An Indio’s Rage
Like any individual who excels in a specific field, recognition feels rewarding. More so, if
put in the parameters of Spanish-colonized Philippines in the 19th century. To be more specific,
in the four corners of a classroom where a promdi is dominated by the upperclassmen of his
country’s colonizers. The Mercados were affluent enough to send Jose Rizal to the then Ateneo
Municipal. In one event, little Rizal’s speech, El Consejo de los Dioses, stood out from his mestizo
counterparts. He won yet not a single Spanish boy clapped in recognition of an Indio’s victory. On
another occasion, Rizal forget to salute a lieutenant on his way home. For that unintentional
disrespect, he received three lashes.
These are just some of the many instances in Rizal’s early life that triggered what he
thought needed fixing. Because while he was a polymath, in his scribes and accomplishments, he
was a noble. However, no nobility could equate to colony. His privilege and class status did not
spare him or his family the plight under the ruling power.
As Rizal grew up, he came to be one unhinged bourgeois who, unlike the others, knew how
to use his intellect and connections well. Not for himself, but for his country. The Spaniards were
getting too lenient on how Filipinos were reacting to their control. Everyone’s scared. No one
could go against them without suffering an unfair judgment. The West was stripping Filipinos off
not only of their identity, but of their dignity. Something needed to happen.
And so in the quiet, fear-mongering rule of the Spaniards, Rizal lit a rage of reform through
the most nonviolent way of sparking a revolution. He started writing about the life of a Filipino
under the Spanish governance. In Noli Me Tangere, the story follows a young Filipino traveling
across Europe to study who later grew aware of the injustices happening back home. With
characters reflecting the Spanish friars and the government, the book became suspicious in the
Philippines. When Rizal came back, he was made to explain his book and was given a convoy to
guard his speculative actions.
The subtle watch on Rizal’s back was peaceful for a while until he wrote and published the
constitution of the Liga Filipina, a group clamoring for change amid the Spanish rule out of
frustration from the exploitation and inequality in the Philippines. Due to this, he was summoned
by the government. Three days after his trial, he was sentenced to death for alleged rebellion.
He knew it was coming, the dark days ahead of his life in return of doing something for his
people. On the 30th of December, Rizal walked to Bagumbayan and died with honor.
Rizal, as a writer, penned every drop of his ink in hopes of bringing about change. Rizal,
as a Filipino, was not a martyr, just selfless. Change did come. But like any process of change, it
did not look good. Like any act of selflessness, it cost him something.
Democracy has always had a price. And Rizal willingly payed for it.