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Old one-peso coins. Alin dyan ang inabutan mo? 😄 #coincollection
As we await for President Rodrigo Duterte’s first State of the Nation Address (SONA), his address is but a carrying over of the Philippine state tradition that began when President Manuel L. Quezon stood in the podium of the House Session Hall in the Old Legislative Building (now the National Art Gallery, National Museum of the Philippines, in Luneta, Manila) on November 35, 1935. Surprising as it is, since the incumbent president has appeared to have overturned some strongly held traditions of state as I have mentioned in my previous posts.
Of course, the tradition and procedure of a SONA is full of meaning. For example, the SONA is scheduled on the day of opening session of Congress as mandated by our Constitution (Art. VII, Sec. 23, 1987 Constitution of the Philippines), which is why, the speech is delivered before the legislators annually. Moreover, to show the independence of the Legislature from the Executive Branch, the preparation of the SONA is only initiated upon the President’s receiving of a formal invitation of Congress to deliver his SONA in the Batasang Pambansa. On this occasion, a joint session is held, composed of the upper and lower chambers (senators and congressmen, respectively) to hear the President deliver his speech. In his speech, he reports on “the state of the country, unveils the government’s agenda for the coming year, and may also propose to Congress certain legislative measures.”
For a more comprehensive history of this state tradition, which dates back to the early years of the American Colonial Period, read the Official Gazette historical briefer here.
The entire nation now tunes in. Whether we agree or not in the incumbent’s policies, this is historic, as the SONA will be delivered by the first Philippine president to hail from Mindanao.
Video above: A short footage of President Manuel L. Quezon delivering his State of the Nation Address in 1938 at the Senate Session Hall of the Old Legislative Building in Manila, one of those rare occasions that a SONA was delivered in the Senate hall instead of the House’s. Footage from GovPH Youtube Channel.
Saw this book full of anecdotes about Manuel Quezon, including eulogies and addresses. More on this when I finally get to read the whole thing. My takeaway from it so far was that he was well-admired, and they had good reason to.
In other news, this lil beaut has been added to my coin collection! It's a commemorative coin released by the BSP in celebration of the 70th anniversary of the return of Field Marshal Douglas MacArthur. This is probably my favorite so far, it also features a quote on the back. ☺
@indiohistorian did the research for this! With Derrick Macutay as the artist who designed it.
José Rizal's reply to Bonifacio
Mr. Andrés Bonifacio and Associates
My Colleagues-in-sentiment and Countrymen:
I was glad to receive your letter regarding the orderly and good work of my comrades-in-sentiment there. However, I have no advice except the following:
1. It is still untimely for us to separate from Spanish sovereignty, because there is no other nation that could govern us like the present government, as I had observef in the governments of other places. But, for the moment, we need only to drive away first the corrupt Spanish friars because when they are gone, we will have no more obstacle in our search for different kinds of knowledge until we reach the state of learning we so desire, likewise independence, too.
2. Regarding our being an ally of Germany, let us not enter into this. It would be harder for us to be caught between two rocks.
Yours, José Rizal
Source: Minutes of the Katipunan
From A Brief History of the Philippines by Leandro Fernandez
Ascending the Malacañan Grand Staircase: A Presidential Inaugural Tradition
Today is the day we take on another six years of a new administration. There is a lot of uncertainty, and yet there is full of hope. While the new President-elect has been brash and has broken a lot of traditions, namely his refusal of a joint inaugural with the Vice President-elect (a divisive and polarizing move) or his initial refusal to wear a barong, it would be wise to follow and align one’s self with the country’s civic traditions and ceremonies. While populists would say that these traditions are just trappings of the elite, “pasosyalan,” and a waste of time and money, I beg to disagree. Traditions have a way of pointing us to something larger than us, great ideals worth remembering and emulating.
The office on which the president-elect ascends, is not something to be seen as a reward for the winner. It is a heavy burden to bear–a burden that was given to the president-elect by the Filipino people when the nation cast its vote. And as such, the office is larger than the politics or the personhood of the President. Ultimately, it is an office connected to a long-line of Philippine presidents from 1899 to the present. It follows that while traditions or rituals such as an inaugural are deemed unnecessary in practical terms, respect given to it is also a symbolic act of respecting the very office that has steered and shaped the helm of the nation, in every crisis, revolution, and rebirth of freedom.
One tradition I would like for us to look at is the President-elect’s ritual climbing of the grand staircase of the Malacañan Palace, leading to the Reception Hall. We have a great privilege of seeing this today on live television. This tradition was begun by President Manuel L. Quezon, when he ascended that same staircase on November 15, 1935 to take on the burden of the Presidency. From his memoir The Good Fight, he wrote:
“From the grandstand, I went through streets crowded with people acclaiming their first President, on to the Palace of Malacañan, the great mansion on the bank of the Pasig River which had been the seat of power of foreign rulers for many decades past. As I stepped out of the presidential car and walked over the marble floor of the entrance hall, and up the wide stairway, I remembered the legend of the mother of Rizal, the great Filipino martyr and hero, who went up those stairs on her knees to seek executive clemency from the cruel Spanish Governor-General Polavieja, that would save her son’s life.”
As explained by the Presidential Museum and Library:
“Quezon wanted the ritual to symbolize that, henceforth, a Filipino chief executive would be governing from Malacañan Palace, one who could walk up the stairs proudly as the leader of his own people; at the same time, ascending those stairs would be a constant reminder to every president of the portion of the oath of office which pledges justice to every man.”
Prior to the ascent of the new President’s on the stairs, the tradition of the descending of the stairs is done (first done by President Manuel Roxas on May 28, 1946), with the outgoing President descending its steps and accompanied by the new President. It is a symbol of a peaceful and harmonious transition from one administration to the next.
This tradition is usually placed after the Inaugural Ceremony proper when the new President is sworn in by a Justice of the Supreme Court at the Quirino Grandstand early in the day in the presence of the People after which the new President delivers his/her inaugural speech at the Quirino Grandstand. The President would then be “greeted by the service commanders of the Armed Forces of the Philippines and the Philippine National Police,” and then proceeds to the Malacañan. But since the President-elect opted to have a private ceremony in the Palace and not in Quirino Grandstand as is tradition, this might happen in the very beginning of President Rodrigo Duterte’s Inaugural Ceremonies.
Look at these spreads featuring the cover design of Inaugural Invites of Presidents Manuel Roxas and Ramon Magsaysay:
One can compare and contrast the order of the Inaugural Ceremonies through the years, thanks to the scans of previous inaugural invitations uploaded online by PCDSPO. See Roxas’s second inaugural, Macapagal’s, Ramos’, Aquino III’s,
As the Philippines enters a new chapter in its history, may we as a people strive to unite for truth, for justice, and for good governance, never shrinking back from our duty to defend our democracy, bought by the blood of generations who came before us.
I wish the new Philippine President good luck. May our People prosper under your leadership, as it had under the previous administration. May you remember the burden placed on your shoulders–the promise of “justice to every man.” It is a tall order that you are duty-bound to fulfill.
Photos above, all courtesy of the Presidential Museum and Library:
(1) President Manuel L. Quezon ascends the grand staircase on his Inaugural Day on November 15, 1935.
(2) President Manuel Roxas accompanies outgoing President Sergio Osmeña on May 27, 1946, as they descend the staircase. He then proceeded to ascend it ceremonially (3) as the third and last President of the Commonwealth of the Philippines. Roxas ascended the staircase again on July 4, 1946, probably with no fuss, as the first President of a Philippines independent from the United States.
(4) President Elpidio Quirino ascends the staircase without accompanying the previous president, Manuel Roxas, on April 15, 1948, as the latter suddenly died of a heart attack. President Quirino wears a black arm band as a symbol of mourning for the previous president’s demise.
The birth of the modern Philippine flag.
White triangle stands for equality and fraternity; the blue field for peace, truth and justice; and red field for patriotism and valor. The sun for unity, freedom and People’s Democracy. While the eight rays of the sun stand for eight provinces that revolted against the Spanish colonizers.
Designed by President Emilio Aguinaldo and sewn by Marcela Marino de Agoncillo. Made in Hong Kong.
A brief review of Mabining Mandirigma
Note: This was a past article that I choose to also publish here. I will include my interview of the cast next time, because I managed to gather info that was too precious to throw away, just because it didn’t get published in print.
Nicanor Tiongson’s Mabining Mandirigma returns to the stage with the same promise: to not only entertain, but to also educate its audience and it truly did not disappoint.
I had the pleasure of catching the opening show and overall, it left me smitten. It was just that good, and leaves a lasting impression that’s sure to stick with you for a very long time. The show opened with a powerful number, effectively introducing its titular character, Apolinario Mabini, by showing us his roots and the drive that pushed him towards serving his country. What’s also very notable was the steampunk theme that made every second a delicious smorgasbord to feast your eyes upon: from the set (Toym Imao’s artistic signature sure does ring strong) to the costumes, the undeniably creative integration of the video projection in the show and to the lights—all of it working perfectly together to bring you the visual treat that is Mabining Mandirigma.
Liesl Batucan was truly sublime as the sublime paralytic, wonderfully delivering the demands of the role singing-wise and acting-wise. She offered a warm and endearing flair to the character, bringing Mabini back to life exactly as how you would’ve expected him to be. I cannot say the same about Arman Ferrer’s Emilio Aguinaldo though, whose interpretation differs from how history books and personal accounts describe the former president. Aguinaldo in this musical was not afraid to raise his voice, going up against the chorus and drowning everyone out with his powerful range. The scenes showing their disagreements were definitely entertaining both for the mind and the ears, as you get to see two different ideals clash and their differences further highlighted by Aguinaldo losing his temper in stark contrast to Mabini’s composure.
The show also offers a sweet balance of drama and comedy, with the Ilustrados and three dancers providing comic relief to even out the weight of the more serious scenes, such as Mabini’s monologues. The fantastic choreography compliments the soaring music, sending the audience into wild applause after every major song and dance number.
Mabining Mandirigma’s intellectual content demands the viewers to think not only for themselves, but for the Philippines—seeking out to rekindle everyone’s love for the country and its freedom. It’s a fresh retelling of a story that we have already heard of before, for it’s not only an echo of our history, but also a reflection of our present. Mabining Mandirigma is not just merely a musical, it’s a rich cultural experience that every Filipino should watch for it never ceases to be relevant, especially now that we are in the midst of looking for a new leader.
History is furious debate informed by reason and evidence.
James Loewen
There comes a time in the affairs of men when they must prepare to defend, not their homes alone, but the tenets of faith and humanity on which their churches, their governments and their very civilization are founded.
Franklin D. Roosevelt
This manifesto, in English and Tagalog, is from a growing list of more than 90 Filipino writers around the world. Our values, and candidates, differ, but we set aside what divides us to unite behind
I @indiohistorian, solemnly pledge to abide by this manifesto. I enjoin everyone to make the same pledge.
“To our Filipino sisters and brothers—at home and around the world: I pledge my pen. My task is to listen, to give voices when you’ve none, and render us with all the humanity I can muster and the dignity you deserve. As a writer I work, and witness, inform, and incite. I shall concede my stance when proven wrong, aspire to constant civility, and safeguard our history from those who reap from its rewriting. This I vow. To this I will see.
To those who mislead for fake faith, profit, or political gain—the false prophets, corporations, and agents of disinformation: my enemy is your iniquity, rapacity, manipulation; my methods are clarity, creativity, careful investigation. I know, as you do, that your power sits solely in the pliancy of us people—and I refuse to sit idly as you crave our control. I shall match your inhumanity with plain and simple decency. This I vow. To this I will see.
To our leaders abusing power—elected or otherwise: I am watching, taking notes, recording for all time. I will mock you who’ve made a mockery of our democracy; yours will not be bronze statues in plazas, or elegies on brass plaques—for my words will outlive your influence, in a world that will know the ills you committed and the ugliness that you were. In life you’ve stolen from our country and our people, and in your death I will steal the respect you never earned and the dignity you never deserved. Try to censor me and I will find a way—to immortalize your infamy, defame your legacy, tell your children’s children with accuracy of what you did and precisely all you failed to do. Your punishment will stretch through the pages of perpetuity. This I vow. To this I will see.
For all histories have shown: Elections pass, systems crumble, but stories remain. Assassinate one of us—but another speaks louder. Pass laws to make us criminals—but our writing blooms beyond their reach. For history has proven: Jose Rizal is always remembered, Marlene Esperat never forgotten. Your weapons may be violence and money, but our tools are vigilance and memory.”
(Emphasis mine)
The Martyrs of Martial Law: To forget them is to kill them twice
I remember a story, written by Maxine Hong Kingston, of a certain lady in China who was ignored by her entire village mainly because she was a mistress of an adulterer. Being ignored simply entailed ostracism by silence. Every time the lady would pass by the streets of the town, the villagers simply ignored her. When she asked a question, the villagers simply stared past her, never answering her. In her own house, her family also ignored her. Her parents burned all family pictures that included her. It was as if she never existed. The lady, deeply resenting this for this was worse than death, decided to die. She saw the family’s water well, the only well that the village drew water from. And then she jumped… to her death. She thought that in that way, the villagers would be forced to remember her. And for good or for ill, oh how she would have relished that they did remember.
Perhaps in a country with a perceived historical amnesia (or a relativistic and pragmatic set of morals in politics), we historians are burdened by the past. I call it a burden, because while we live in the present, so many voices from the past remain silenced, primarily by ignorance, by lack of primary sources, or by simply being suppressed. And this suppression takes many forms. Revising history to suit one’s own political agenda is one of them. And while I would be accused of politicking, since it’s election year this year, I think, as do all students of history, that we all owe the silenced something they’ve been longing for—that is, to be heard and to be acknowledged. That once upon a time, they existed, fought the good fight, but were silenced.
Many of these men and women were fellow citizens like you and me who had families of their own. They saw what was wrong in the country, but instead of turning a blind eye and live comfortable and passive lives, they chose to stand for what was right. Some never thought that their simple act of courage would entail such a sacrifice. Their bravery would cost them their lives.
Historical revisionists abound in the country today. To whitewash the cruelty of the dictator, they would either come up with half-truths to cover it up, or say that it was worse now than it was then, effectively belittling the lives of the victims of an oppressive regime.
Let me be blunt to people like them: Blood is on their hands.
For by making people forget the victims of martial law, to borrow the words of a holocaust survivor, they kill the victims the second time.
Perhaps it would be more personal to us if we know the martyrs by name, and their stories. Perhaps, in this small way, if we keep on making their memories alive, these revisionists would be kept at bay.
When Ambeth Ocampo asked the historian Teodoro Agoncillo on writing about Martial Law in September 1984, Agoncillo said:
“You have to wait. I will not write on it because we are too near the time. There must be perspective and the documents are not available yet. We have to give everybody a chance. That is the essence of impartiality.”
Ocampo asked, “How many years?”
He answered, “Probably twenty years.”
Well, we have heard the Marcos supporters side loud and clear. “Di tayo ang nakaraan.” they say. Don’t you think the time is ripe to write about the era and talk about it in loud voices (not in hushed tones), and not simply be dragged along by memes and catchy slogans?
There are worse things than death. Like being forgotten.
We owe it to the victims of Martial Law. Let us remember them by name. Let their scars be a loud testimony, louder than the smiles and watered-down statements of politicians who would gain from a passive audience swallowing everything they say as ‘truth’, hook, line and sinker.
Throughout this year and way after this election (when all the dusts of politicking have cleared), I will begin a blog series on the Desaparecidos and the victims of Martial Law. Please do freely reblog them. May the testimony of the victims resound. That no matter how some people make us forget, no matter how they make angry noises to drown us out, as our strong act of defiance, we shall always remember. And we shall pass on these stories to generations to come.
*VIDEO ABOVE: Millenials encounter the victims of Martial Law, a video made by the Campaign Against the Return of the Marcoses to Malacañang (CARMMA).
Join us in this effort! Please sign the CARMMA’s petition for the Department of Education to Include the Full Story of Martial Law Era in Philippine History Textbooks. It’s time.
BSP's commemorative coin for Apolinario Mabini's 150th Birth Anniversary released on 2014
For a while, it was believed by some scholars that Emilio Aguinaldo's Reseña verídica de la Revolución Filipina was actually written by Buencamino because parts of the manuscript were in his handwriting.
Buencamino wrote a letter to Dr. Galicano Apacible on September 10, 1899, saying that the Reseña was "a work written solely by Don Emilio and translated by me."
It wasn't until the original Tagalog draft surfaced(handwritten by Aguinaldo himself), had the matter been settled.
Source: Virgin of Balintawak by Ambeth Ocampo
For if this Cry of the Katipunan was an act of defiance, then it had to be made, not in secret places like Kangkong or Pugad Lawin, but in a manifest site, a theater of epiphany; and Valenzuela’s ang Agoncillo’s contention that it would have been stupid of the Katipuneros to be shouting in so conspicuous a site as Balintawak misses the point of the act, of the epiphany. completely, If you’re going to make an act of defiance against somebody, you don’t sneak into a closet and there whisper your defiance to the walls. You face your adversary and defy him, where he can see and hear you, though you may take care to be a couple of steps away fron the reach of his fist.“
Nick Joaquin, A Question of Heroes (on exactly when and where the Cry of Pugad Lawin/Balintawak happened)
The beauty and terror of the greatest of Sumerian goddesses comes through in this ancient statue. Inanna/Ishtar was at once lovely and terrible, seducing many great men and then killing them. Her unearthly white skin and glowing red eyes warn those who might answer her as she beckons with her right hand.