It has become a habit of mine to remember the execution of Dr Jose Rizal by rereading Noli Me Tangere and El Filibusterismo. This year, however, I finally began to notice just how odd these two works had been in terms of our constant debate on what exactly is Filipino identity. Yes, death did lead to a revolution, but it also allowed for a lot of speculation. What would have happened if he was not stopped in Singapore and ended up in Cuba? Would he have joined the Spanish forces fighting Theodore Roosevelt and his Rough Riders? And had he survived that war, would the Americans repatriate him back to the Philippines? Would he end up staying in Cuba or perhaps move to Louisiana? Rizal, an American exile, predating Carlos Bulosan?
Or what if he returned home, was arrested, but was judged not guilty? Would he have continued with his Borneo project, moved family and friends away, just before Andres Bonifacio and the Katipunan launched their uprising? And what would he be doing in Borneo under the tutelage of the British? He was only in his early 30s, so would the British – as well as the Dutch – seek out his help to run their domains? And would he have accepted? And if, as a result of the revolution, would his colony have welcomed Filipino refugees? And what would that diaspora look like? Rizal's settlement preceding a Filipino community there now, consisting mainly of former Moro National Liberation Front fighters?
And we can go on and on and on. But these two options were possibilities that could very well happen given the profound transformation of those times. The Philippines was in the cusp of a nationalist revolution, the British had consolidated their control over the Malay states and – together with the Dutch – also ended the reign of the once-mighty Sulu and Maguindanao sultanates (making it easier for the Americans to coopt them). Finally, the United States just joined the colonial powers in Asia, along with the Japanese.
They were also possible trajectories because of the fluctuating times and the way people "saw" themselves. Had either of these outcomes, Rizal could very well cease to be a Filipino (Green card holder in Louisiana? A Malay with British residential certificate? A potential British subject?). And so you have here someone who wrote about becoming Filipino, but then leaving the Philippines? Sumptuous fare for ultranationalists and fascists back home who argue that you cease to have rights to comment on our country's politics because you "abandoned" the Philippines. (Look out Sass Rogando, this may become your fate if the Dutch give you citizenship. Taksil sa Motherland!)
This fluidity is most apparent in his novels. Consider their characters. They were not Filipinos the way we understand the term is today. They were mestizos/half breeds, most were insulares, but there was also a sprinkling of peninsulares and Mexicanos. Their standings were not even clear. Maria Clara's father is a priest who had an affair with a married Chinese-Filipina (or Malay?). Pilosopong Tasyo was an autodidact, but how did he come to acquire that knowledge? A book collection? Unlikely – he was poor. A library? Unlikely. The friars would not have allowed it. Stories from Elias or Ibarra? But he clearly was older than them. Then there is Elias. What is he? We know he is educated (won the debate with Ibarra), but could also relate to the indios (he could keep the rebellious Kabesang Tales on hold).
Many of these personalities could go in and out of the colony, and even travel to British Singapore, Dutch Java, etc. Rizal never saw his going to Singapore nor setting up a settlement in Borneo as a violation of sovereignty because this was not clear yet. And you can see this in his characters. But as "global" their thinking was, Noli's characters were mainly Manileños and from Laguna (San Diego). All of them live "in town" with Tasyo staying on the outskirts and Elias in the jungle. How can this be? How to explain this provincialism of city slickers?
Then you have the novels' principal character Ibarra, who would morph into Simoun in Fili. He was Spanish mestizo, the family definitely had money to send him to Europe for advanced studies (Did he go to UST or Ateneo Municipal wherewith the latter a "high school" education was equivalent to an undergraduate degree today? Perhaps the latter? But Rizal kept that a secret). His parents, however, sent him to Germany, not Spain, where we expect all insulares would send their children. Why? Recall that the 1860s marked the rise of the conservative Otto Von Bismark as Prussia's prime minister who shaped and helped create the modern German state. The official political culture then was directed at building powerful institutions and uniting different areas and sections of society and governing them with laws, and on a specific occasion, an iron hand. This episode in German history was most likely what framed Rizal's portrait of Ibarra who, upon arriving at Kapitan Tiago's dinner party, introduced himself as "a German gentleman" and then showed his love for Maria Clara by not giving her a bouquet of roses but building her a school!
Yet here too was an intellectual whose political naivete was appalling, when he – aghast – disagreed passionately with Elias' call for reforms. Then Ibarra got easily destroyed by the illiterate Salvi's plots, then turned to the dark side, returning to the colony years later as the "American" Simoun after recovering his wealth through devious means and becoming patron for every despicable Spanish official sent to the Philippines (think of the likes of Chavit Singson or Atong Ang). Simoun then concocted a plot involving the planting of an IED in a house where everyone in San Diego's elites was in celebration.
This was a tactic that clearly suggested he was familiar with the politics and military tactics of anarchism, a movement that, in the 1860s, was a favorite among young people. What was Simoun? Unclear if he was Filipino then or even Spanish, but his background clearly pointing to Rizal to him as an American. But what kind of American? Definitely not the missionary, soldier, and public school teachers Filipinos would eventually meet, but more like the "gangsta" who was instrumental in getting local politicians elected in the boroughs of Tammany Hall-controlled New York and ethnically-divided Boston. To be continued. – Rappler.com
Patricio Abinales teaches Philippine political history.