for a presidential run, and P1.1 billion for somebody running for the Senate is said to be a low figure. For a candidate for Congress, P450 million is definitely on the low side. Most of these sums are spent on media outreach, particularly television. One is tempted to say the media is king. It might be more appropriate to say that the market is king, since it is the demand for advertising space, in a system where there are few legal constraints on electoral spending on media exposure, that raises its price many times over in the course of the 12-week election period.

The need to raise enormous sums to have some impact on an expanding electorate has, of course, naturally strengthened the influence of the rich and those organizations favored by the rich over the electoral system. In this respect, Philippine electoral democracy is a spitting image of its parent, American democracy. In both, the influence of moneyed elites in shaping electoral outcomes is enormous. Candidates fit themselves to the interests of the rich and powerful when they do not themselves come from the ranks of the rich and powerful. In a very real sense, in both countries, elections function not so much as a means through which people choose their leaders but a mechanism whereby rival factions of the elite compete for possession of the state apparatus.

The Political Class on a Treadmill

There is a strong correlation between wealth and political power, but it is not perfect. There is a distinct political class, and in this campaign I truly learned the meaning of the saying that politics is a profession. While it usually does have other sources of wealth, like land, this class is extraordinarily dependent expanding its wealth, power, and status on the control and maintenance of political office.

For competing factions of this class, the positions of mayor, governor, and district congressman are critical offices to gain, and once one reaches the limit of three consecutive terms for each office, one feels compelled to run for another position or return to a previously held position. One cannot just vacate a position for which one can no longer run but ensure that a relative, preferably one’s spouse or offspring, fills it. Politics is truly a family affair in the worst sense of the term. The consequences of losing the hold of one’s family on a political office can be the beginning of decline, and eventually marginalization. The prospect of this loss of power, fortune, and prestige is what motivates families not to be satisfied with just having one position but to monopolize all the key positions—mayor, district congressman, party-list congressman, and governor. The best defense is offense, and family monopoly is best since political alliances based on short-term interests tend also to be short-term.

With almost no exception, this dynamics of dynastic succession repeated itself in almost every city and province I campaigned in. We are accustomed to condemning politicians seeking to keep everything in the family, but, in a sense, they are just as much trapped in a system as the rest of us in a system that encourages destructive dynastic politics.

Non-existent: the Policy Debate

The Villar camp made poverty the issue. But it was the Noynoy-Mar camp that hit the right note with the voters by claiming that corruption caused poverty. After nine years of unbridled corruption in Malacanang and deepening poverty among the masses, the popularity of the kung walang kurap, walang mahirap slogan was understandable.

The only problem is that while indeed corruption contributes to poverty, it is not the main cause of poverty, and the hegemony of the corruption discourse curing the campaign meant the avoidance of any substantive discussion of the key issues behind poverty and economic stagnation--among them, uncontrolled population growth, a debt service policy that has radically reduced funds for capital expenditures, trade liberalization that has devastated industry and agriculture, and the completion of the land reform program. Sure, some policy issues were discussed during the presidential debates, but these were often those, like education policy, that elicited the usual motherhood statements. And when a controversial policy issue could not be avoided, like the issue of reproductive health, most candidates threw principled but unpopular positions out the window.

One can, of course, understand the necessities of campaign rhetoric, but the danger is that campaign rhetoric might substitute for policy initiatives when the new administration comes to power. This would be a disaster since poverty will not be eliminated or reduced by moral crusades against corruption but by reversal of the anti-growth, anti-equity policies such as the debt service policy and trade liberalization.

Religious Diktat Subverts Democracy

During one of the meetings I had with community leaders, I asked a member of the Iglesia ni Cristo (INC) if the rank and file had influence on the selection of candidates to support. His response was curt: that was the prerogative of the Church leaders.

This was one of the incidents that revealed to me just how fragile the principle of the separation of church and state is in our democracy. All the presidential candidates fawned on the INC, with its five million votes and paid several visits to Pastor Quiboloy in Davao, who is said to command three million votes. Whoever Church patriarch Eduardo Manalo tells his sect to vote for is law, and the same is said to be true of Quiboloy. The danger to democracy becomes very apparent when elections are closely contested, which is the case for the current race for vice president. The dictatorial bloc voting of the INC and Quiboloy could end up determining who wins the vice presidency, thus subverting electoral democracy, which rests on the principle of choice of the individual sovereign citizen.

As in every dictatorship, authoritarian control spawns collateral abuses. For instance, in one Bulacan municipality, residents allege that local Iglesia leaders sold the promise of bloc votes to local candidates, something that is said to be prohibited by the Church leadership but which occurs nevertheless since the penalties are relatively light.

But it is not only the INC and Quiboloy’s Kingdom Nation that pose a threat to the principle of the separation of Church and State. The Catholic Bishops’ Conference of the Philippines encouraged voters to vote against proponents of the Reproductive Health Bill, wrongly and maliciously accusing them of promoting abortion. The question is not so much the people, which surveys reveal to be in favor of artificial contraceptives like condoms for fertility control, but the politicians, who pander to the Church hierarchy, thinking they still exert strong influence over the opinions of the laity. This is a big myth, and the sooner the politicians see the hollow threat behind the bishops’ pronouncements on matters of individual choice, the better for all of us. With its veto over reproductive rights, the Catholic hierarchy has now become one of the biggest blocks to women’s health, poverty alleviation, and environmental protection.

The Party-List Fiasco

When I mentioned during our innumerable sorties in public markets that I was running for the House of Representatives under the party-list system, I would often be met with a quizzical look. So I can confirm first hand what the surveys have consistently shown: that up to 75 per cent of voters are not aware of the party-list system or how it works.

This dismal state of affairs is not surprising since so few resources have been spent educating the voters about the party-list system that the chairman of the Comelec, Jose Melo, himself has admitted that he did not understand it.

Yet the Comelec is not the only institution responsible.

The framers of the 1987 Constitution appeared to have two related ideas when coming up with the party-list system. One was to give an avenue for the articulation of the voices of marginalized groups that could not prosper under the money-intensive elections for district congressman. The other was to encourage the formation of such parties for the politically marginalized on a nationwide basis. So for 20 per cent of the seats in the House, elections were to be held not on the basis of the first-past-the-post, plurality- winner-take-all system, but on proportional representation.

The idea was excellent, except that a clear definition of a marginalized group was never really made by the framers of the Constitution or by the party-list law. Many party-list groups that formed indeed represented marginalized groups, but the political class saw in the ambiguity of the concept of marginalized group a new avenue to get to the House. From the very beginning, the number of participating parties claiming to represent all sorts of “marginalized groups” was large: 123 in the 1998 elections and 162 in 2001. This election, the size of the ballot—25 inches—was determined by the need to accommodate 187 competing groups.

Malacanang also saw the system as a way of ensuring its control of the House, so in the last few years, it has informally sponsored and funded all sorts of parties claiming to represent marginalized groups, from balut vendors, tricycle drivers, and security guards, to ethnic minorities, and regional ethnic groups. It has been conservatively estimated that at least 45 of this year’s participating groups are “pakawala” or agents of Malacanang, their purpose being to ensure that the president, who is running for the second district of Pampanga, becomes the Speaker of the 15th Congress.

Perhaps the nadir of the party list system was reached two days before the May 10 elections when the Comelec ruled that presidential son Mikey Arroyo could run as a representative of security guards under the party Ang Galing Pinoy even with overwhelming evidence that he had no historic links to the sector whatsoever.

In Sum…

These considerations could lead to the conclusion that the balance of trends in Philippine democracy is negative. However, if one factors in the fact that the Automated Election System (AES) has worked, despite many glitches, the balance, in my view, is positive. Perfected in elections to come, the AES will hopefully reduce poll irregularities significantly.

Yet the disturbing trends we have pointed out cast their long shadow on our democracy. If unchecked, they will definitely destabilize further an already gravely flawed system of governance.


*Inq7 columnist Walden Bello is a member of the House of Representatives representing the party-list Akbayan.

Viewing The Philippines In A Different Light

by Scott Allford

October 18, 2009

If you live outside of the Philippines and you watch or read the news you may feel very justified in believing that the Philippines is a very dangerous country, savaged by typhoons, earthquakes, volcanoes, floods, and terrorist attacks. You may also be assured in your belief that it is a poor country with images of children picking through garbage, slums, and corruption scandals broadcast in most international news reports. I am not going to deny that these things are true, however, they are not all that the country contains. Not every person in the Philippines is poor, a terrorist or a victim of terror. In fact other countries around the world suffer from these same problems yet they do not become iconic images of those nations.

The Common View of the Philippines

A few months ago I was at a roof-top birthday party in Makati filled with socialites and expats. Whilst there I was introduced to a German ‘journalist’, and my friend asked him why the Philippines is portrayed in such a negative light in the foreign media. His response was in two parts; Firstly because in his experience he could not sell stories about the Philippines in Germany if they were not about poverty, violence or corruption. Secondly, he said that because there is so much poverty, violence, and corruption, there is nothing else to report on. After saying this, he sipped his glass of red wine and was whisked away into a group of Filipino socialites.

Perhaps the red wine was ‘poor’ in taste, or the fact that that particular roof-top was one of the few in Makati which doesn’t have a swimming pool made him focus on the poverty in the Philippines, or maybe the sounds of merrymaking were ‘violent’ on his ears. I think that it was none of these things. Germany, a developed country, has slums. But if the focus can be moved away from the poverty in the developed countries and put on some islands way out in the Pacific Ocean, then people in developed countries can feel a little bit better.

I remember growing up in Australia, taking garbage out to the dump after cleaning up the garden. I would see Aboriginals picking through the garbage for food. Yet that has never been an iconic image of Australia. I went to ‘water villages’ in Malaysia and Brunei and thought how similar they look to slums in Manila. Yet ‘water villages’ are tourist attractions and the slums here are not. I lived in South Korea a few hundred kilometres away from the DMZ, with jets and helicopters flying overhead all the time it felt like a war zone. In the spring I would have 40 tanks facing in the direction of my apartment. Yet South Korea is generally not viewed or branded as a dangerous country. And South Korea has slums too. Perhaps the time will come when people outside the Philippines will come to realize that the branded image of the Philippines portrayed in the media is only a small piece of the full picture of this country.

A Different View

Since the Philippines was settled by people 30,000 years ago, this country has blossomed into a mix of over 180 indigenous ethnic groups, over half of which also represent unique linguistic groups. This array of cultures, languages and cultural artifacts cannot be matched by most nations of the world. From the Ilocano, Pangasinense, Kapampangan, Tagalog, Bicolano, and Visayans to the Binukid, Moros, Ati, Igorot, and the T’boli, just to name a few. These cultures are rich, strong and proud and in most cases the people that make up these cultures are very friendly and welcoming to outsiders. On a trip to Sagada I was welcomed into a very warm and friendly Kankanaey family. T hey showed us around Sagada and told us stories of Kankanaey cultural practices. They even taught me how to wear a traditional bahag (a hand-loomed loin cloth or G-string).

Neighbouring Sagada is Ifugao, with vast rice terraces that shape the mountains of the region. The oldest rice terraces are 6,000 years old, which is 1,000 years older than the oldest pyramid in Egypt. If put end to end the rice terraces dwarf the Great Wall of China, and the rice terraces were not made by using slave labor like most other ancient wonders of the world.

The Banaue Rice Terraces are a UNESCO World Heritage site. But they are not alone. The Philippines have numerous UNESCO world heritage sites including the Baroque churches of San Agustin Church in Manila, Nuestra Señora de la Asuncion in Santa Maria, Ilocos Sur, San Agustin Church in Paoay, Ilocos Norte, and Sto. Tomas de Villanueva Church in Miag-ao, Iloilo. There is also the beautiful and historic town of Vigan in Ilocos Sur. Furthermore, there are the natural UNESCO World Heritage sites of the Puerto-Princesa Subterranean River National Park and the Tubbataha Reefs Natural Park.

Lastly, the Philippines consists of 7,107 beautiful islands. These islands contain remote beaches and amazing rock formations as well as other natural wonders like the Chocolate Hills in Bohol, the perfectly conical Mt. Mayon volcano or the stunning Bacuit Bay in El Nido, Palwan. B ut also on these islands is a range of biodiversity not seen in most other places on the planet. In Romblon, Sibuyan Island is known as the Galapagos of Asia as it contains such a diverse range of species which can be found nowhere else on the planet. If you get off these islands and dive into the cool blue-turquoise waters of the Philippines, you may also see some of the richest biodiversity in the world’s seas. The Verde Island Passage has been named as the ‘centre of the centre’ of marine biodiversity in the world. It has over 300 species of corals as well as vast numbers of fish that you will not find anywhere else.

With all that this country has to offer, I am baffled as to why it has been branded in such a negative way by the international media. However, I think that more and more people are starting to discover that there is a different side to the Philippines to the one they have been bombarded with for the past few decades. Those who come to the Philippines to seek out the beauty of this country will not be disappointed. However, first time travelers to the Philippines should beware, just like me and many other foreigners, this amazing country may compel you to stay quite a bit longer than you initially planned.

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Scott M. Allford has lived and worked in Australia and South Korea and has traveled extensively throughout Asia - Mongolia, China, Tibet, Cambodia, Vietnam, Thailand, Malaysia, Singapore, Taiwan, Indonesia and Japan – fell in love with the Philippines and decided to allocate at least two years to comprehensively cover the country.

Final piece of a puzzle by Krisanne Alcantara

Philippine Daily Inquirer First Posted 02:57:00 02/09/2008

The great Filipino Diaspora has resulted in countless Filipinos settling down all over the world, in countries such > as the United States, Canada and Australia. These Filipinos are admired for uprooting completely and attaining the coveted Western dream, all-inclusive of the dollar-earning corporate job, Mercedes-Benz, shiny Gap-clothed offspring and glittering palatial homes in the suburbs.

But let me tell you, all that glitters is not gold.

I know, because I am one of those Filipino-Australian /American offspring, part of an entire generation of young Filipino adults who have lived and been raised "abroad," a generation who, despite being born into the Great American Dream of their progenitors, cannot help but suffer from some form of identity crisis.

I am the perfect case study. Born in Manila, shipped to Australia for 10 years, only to be relocated in America, then back in Australia during my adolescence, I had completely given up finding a place to call home. Consequently, for years I insisted on calling myself a "citizen of the world." By the ripe old age of 21, I was jaded and slightly defiant, if not a little confused.

That was until a week ago, when I found myself standing in the middle of a traffic-congested road with no distinct lanes, poorly attempting to "para" [halt] a jeepney in the thick of the Manila heat, knowing a total of 12 words in Tagalog and not knowing the difference between a P5 and a P10 coin -- and feeling right at home.

Coming back to the Philippines in my adulthood is akin to the satisfaction of finding that final piece of the puzzle and placing it snugly where it belongs. It is like filling an empty space that you never knew existed. "Where have you been all these years?" I wondered, as sweat poured down my brow and I was almost killed by a reckless taxi driver.

Ironically, I have lived the "dream life" abroad like so many Filipinos constantly tell me they are desperate for. Whenever I mention that I currently reside in Australia, this revelation is always immediately followed by something along the lines of "Ay, Australia, gusto ko 'dyan!" ["Australia, I want to be there!"]

And with good reason. Me too, I like it in Australia. It's practically impossible not to like the country. It is so clean and so green, there is hardly any traffic and the weather obeys the seasons: winter means "cold" and summer means "hot."

Yet, now, after years of desperately trying to find this elusive place called home and instead being offered breathtakingly beautiful substitutes, I find myself loving a country where winter means "hot," and summer means "heat so excruciating you may as well be living inside a furnace." It's a country where people stare at me like an alien when I attempt to speak Tagalog (and oh, I try so hard), and a country where the skyline is defiled by billboards of heavily airbrushed superstars advertising anything, from hair products to coffee creamer.

What many people don't know about we "lucky" Filipinos who have lived abroad our entire lives is that there is a tug-of-war that happens beneath the surface for many of us. There is an entire generation of Filipino young adults who have been brought up in another country, who experience a constant, underlying struggle between the culture that runs in their blood, and the culture that they live and breathe on a daily basis.

We are the young people who have been forced by our parents to adopt English as our first language and eat Weetbix and Cornflakes for breakfast. We nonchalantly take our SATs or HSCs, knowing that getting into universities is no drama, and neither is finding some form of employment if we fail.

Yet there is some kind of inexplicable emptiness that is hard to fill, or even admit, that is common among many of us Fil-Oz and Fil-Am youngsters.

I know this, having Filipino cousins and friends in both America and Australia. Within many of us lies the similar, disjointed feeling of being neither here nor there, being neither wholly American/Australian nor wholly Filipino.

Please don't misunderstand me. I love Australia. It has been very kind to me, and I would not be sitting here had it not generously awarded me a free education at one of its most prestigious universities and then sent me to work here, expenses paid. And I know it sounds shallow, but boy, is Australia beautiful.

But the Philippines possesses a different kind of beauty that does not have to do with immaculate greenery, flawless stretches of golden desert and glittering turquoise ocean. In my opinion, the Philippines is beautiful because of its irony and its endearing imperfection.

A Third World country with gargantuan shopping malls to rival the world's best. A country with the most shopping malls, and also the most slum areas and poverty. A country so devoutly Roman Catholic yet also one of the most destitute and plagued with the most problematic of governments. And a country whose citizens are labelled "the happiest people in the world," according to the Chinese Asiaweek.

I have witnessed firsthand the breathtaking opulence of Malacañan Palace during vin d'honneur, and I have visited slums where shanties are packed so tightly together that the tiny doors can only open inwards and children run around barefoot and naked. I have witnessed both Gloria Macapagal-Arroyo' s presidential address beneath a glittering crystal chandelier and the heartbreaking sight of a sweating man standing in between two lanes of traffic, balancing a stand of peanuts on one arm and his toddler in the other.

The Philippines is such a charming, enchanting, endearing mess of a country. Nothing really seems to fit, yet it all does.

And it reminds me a bit of myself. Perhaps that's why I feel like I fit right in. Perhaps that's why after all these years I can say I have finally, thankfully, found my home.

So, for all you fellow Filipinos here in the Philippines who dream of a life abroad, I am not telling you to stop dreaming. Explore your horizons. Go to college, apply for scholarships, and work abroad. Just know where you came from, and feel blessed to have what you have. And never forget to come back to help your fellowmen, your people

And to the lost souls, the confused "citizens of the world" like me who may be reading this: Don't lose hope. As the famous saying goes, "Life is a voyage that's homeward bound." In other words, no matter where or how far you wander, don't fret -- you will one day end up where you belong. Take it from me.

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Krisanne Alcantara, 21, is a journalism student at the University of Sydney. She won the Myer and AKF journalism scholarship and is currently an intern at the Philippine Daily Inquirer.

Copyright 2008 Philippine Daily Inquirer. All rights reserved.

There's the Rub: May araw din kayo

By Conrado de Quiros
There's The Rub, Columnist
Philippine Daily Inquirer

Posted date: August 17, 2009


"Tatagalugin ko na nang makuha n’yo. Kahit na lingwaheng kanto lang ang alam kong Tagalog.Tutal Buwan ng Wika naman ang Agosto. Baka sakali ’yung paboritong wika ni Balagtas ay makatulong sa pag-unawa n’yo dahil mukhang ’yung paboritong wika ni Shakespeare ay lampas sa IQ n’yo. Kung sa bagay, ang pinakamahirap gisingin ay ’yung nagtutulug-tulugan. Ang pinakamahirap padinggin ay ’yung nagbibingi-bingihan . Ang pinakamahirap paintindihin ay ’yung nagmamaangmaangan. Bueno, mahirap din paintindihin ’yung likas na tanga. Pero bahala na.

Sabi mo, Cerge Remonde, alangan naman pakanin ng hotdog ang amo mo. Bakit alangan? Hindi naman vegetarian ’yon. At public service nga ’yon, makakatulong dagdagan ng cholesterol at salitre ang dugong dumadaloy papuntang puso n’ya. Kung meron man s’yang dugo, kung meron man s’yang puso.

Bakit alangan? Malamang di ka nagbabasa ng balita, o di lang talaga nagbabasa, kung hindi ay nalaman mo ’yung ginawa ni Barack Obama at Joe Biden nitong nakaraang Mayo. Galing silang White House patungong Virginia nang magtakam sila pareho ng hamburger. Pina detour nila ang motorcade at tumuloy sa unang hamburgerang nakita nila. Ito ang Ray’s Hell Burger, isang maliit at independienteng hamburger joint.

Tumungo ang dalawa sa counter at sila mismo ang nag-order, hindi mga aides. Nagbayad sila ng cash na galing sa sariling bulsa at kagaya ng ibang customers ay pumila para sa turno nila.

Ito ay presidente at bise presidente ng pinakamakapangyarih ang bansa sa buong mundo. Kung sa bagay, ’yung amo n’yo ay hindi naman talaga presidente. Di lang makita ang pagkakaiba ni Garci kay God kaya nasabing “God put me here.” Pekeng presidente, pekeng asal presidente.

Sabi mo, Anthony Golez, maliit lang ang P1 million dinner kumpara sa bilyon-bilyong pisong dinala ng amo mo sa bansa.

Ay kayo lang naman ang nagsasabing may inambag ang amo n’yo na bilyong-bilyong piso sa kaban ng bayan. Ni anino noon wala kaming nakita. Ang nakita lang namin ay yung bilyon-bilyong piso—o borjer, ayon nga sa inyong dating kakosa na si Benjamin Abalos—na inaswang ng amo n’yo sa kaban ng bayan. Executive privilege daw ang hindi n’ya sagutin ito. Kailan pa naging pribilehiyo ng isang opisyal ang di managot sa taumbayan? Kailan pa naging pribilehiyo ng isang opisyal ang magnakaw?

Maliit lang pala ang P1 million, ay bakit hindi n’yo na lang ibigay sa nagugutom? O doon sa mga sundalo sa Mindanao? Tama si Archbishop Oscar Cruz. Isipin n’yo kung gaano karaming botas man lang ang mabibili ng P1 million at karagdagang P750,000 na nilamon ng amo n’yo at mga taga bitbit ng kanyang maleta sa isa pang restawran sa New York.

Maliit lang pala ang P1 million (at P750,000), bakit hindi n’yo na lang ibigay doon sa pamilya ng mga sundalong namatay sa Mindanao? Magkano ’yung gusto n’yong ibigay sa bawat isa? P20,000? Sa halagang iyan 50 sundalo na ang maaabuluyan n’yo sa $20,000. Pasalu-saludo pa ’yang amo n’yo sa mga namatay na kala mo ay talagang may malasakit. Bumenta na ’yang dramang ’yan. At pasabi-sabi pa ng “Annihilate the Abus!” Di ba noon pa n’ya ’yan pinangako? Mahilig lang talagang mangako ’yang amo n’yo.

Bukod pa d’yan, saan ba nanggaling ’yung limpak-limpak na salapi ng mga kongresista na pinansisindi nila ng tabako? Di ba sa amin din? Tanong n’yo muna kung ayos lang na i-blowout namin ng wine at caviar ang amo n’yo habang kami ay nagdidildil ng asin—’yung magaspang na klase ha, ’di yung iodized. Ang tindi n’yo, mga p’re.

At ikaw naman, Romulo Macalintal, tapang ng apog mo. Maiisip mo tuloy na sundin na lang ang mungkahi ni Dick the Butcher sa “Henry VI” ni Shakespeare: “First thing we do, let’s kill all the lawyers.” Pa ethics-ethics ka pa, pasalamat ka di nasunog ang bibig mo sa pagbigkas ng katagang ’yon.

Marami mang sugapa rin sa aming mga taga media, di naman kasing sugapa n’yo. At di naman kami sineswelduhan ng taumbayan. Wala naman kaming problemang sumakay sa PAL at kailangan pang bumili ng P1.2 billion jet. Anong sabi n’yo, kailangan ng amo n’yo sa pabyahe-byahe? E sino naman ang may sabing magbabyahe s’ya? Ngayon pang paalis na s’ya—malinaw na ayaw n’yang umalis. Bakit hindi na lang s’ya bumili ng Matchbox na eroplano? Kasya naman s’ya ro’n.

Lalo kayong nagpupumiglas, lalo lang kayong lumulubog sa kumunoy. Di n’yo malulusutan ang bulilyasong ginawa n’yo. Para n’yo na ring inagaw ang isinusubong kanin ng isang batang nagugutom. Tama si Obama at Biden: Sa panahon ng recession, kung saan nakalugmok ang mga Amerikano sa hirap, dapat makiramay ang mga pinuno sa taumbayan, di nagpapakapariwara. Sa panahon ng kagutuman, na matagal nang kalagayan ng Pinoy, at lalo pang tumindi sa paghagupit ng Typhoon Gloria, dapat siguro uminom na lang kayo ng insecticide. Gawin n’yo ’yan at mapapawi kaagad ang kagutuman ng bayan.

Sa bandang huli, buti na rin lang at ginawa n’yo ’yung magpasasa sa P1 million dinner habang lupaypay ang bayan sa kagutuman—di lang sa kawalan ng pagkain kundi sa iba pang bagay—at pagdadalamhati sa yumaong Ina ng Bayan. Binigyan n’yo ng mukha ang katakawan. Katakawang walang kabusugan. Mukhang di nakita ng masa sa usaping NBN, mukhang di nakikita ng masa sa usaping SAL. Mukhang nakita lang ng masa dito sa ginawa n’yong ito. Sa pagpapabondat sa New York habang naghihinagpis ang bayan.

At buti na rin lang mayroon tayong sariling wika. Di sapat ang Inggles para iparamdam sa inyo ang suklam na nararamdaman namin sa inyo. Di sapat ang Inggles para ipakita sa inyo ang pagkamuhi na nararamdaman namin sa inyo. Di maarok ng Inggles ang lalim ng poot na nararamdaman namin sa inyo.

Isinusuka na kayo ng taumbayan, mahirap man sumuka ang gutom.

May araw din kayo."


©Copyright 2001-2009 INQUIRER.net, An Inquirer Company

The Challenge Of History: Why, where and how we failed, and what will we do now

HINDSIGHT By F Sionil Jose Updated February 15, 2009 12:00 AM [Philstar original post, here.]

Last week, the National Commission for Culture and the Arts brought together more than a hundred writers from all over the archipelago to the UP and Ateneo campuses in Diliman for a three-day conference. The convener, the brilliant poet Ricardo M. de Ungria, asked me to speak at the conference opening. This is what I told them:

Given the nostalgic and magisterial inclination of the elderly, please don’t mind too much the grandiose title of this brief.

We are writers. What impact do we have on our history? We do not make the decisions that alter the nation’s destiny. And what can the solitary writer do now that will make a difference?

There will even be those who will insist that we have not failed. Those of you who are nearly as old as I am — look at the stunning skyline of Manila, there weren’t these many skyscrapers before, nor as many shiny cars in the streets and tony restaurants everywhere. Multitudes of Filipinos are traveling abroad — we have become a very cosmopolitan nation.

Indeed, the grass-roofed houses such as the one where I lived as a boy are nowhere to be seen. Almost all the houses all over the country are now roofed with tin.

I have also said again and yet again that behind our flamboyant fiestas, our bright smiles, deep within us is deep unhappiness. Just consider these: we are now 90 million and half of our people consider themselves poor, hunger stalks our land bountiful though it is with verdant plains. So many Filipinos now eat only once a day. An economist predicted that there will be 11 million Filipinos this year who will be jobless.

And the corruption! The businessman Vicente Paterno said recently only two cabinet officers in the Arroyo government are honest; the Secretary of the Department of Social Welfare, Esperanza I. Cabral, and the National Defense Secretary, Gilbert C. Teodoro. Jr. I have great respect for Mr. Paterno; of the many technocrats who backstopped Marcos, only he had the courage and humility to come out and say, Mea culpa.

Our courts are discredited, we have the highest drug addiction rate in Southeast Asia. Given these grim conditions, it is very possible that our country could implode — a failed state. What is our response to the coming deluge?

Our history tells in the last hundred years, three momentous events tested us as a people: the Revolution of 1896, the Japanese Occupation in 1942, and the declaration of Martial Law in 1972 by Ferdinand Marcos.

How did our writers respond to these watershed events? I will mention just a few: in 1896, Jose Rizal, Marcelo H. del Pilar, Apolinario Mabini, and yes, even Andres Bonifacio. Lest we forget,Bonifacio also wrote essays and poetry.

So much has been said about Rizal repudiating that revolution but his novels — by citing in them (primarily the Noli) the injustices of Spanish colonialism — argued for revolution. In writing the Noli, Rizal signed his own death warrant. He did not have to but he returned to Filipinas where the battle was to be fought; he could have easily stayed abroad and, being a medical doctor, he would not have starved like Marcelo H. del Pilar. Mabini provided the intellectual underpinning of that struggle. He also served the very poor. Exiled in Guam by the Americans, he decided to pledge allegiance to the United States so he could return home to die.

The other day, I was accompanied by Sylvia Roces, the daughter of Rafael Roces, Jr., writer, patriot and one of the founding members of the pre-war Civil Liberties Union. We visited the unimposing mausoleum in the Manila North cemetery where the bones of her father are interred with 27 others, including Manuel Arguilla whom we all know. Roces, Arguilla and the others were executed by the Japanese in August 1944for their guerrilla activities. I never got to meet Liling Roces but I did see Arguilla in the afternoons before World War II when I read at the National Library which was then in the basement of what is now the National Museum. Arguilla was easily recognizable because he had a big dark mole on his left cheek. In 1950, I went to Bauang in La Union where I met his father, a peasant like my grandfather, whose toes were splayed “like ginger.”

In the late ‘60s, Ferdinand Marcos was able to convince some of our best writers to work for him. Among them, OD Corpuz, Blas Ople, Adrian Cristobal, Francisco “Kit” Tatad. When he declared Martial Law in 1972, one young poet, Emmanuel Lacaba fought the regime, one of the few writers who really cared. I published his poetry in my journal Solidarity, shared his company, his conversation. I was stunned when I learned he joined the New People’s Army, and that he had died in Davao.

It is now a generation since Marcos has passed away but the stigma he left behind is much too indelible to be erased.

As for those who worked with him, those who are still alive, the challenge to them now is to tell us what they knew, show us why Marcos failed. They owe this not just to history, but to us.

And now, this global crisis that is battering our shores. For so many of us, time is just a simple sequence with no other meaning, except for those whose work is defined by either hours or the seasons. Punctuality is a virtue that has yet to be acquired by most Filipinos. Time is, of course, history — wherein events occur, wherein people live and die and act out their fates.

For so many people in our part of the world, ancestors are worshipped and remembered and a person’s lineage or that of a family or a clan is not only recorded but revered and held precious. Not so for so many of us, particularly those in the lower classes, where family members are now strewn all over the globe as the agrarian culture which promotes family closeness is shattered by the modernizing process; thus, time renders even more difficult the development of the community spirit, from where the sense of nation grows.

Without this sense of community/nation, memory fades and history is disregarded, or even rejected. So Filipinos do not remember the past, except that past which has affected them as individuals — the personal past, not the past which impacts on communities and people.

I bring this process of erosion to mind so we can locate ourselves, so we can perceive the necessity of how important it is for us to be contextual — not just in our writing but in our very lives, the way Rizal was, and Arguilla, and that young poet, Eman Lacaba.

But even contextuality is not enough; ethics also matters, perhaps more so than contextuality. Remember always: writers are also teachers.

If art and literature are moral, if literature is the noblest of the arts — it follows that writers should then be of noble bearing, capable of lofty deeds or, at the very least, living in a manner that enables us to look others straight in the eye. In these times of want, of cowardice and compromise, this requires of us not just courage but compassion.

But we also know that virtue can be punishment and thus knowledge is what drives us to seek refuge in the cave, in the eyrie of loneliness itself.

As writers, we know only too well this profound loneliness which torments us and also sustains us — this loneliness from which emanates the melancholy that suffuses the best, the loftiest of the arts. This loneliness is humankind’s fate, though not often recognized as such; it grows from the darkness of the womb, and we immerse deeper in it into a larger darkness of the soul. From this loneliness, we try to connect with other human beings, and in the process, we then form the coterie, the ethnic community, and hopefully, as it is with us today, the nation.

In striving to free ourselves from the loneliness of ourselves, we derive some strength and also some meaning by giving our struggle a definition, a purpose, an ideology, even, to which we can then subscribe, to which we can then gather around and be bonded with our kith and kin, our neighbors, our tribe and our race. This hankering for belonging, for an identity, is sometimes labeled as racism, or nationalism, and this nationalism never really dies although it has been corrupted, debased and condemned. It will persist because it is also one illustration — perhaps the only valid illustration — of how we banish our loneliness, how we triumph over it. For as Jean Paul Sartre said, “man is doomed to be free.”

This freedom, even though it be nurtured only in the mind, is elusive — not an illusion. As artists, we will always be alone. We are self-centered, narcissistic and hypersensitive. We are constantly at war with one another, envious of the success of others and forever finding fault with them, and the world even, and never with ourselves. We are whiners, building plots and myths about ourselves, dramatizing our failures and enlarging our little sorrows into mega tragedies. Suffering, particularly the emotional kind, is the ambrosia on which we feed.

We die early when we celebrate only ourselves.

It is those among us who can transcend the narrow compass of our egos, who can then elaborate on our virtues not just as singular individuals but as bonded people of a nation, who do not die young, who are also capable of realizing themselves, who know they have to strive always and do better every time.

It is they who can see also beyond themselves, who know what the larger truths in life that are not expressed should be — that they must always emphasize the obvious. This is not just function but duty, which we often do not recognize — those wrinkles in our faces and in the social fabric that we take for granted, the vile corruption, the inchoate evil that pervades the atmosphere.

For us, then, the challenge of the past, of our own history, is constant and unending, ever alive every moment of the day. All through time, while artists have persevered to achieve excellence and permanence, they have also tried to mirror their times, not just to express themselves but to locate themselves in the vortex of their societies.

For those of us who have grown old stirring the rubble around us, and aware of the frailty of our response, let us take comfort in our youth for, indeed, not just our people but our country as well are very young. The oldest document that validates our youth is that brass relic found in a Laguna riverbed some two decades ago — it is not more than 900 years old.

In the context of history, therefore, we are in the founding stage, the age of Honor, or Chaucer. As I sometimes tell young writers, we have no Confucius looking down over our shoulder, nor even Cervantes, but only Rizal and before him Balagtas, and for the Ilokanos, Pedro Bukaneg although, I suspect, he wasn’t that ancient.

What we are writing now, if excellent, will survive the severest critic of all — which is time. These will be the classics a few centuries hence although, of course, we will never know what the future will bring. And thank God for our youth because we are not crippled by tradition, by necrophilic bondage to the past.

We can be comforted, too, by our own history, brief though it be; of how we fought colonialism and its depredations upon us, and most of all, upon our minds.

No, colonialism is not dead! It hovers over us every day, right in this hall, in those of us who think that the imprimatur of recognition is to be published in the United States, in those of us who ape the literary pyrotechnics of the latest best sellers over there. Just think back, how many among us tried to imitate Gabriel Garcia Marquez when he first bloomed two decades ago. How many among our teachers to this very day still parrot the tenets of the New Criticism, when it died long ago in American academe where it started.

As I always say, write for our people and not for the Americans — if we are good, not just they, then the whole world will recognize us. But first we must be read by our own people and this, indeed, is very sad for we don’t even read one another.

Be that as it may, our history tells us with force and certitude that above the travail that we have gone through in these calamitous events that I have mentioned, although we did not prevail, we persevered.

That perseverance must now be channeled into a struggle versus a virus we often don’t recognize. For too long, we have regarded ourselves as victims of oppression, of oligarchic exploitation, and in us is the accretion of anger against injustice. We understand all these burdens, in many instances they are what fuel our striving, our sense of purpose. We must now go beyond this syndrome, this labeling of ourselves as victims, not to forget the condition as it has warped us but as the durable cocoon from which we must emerge into the freedom of a larger vision and effort, into thinking beyond our geography to recognize that the larger world outside is threatening us, engulfing us as with the economic crisis which we cannot escape.

We know that it is greed — untrammeled and wanton — which has caused so much grief not just on our shores but elsewhere. How to regulate this greed within and beyond us, how to help build the fragile institutions that will save us, show us how to morph this avarice into a more meaningful hunger for knowledge, for truth, for fulfillment.

Back to the solid, sordid reality of our times.

My generation failed; I pray that yours will not, must not — that in whatever language you write, wherever you will live, on native soil or in exile, nurture your roots with steadfast integrity, as did Rizal, Arguilla, Eman; you may not have read them, you may not even think of them, but like them; you will then build the marmoreal foundation for this nation.

All of us know that our country does not realize how important literature is, or the arts, for that matter. We know that we will never earn enough with our writing and we will be lucky if our families understand this for our greatest support comes from our loved ones. But even if we will not be appreciated or amply rewarded, we also know that we have to plod on, to write as best and as honestly as we can and we will do this not because we are masochists or because a munificent bonus awaits us in the afterlife. We must bear this duty, endure it, if we are to be true not just to the vocation we have chosen but to this land that sustains us, which gave us life and a reason to be.

Looking Back: The execution of Bonifacio by Ambeth Ocampo

Reposted from the Philippine Daily Inquirer
First Posted 02:02:00 05/15/2009


There are two death anniversaries falling this week that often go unnoticed. May 10 marks the death, in 1897, of Andres Bonifacio, and May 13 marks the death, in 1903, of Apolinario Mabini.

The Supremo of the Katipunan was executed somewhere in the Maragondon range, and his remains have never been found. Bones were exhumed there in 1918, but I believe those were fake.

The brains of the Revolution died of cholera in his brother´s home in Nagtahan which was recently relocated, we hope for the last time, to the Polytechnic University of the Philippines, Mabini campus in Manila by the banks of the Pasig River.

Our textbooks are understandably vague regarding the death of Bonifacio because it is very difficult to explain politics and power struggle to children who then grow up thinking Emilio Aguinaldo had Bonifacio killed.

In a nutshell, a revolutionary government was born from the Katipunan in what is known as the Tejeros Convention. Bonifacio did not agree, and so we had two governments. He was captured, tried for treason, found guilty and sentenced to death. Aguinaldo hesitated and considered commuting the sentence, but was convinced by one of Bonifacio´s men, Artemio Ricarte, to proceed with the execution. This is one of the problem areas of textbook history.

Unlike Rizal who was technically killed by "the enemy," Bonifacio was killed by fellow Filipinos. Like many in the French Revolution he read about, Bonifacio was a victim of the very revolution he started.

Discussion on this is endless, and it will fill many more May 10 columns in the future. Today I reproduce Lazaro Makapagal´s eyewitness account of the execution of the Bonifacio brothers published in the Dec. 1, 1928 issue of the Philippines Free Press. This is supposed to be an English translation of a Tagalog document then preserved in the archives of the Veteranos de la Revolucion.

"I received orders from General Mariano Noriel to take over Andres Bonifacio and Procopio Bonifacio, from the place where they were detained, and to conduct them to the hill of Tala in Maragondong, Cavite. General Noriel handed to me at the same time a sealed package with orders that it be not opened until we reached the place I mentioned. I was charged to follow to the letter, the instructions contained within the package.

"In compliance with these orders, I took with me the two brothers to the place mentioned, together with four soldiers under my command. On the road we conversed like friends. But I already had a presentiment of the order contained within the parcel.

"On reaching Tala hill in Maragondong, I opened the order, read it, and then let the brothers read it. It was an order for the execution of the brothers. The two brothers were terror stricken; Andres told me in Tagalog, `Patawarin ninyo ako, kapatid.´ (Brother, forgive me.) I answered that I was very sorry, but by military discipline I had to carry out the unhappy task.

"I conducted Procopio, who was stronger, to a wooded place, and on reaching the top of the hill, I ordered one of the soldiers to shoot him in the back. This done, I and the soldiers, using bayonets and bolos, dug a pit where we buried Procopio.

"When I approached the place where Andres was, he said, `Patay na kapatid ko.´ (My brother is dead.) And he added, `Patawarin ninyo ako, kapatid.´ I replied that I was sorry, but it was my military duty to follow the order.

"Andres Bonifacio tried to escape, but he could not go far because of the thick shrubbery around. One of the soldiers reached him, firing at him from behind and shooting him in the back. After digging one more grave with our bayonets and bolos, we buried Andres in it.

"Procopio and Andres were not taken to Tala hill bound but free. Andres had only one wound, in one of his arms. From the hill where Procopio was buried to the grave of Andres, on a hill slope facing a rivulet, there were only twenty-five steps, while from Andres´ grave to the brook the distance was about five brazas.

"The brothers were buried in the morning. This was before the fighting with the Spaniards took place, when they captured Maragondong.

"Andres wore a white camisa de chino on the day of his execution. The gun used was a Remington. The four soldiers who accompanied us were natives of Kawit, and they are all dead. I am the only survivor of the occurrence."

A year later, Makapagal gave a more detailed account of the execution in a letter to Jose P. Santos. This version states that Bonifacio begged for his life on his knees (which many people do not wish to accept then as now).

Ricarte, in his memoirs, made a mistake in giving the names of the executioners. He went on to suggest that Aguinaldo had the Bonifacio brothers executed because they were his rivals, conveniently leaving out the detail that it was he who had argued for their execution when Aguinaldo considered exile.

Most of the time history is difficult because of the lack of sources, but a greater challenge faces those who have to sift through and validate more than one, sometimes conflicting, sources. There is a landscaped shrine in the Maragondon execution site today, but until we have located Bonifacio´s remains and laid them to rest, we may never resolve the issue of his death.

---------------------

Related posts:

What did Bonifacio look like? Question stalls statue By Marlon Ramos
Inquirer First Posted 01:45:00 12/02/2007

Looking Back: Searching for Andres Bonifacio By Ambeth Ocampo
Philippine Daily Inquirer First Posted 02:48:00 11/28/2008

Wish you were here: Monday, August 21, 2006
BONIFACIO AND THE CRY OF BALINTAWAK by Senor Enrique

Autobiography of Gregoria de Jesus Translated and Annotated by Leandro H. Fernandez
See Gregoria's account of the events prior to Andres Bonifacio's execution, appendix 6.