6 The Noli Me Tangere as Catalyst of Revolution I have chosen the wording for the title with some care: catalyst of revolution, not catalyst of the Revolution. Though there was indeed a connection between the Noli and the Revolution of 1896, I do not intend to draw a direct line between the two; the matter is more complex than that. Rather, I want to speak of Rizal’s purpose in writing the Noli—to provide a catalyst for a revolution, to start the process that would lead to the emancipation of the Philippines. That is to say that by the time he completed his novel in late 1886, Rizal had already concluded to the futility of the goals sought by many of his fellow-Filipinos, who hoped to obtain from Spain reforms for the Philippines by which Filipinos would enjoy the full rights of Spanish citizens and continue as equals within the Spanish empire. ‘This was the assimilationist solution under whose banner the Propaganda Movement would ostensibly pursue its campaign in La oo92 Noli Me Tangere Solidaridad. That Rizal had originally shared that goal is very likely true, perhaps even when he began to write the Noli in 1884. If so, by the time he brought the novel into its final form, he had already opted for ultimate separation from Spain. Since Spain would never voluntarily grant independence to the Filipinos, he had concluded, there remained no choice except a revolution, and the Noli was the first step toward that goal. Iam aware that this statement goes contrary to what numerous other writers have said about Rizal from Spanish times up to the present. It is also true that the Noli itself nowhere makes an explicit call for revolution. Hence, Spaniards, Americans, and Filipinos have said, some in praise, some in scorn, that Rizal was not a revolution- ary but a reformist; a mere reformist, as say the advocates of the violent overturning of our society. In the words of Amado Guerrero’s Philippine Society and Revolution: “{Rizal] failed to state categori- cally the need for revolutionary armed struggle to effect separation from Spain.” Similarly, from a somewhat different point of view, for Renato Constantino: “the demands of the ilustrado reformists [among whom he includes Rizal] were necessarily delimited by their class position,” and Rizal was “a reformist to the end.”? Such views had been enunciated long ago by men from opposite ends of the ideological spectrum, like Rizal’s first biographer, the Spaniard Wenceslao E. Retana. The latter denied that Rizal had been the enemy of Spain, but only one who sought reforms, which Spain unwisely denied. This too was the image promoted by American colonialists like William Howard Taft and later by W. Cameron Forbes, who even insisted: “Rizal never advocated independence nor did he advocate armed resistance to the government. He urged reform from within, by publicity, by public education, and appeal to the public conscience.”* No doubt, not everything is false in these images, but they present only certain aspects of Rizal’s ideas, and in the end certainly falsify his insights into the problems of the Philippines of his day. I would maintain, in contradiction to these views, that Rizal, as early as 1886, had already determined that there was no future for the Philippines in union with Spain, that the only course to be pursued was the complete separation from Spain as an independent nation. Why has this view found so little acceptance among writers on Rizal if it is as clear as I would maintain? I see the answer in three factors, apart from ideological biases: (1) the failure to distin- guish between what Rizal (and other Filipinos who shared his ideas) were able to say publicly and what they felt privately; (2) the failure to read Rizal's Noli and his other writings within the context of his Noli Me Tangere 93 personal correspondence at the time he was publishing; and (3) the failure to see the Noli not simply as an independent work but as part of a well-thought-out long-range plan. More specifically, Rizal’s three major books, the Noli, the annotated edition of Antonio de Morga’s Sucesos de las Isias Filipinas, and the Filibusterismo, form a unity, a carefully calibrated effort to point the way to the future independence of the Philippines. Noli as Charter of Nationalism In 1884, in his speech at the Madrid banquet honoring Juan Luna and Felix Resurreccién Hidalgo for their prize-winning paint- ings, Rizal still expresses hope for reforms from Spain. But he also speaks of two equal races, and though he proclaims that even if the Spanish flag were to disappear from the Philippines, “her memory would remain, eternal and imperishable,” at the same time he warns: “What can a red and yellow rag do, or guns and cannon, where love and affection do not flower, where there is no union of minds, no agreement on principles, no harmony of opinions?” The implicit conditions he here placed on future Filipino loyalty to Spain were not lost on Spaniards in Manila, and his brother Paciano wrote of his mother’s illness due to her fears that Jose would never be able to return to his homeland. Separation of the Philippines from Spain, therefore, was at this point a distinct possibility for Rizal, who was beginning to write his novel, but it was not inevitable. He originally intended to write the novel in French, then the universal language of educated Europe, so as to depict Philippine society for them. But as he would tell his friend Ferdinand Blumen- tritt in 1888, he had later decided that other writers could under- take that task—it was instead for his fellow Filipinos that he must write. For, he continued, “I must wake from its slumber the spirit of my country . . . I must first propose to my countrymen an example with which they can struggle against their bad qualities, and after- wards, when they have reformed, many writers will rise up who can present my country to proud Europe.” In his Noli he does seek for reforms, demands them even, but from Filipinos rather than from Spaniards. Spain of course has an obligation to grant reforms in the Philippines, but in a sense, whether she does or not is irrelevant; the Filipinos must bring about reform themselves. As I have tried to show elsewhere, the novel is not primarily an attack on the abuses of Spain and the friars. It contains that, to be sure, but it is more than that. It is a charter of nationalism for Filipinos. It calls on the Filipino to regain his self-confidence, to appreciate his own94 Noli Me Tangere worth, to return to the heritage of his ancestors, to assert himself as the equal of the Spaniards. Because it was Filipinos Rizal wrote for, he was insistent that his book had to reach the Philippines and had to be written in a language they would understand.’ What message did Rizal wish to transmit to his fellow Filipinos? As is clear from the quotation we have given, it was first of all that the Filipinos should be aware of what was wrong with Philippine society, not only Spanish abuses, but Filipino failures as well. But his purpose went beyond that. His correspondence with his new friend Blumentritt in early 1887, even though at first cautious, makes clear the direction of his thinking. From Rizal’s comments it may be gathered that Blumentritt had proposed that a time would come when the Philippines would gradually develop toward independent status with the acquiescence of Spain. Rizal answers: It will never come. The peaceful struggle must remain a dream, for Spain will never learn from her earlier colonies in South America. Spain does not see what England has learned in North America. But in the present circumstances we want no separation from Spain; all we demand is more care, better instruction, better officials, one or two representatives, and more security for ourselves and our property. Spain can still win the Philippines for herself forever, if only Spain were more reasonable® Rizal registers a glimmer of hope that the separation of the Phil- ippines from Spain might come about by a peaceful and gradual development, a vain hope he now believes, but still the ideal. But in any case the separation must come; that is clear in his mind. It is, however, not something for which the Philippines, at the moment, is ready—‘in the present circumstances we want no separation from Spain”—but the eventual goal is already determined. It becomes more clear in his impassioned outburst a month later, occasioned by the crude anti-Filipino articles being published in Madrid by the Spaniard, Pablo Feced, writing under the pseudo- nym Quioquiap. Rizal tells Blumentritt: Quioquiap is a little more crude than Cafiamaque, Mas, San Agustin, ete., but more honest; he wants separation and he is correct. The Filipinos have long desired Hispanization and have been wrong. Spain should desire this Hispanization, not the Filipinos. Now we receive this lesson from the Spaniards, and we express our thanks to them.® It is in this light that we must understand the Noli. Rizal's hostile critic, the Spanish writer Vicente Barrantes, would taunt him for making the Filipinos in his novel just as bad as the friars and the Guardia Civil.” Barrantes missed the point. Though Rizal NoliMeTéngere 95 does from time to time highlight the virtues and good qualities of the unspoiled Filipino, the Noli does not have as its goal the glo- rification of the race any more than it does the mere condemnation of Spanish oppression. A sound nationalism had to be based on an accurate and unsparing analysis and understanding of the contem- porary situation, not on a self-congratulatory, and therefore self- deceptive, adulation of all things Filipino. Before beginning the struggle, the foundation must be well and surely laid. Noli and Fili: Action with Vision For the Noli was not meant to stand alone. Even before it had come off the press, Rizal already had in mind a sequel. This we can gather from a letter written to him in Berlin by his friend Evaristo Aguirre in Madrid in January 1887: Lappland the studies you are undertaking, both of Sanskrit and of those other books which will give you the wealth of historical data needed to write that other novel, based on history, which you have in mind.” Though the planned historical novel never saw the light as such, the role it would have played may be conjectured with good proba- bility from the book that actually turned out to be the most immediate and significant outcome of Rizal’s historical studies in Germany and later at the British Museum in London, after his return to Europe in 1888. Dedicating it to his fellow Filipinos, he wrote in the preface to his annotated edition of Antonio de Morga’s seventeenth- century work, Sucesos de las Islas Filipinas, an explanation that clarifies the evolution of his thought: In the Noli me tangere I began the sketch of the present state of our country. The effect which my attempt produced made me understand that before continuing to unveil to your eyes other succeeding pictures I must first make known the past, so that it may be possible to judge better the present and to measure the path which has been traversed during three centuries. . . . If this book succeeds in awakening in you the consciousness of our past, which has been blotted out from our memories, and in rectifying what has been falsified by calumny, then I will not have labored in vain. With this foundation, tiny as it may be, we can all dedicate ourselves to studying the future.? It would seem that it was only after some months researching in the British Museum in early Spanish sources on Philippine history, that Rizal decided to give up the idea of an historical novel as a96 Noli Me Téngere sequel to the Noli. He would publish instead a scholarly analysis of the Philippines at the Spanish contact, using Morga’s book as a base. As the Noli had shown the Filipinos their present condition under Spain, the Morga would show them their roots as a nation— “the last moments of our ancient nationality,” as Rizal put it." The foundation having thus been laid in these two books, Rizal would chart the Filipino course for the future in El Filibusterismo. Here we find the fulfillment of the promise contained in the Noli. He shows two possible courses remaining: the solution of Simoun and that of Padre Florentino—that of armed violence and that of active nonviolent resistance, to put them in terms familiar today. Rizal explores the way of Simoun-Ibarra in detail and rejects it; he has Padre Florentino give only the outlines of the second course, just enough to show that it is the only way to follow. Because the implementation of Padre Florentino’s vision lies in the future, Rizal cannot give detailed instructions. Rather, he gives the vision and makes his act of faith in the Filipino and in the God of history; action in accord with that vision will prove its genuinity and open the paths to its fulfillment. This interpretation of the Fili depends on my interpretation of the Noli. Some biographers of Rizal, like Retana, have tried to explain the Noli in terms of Ibarra, the idealist, working for reforms under Spanish auspices and representing the mind of Rizal; while Elias, the man of action, represents Bonifacio, the revolutionary."* Leon Ma. Guerrero, in his First Filipino, has pointed out the fallacy in this interpretation. For when Ibarra fails in his reform program and opts for violence, it is Elias who tries to dissuade him, urging that he will lead his countrymen into a bloodbath, and that it will be the defenseless and innocent who will most suffer, Rather, says Guerrero, the Noli thus presents a problem without offering a clear solution, perhaps purposely, for either Rizal was not clear in his own mind as to the correct one, or was prudent enough not to openly favor independence and revolution.® No doubt prudence played a part, though Rizal was not one to keep silent for his own protection if he felt that something really needed to be said. Probably more significant was his prudence not to arouse people at this point to revolution. For in 1887, as he agreed with Blumentritt, the conditions for success did not yet exist. But I do not think Guerrero is correct in speculating that Rizal was perhaps not yet clear in his own mind about the future, Noli Me Téngere 97 As I have tried to show, he had decided on separation from Spain when he published the Noli. And in broad lines he knew how he thought it should come about. He originally intended to propose the solution in his second novel, but then realized that he could only do so after having laid further groundwork. The first part of that groundwork, the awakening of a national consciousness, already begun in the Noli, had to be undergirded with a solid historical foundation; this he did in the Morga. But there still remained the course of action to be explored for the fulfillment of the nationalism he had aroused. The obvious answer to Elias’s objection that the people were not yet ready and that, by embarking on revolution, Ibarra was only preparing a bloodbath for the innocent, was the course that Ibarra attempted to implement in his new role as Simoun—to rouse up the Filipinos to a revolutionary consciousness by stimulating Spanish injustice and abuses while organizing the people of all classes to resist that oppression. But Rizal the novelist shows Simoun’s path to be the wrong one by leading him to failure and to death. More- over, he passes judgment on this path in the words of Padre Florentino. To the dying Simoun’s question as to why a God of justice and freedom had forsaken him in his efforts to bring justice and freedom to his country, Padre Florentino replies: Because you chose a means of which He could not approve. . .. Hate only creates monsters; crime, criminals; only love can work wonders, only virtue redeem. If our country is one day to be free, it will not be through vice and crime, it will not be through the corruption of its sons, some deceived, others bribed; redemption presupposes virtue; virtue, sacrifice; and sacrifice, love.” Simoun then asks the despairing question as to whether Padre Florentino proposes that it is God’s will that the Philippines should continue in its present miserable condition. Rizal gives an answer, at once confident of the justice of the Filipino cause in God’s sight and sure of the direction to be taken, though without knowledge of the detailed means: I know that God has not forsaken those peoples that in time of decision have placed themselves in His hands and made Him the judge of their oppression. I know that His arm has never been wanting when, with Justice trampled under foot and all other resources exhausted, the wed have taken up the sword and fought for .. . their inalienable #. , . God is justice and He cannot abandon His own cause, the cause of freedom without which no justice is possible?”98 Noli Me Taéngere The Filipino people, he says, in the face of oppression must “endure and work.” It is not, however, a passive endurance, but an active resistance to evil and refusal to accept the deprivation of their freedom. But he adds: I do not mean that our freedom is to be won at the point of the sword; the sword counts for little in the destinies of modern times. But itis true that we must win it by deserving it, exalting reason and the dignity of the individual, loving what is just, what is good, what is great, even to the point of dying for it. When the people rises to this height, God provides the weapon, and the idols fall, the tyrants fall like a house of cards, and freedom shines in the first dawn.!? Finally, consistent with the purpose Rizal had set when he wrote the Noli, he places the responsibility on the Filipinos themselves. Our misfortunes are our own fault, let us blame nobody else for them. If Spain were to see us less tolerant of tyranny and readier to fight and suffer for"our rights, Spain would be the first to give us freedom. . . . But as long as the Filipino people donot have sufficient vigor to proclaim, head held high and chest bared, their right to a life of their own in human society, and to guarantee it with their sacrifices, with their very blood . . . why give them jadependeons? With or without Spain they would . Wha Rizal indeed foresees the possibility of bloodshed; he can even conceive a situation in which it would be justified to take up arms. But an armed revolution will not by itself win freedom. The point is not to shed other people’s blood, but to be ready enough to shed one’s own for the people that one will have the courage to resist any attack on human dignity, on the freedom that belongs to every man and woman. Until a people has been built up who are ready to claim, demand, and even die for that dignity and freedom, an armed revolution will not only fail to solve the problem, but perhaps even create a new tyranny. Rizal: Reformist or Revolutionary? Today perhaps it is easier to answer that question than it was a year ago. Over the last couple of decades we had allowed the question to be formulated by thinking springing from a Marxist ideology, and thus put in a constricting and ultimately false di- lemma; to be reformist meant to engage in futile tinkering with the political and economic structures of society through parliamentary NoliMeTéngere 99 means, or even by political bargaining and intrigue. To be revolu- tionary, on the other hand, was to take up arms against the gov- ernment, the establishment, those in power. In February 1986 the Filipino people showed that there was another kind of revolution. I do not know how many of those involved in that revolution were consciously aware of Rizal's ideas, but the fundamental thinking of many who stood in front of the tanks on EDSA was directly in the line of Rizal as he expressed himself through the mouth of Padre Florentino—revolution is not primarily an armed struggle to shed other people’s blood, but a willingness to risk shedding one’s own blood for the sake of the people. I had not aimed to draw parallels with contemporary events. I simply intended to show that Rizal had a consistent view of the Filipino national task that dated back to his Noli; to show that Rizal had been a separatist from early in his career, but one who understood quite clearly the preconditions by which that independ- ence from Spain would mean true freedom and justice. But a reexamination of Rizal’s writings has made clear to me that Rizal's philosophy of revolution has considerable relevance for today. Ironi- cally those who have tried in our country to develop a philosophy of active nonviolent resistance to injustice, though they have of course based themselves primarily on the Gospels, have looked for modern inspiration to figures like Gandhi and Martin Luther King for the most part, and not, as far as I am aware, to Rizal. Yet, in a way even more striking than these men, there is a consistency in Rizal between thought and life. To many the speeches of Padre Florentino have seemed creations of the idealistic novelist’s pen, rhetoric rather than practical pre- scriptions. Rizal was aware of the objection. Though it was not made directly to his face, such criticism had been expressed by one who shared Rizal’s basic nationalist commitment to a free Philip- pines, but sought it by what he considered more practical meth- ods—Marcelo H. del Pilar. When the split between the two men took place in 1891, Del Pilar wrote to his brother-in-law, Deodato Arellano, his judgment of Rizal: “The fact is that my man [Rizal] has been formed in libraries, and in libraries no account is taken of the atmosphere in which one must work.” Rizal’s implicit answer to that criticism followed directly on his second novel. By the end of the year 1891 Rizal was in Hong Kong, ready to go back to the Philippines, for the work of writing was now over; it remained to put Padre Florentino’s ideals into action.”" From the beginning he had insisted with Del Pilar that La Solidari- dad should direct its articles to the Filipinos, not the Spaniards.100 Noli Me Tangere One can see this clearly in all his own articles, especially the major ones, “Sobre la indolencia de los Filipinos” and “Filipinas dentro de cien afios.” But it was not enough to have his ideals proposed to his countrymen in writing; it was necessary to put them into action there in the Philippines. Even as early as 1888 or 1889 he had written to one of his friends in Europe, probably Del Pilar, his convictions: \ Hour countrymen hope in us here in Europe, they are certainly mistaken. ... The help we can give them is our lives in our country. Had I not been unwilling to shorten the lives of my parents, I would not have left the Philippines no matter what happened. Those five months I stayed there were a life of example, a book even better than the Noli me tdngere. The field of battle is the Philippines; there is where we should be found. .. . There we will help each other, there we will suffer united, and perhaps even triumph.” The intimate relation between his months in the Philippines in 1887 and the Noli repeats itself in the Fili and his return to Manila in 1892 to activate the Liga Filipina. In the Liga he would give a concrete exemplification of Padre Florentino’s demand that the Filipinos “must win [freedom] by deserving it, exalting reason and the dignity of the individual, loving what is good, what is great, even to the point of dying for it.” On the one hand, the statutes of the Liga call for national unity, dedication to economic, educational, and other reforms—not begging them from the Spaniards, but the Filipinos undertaking them themselves; on the other, the Filipinos must defend one another against all violence and injustice, must be of recognized moral character, and perhaps most significantly, they must not submit to any humiliation nor treat others in such a way as to humiliate them. Essentially, it is what Rizal had demanded of Filipinos in the Noli as well as the Fili—that Filipinos should act as free men and women, and demand that their dignity as such be recognized by others. When Filipinos are so united into what Rizal calls a “compact, vigorous, and homogeneous body,” then, “the idols and the tyrants will fall like a house of cards.” Recognizing that he could make such demands on his countrymen only if he himself were to give the example, Rizal returned to his homeland, well aware that he was taking his liberty, and perhaps even his life, into his hands. Conclusion No doubt relatively few of those to whom Rizal spoke had per- ceived the whole of his message, and the Liga after his deportation Noli Me Téngere 101 to Dapitan would split into two groups: one still dedicated to the support of Del Pilar’s campaign in Europe; the other, as the Katip- unan, soon turning to armed revolution.” Rizal had already re- jected the first course long ago. Consistent with his long-range and essentially nonviolent view of revolution, he would also refuse his assent to the revolution of 1896, His address to his fellow Filipinos from his prison cell, though undoubtedly hampered by his position as prisoner, retains the ideals of long-range preparation of the nation, and nowhere repudiates his goal of emancipation from Spanish rule, as the Spanish Judge Advocate General at his trial noted in refusing to allow the appeal to be made public.”* His comment that Rizal “limits himself to condemning the present rebellious movement as premature and because he considers its success impossible at this time. . . . For Rizal it is a question of opportunity, not of principles or objectives,” is simplistic and unjust to Rizal’s thought. But he is correct in seeing that Rizal did not condemn revolution as such. Rizal refused to take part in Bonifacio’s revolution not merely because he did not think it could succeed. That was a factor of course; he did not want useless bloodshed. But, consistent with his views from the Noli onward, he maintained to the end that the revolutionary goal was to create a nation of Filipinos conscious of their human and national dignity and ready to sacrifice themselves to defend it. Then God would provide the weapon, and the tyrants would fall like a house of cards. He did not live to see that day. But he had pointed the way for his countrymen to follow, not just with his books, but with his life and with his death.