"I AM A FILIPINO"
by Carlos P. Romulo
I am a Filipino – inherit or of a glorious past , host age t o t he uncert ain f ut ure. As such, I must
prove equal t o a t wo-f old t ask – t he t ask of meet ing my responsibilit y t o t he past , and t he
t ask of perf orming my obligat ion t o t he f ut ure.
I am sprung f rom a hardy race – child many generat ions removed of ancient Malayan
pioneers. Across t he cent uries, t he memory comes rushing back t o me: of brown-skinned
men put t ing out t o sea in ships t hat were as f rail as t heir heart s were st out . Over t he sea I
see t hem come, borne upon t he billowing wave and t he whist ling wind, carried upon t he
might y swell of hope – hope in t he f ree abundance of t he new land t hat was t o be t heir
home and t heir children’ s f orever.
This is t he land t hey sought and f ound. Every inch of shore t hat t heir eyes f irst set upon,
every hill and mount ain t hat beckoned t o t hem wit h a green and purple invit at ion, every
mile of rolling plain t hat t heir view encompassed, every river and lake t hat promised a
plent if ul living and t he f ruit f ulness of commerce, is a hollowed spot t o me.
By t he st rengt h of t heir heart s and hands, by every right of law, human and divine, t his land
and all t he appurt enances t hereof – t he black and f ert ile soil, t he seas and lakes and rivers
t eeming wit h f ish, t he f orest s wit h t heir inexhaust ible wealt h in wild and t imber, t he
mount ains wit h t heir bowels swollen wit h minerals – t he whole of t his rich and happy land
has been f or cent uries wit hout number, t he land of my f at hers. This land I received in t rust
f rom t hem, and in t rust will pass it t o my children, and so on unt il t he world is no more.
I am a Filipino. In my blood runs t he immort al seed of heroes – seed t hat f lowered down t he
cent uries in deeds of courage and def iance. In my veins yet pulses t he same hot blood t hat
sent Lapulapu t o bat t le against t he alien f oe, t hat drove Diego Silang and Dagohoy int o
rebellion against t he f oreign oppressor,
That seed is immort al. It is t he self -same seed t hat f lowered in t he heart of Jose Rizal t hat
morning in Bagumbayan when a volley of shot s put an end t o all t hat was mort al of him and
made his spirit deat hless f orever; t he same t hat f lowered in t he heart s of Bonif acio in
Balint awak, of Gregorio del Pilar at Tirad Pass, of Ant onio Luna at Calumpit , t hat bloomed in
f lowers of f rust rat ion in t he sad heart of Emilio Aguinaldo at Palanan, and yet burst f ort h
royally again in t he proud heart of Manuel L. Quezon when he st ood at last on t he t hreshold
of ancient Malacanang Palace, in t he symbolic act of possession and racial vindicat ion.
The seed I bear wit hin me is an immort al seed. It is t he mark of my manhood, t he symbol of
my dignit y as a human being. Like t he seeds t hat were once buried in t he t omb of
Tut ankhamen many t housands of years ago, it shall grow and f lower and bear f ruit again. It
is t he insigne of my race, and my generat ion is but a st age in t he unending search of my
people f or f reedom and happiness.
I am a Filipino, child of t he marriage of t he East and t he West . The East , wit h it s languor
and myst icism, it s passivit y and endurance, was my mot her, and my sire was t he West t hat
came t hundering across t he seas wit h t he Cross and Sword and t he Machine. I am of t he
East , an eager part icipant in it s st ruggles f or liberat ion f rom t he imperialist yoke. But I know
also t hat t he East must awake f rom it s cent uried sleep, shake of f t he let hargy t hat has
bound it s limbs, and st art moving where dest iny await s.
For I, t oo, am of t he West , and t he vigorous peoples of t he West have dest royed f orever t he
peace and quiet t hat once were ours. I can no longer live, a being apart f rom t hose whose
world now t rembles t o t he roar of bomb and cannon shot . For no man and no nat ion is an
island, but a part of t he main, and t here is no longer any East and West – only individuals
and nat ions making t hose moment ous choices t hat are t he hinges upon which hist ory
revolves.
At t he vanguard of progress in t his part of t he world I st and – a f orlorn f igure in t he eyes of
some, but not one def eat ed and lost . For t hrough t he t hick, int erlacing branches of habit
and cust om above me I have seen t he light of t he sun, and I know t hat it is good. I have seen
t he light of j ust ice and equalit y and f reedom, my heart has been lif t ed by t he vision of
democracy, and I shall not rest unt il my land and my people shall have been blessed by
t hese, beyond t he power of any man or nat ion t o subvert or dest roy.
I am a Filipino, and t his is my inherit ance. What pledge shall I give t hat I may prove wort hy
of my inherit ance? I shall give t he pledge t hat has come ringing down t he corridors of t he
cent uries, and it s hall be compounded of t he j oyous cries of my Malayan f orebears when
t hey f irst saw t he cont ours of t his land loom bef ore t heir eyes, of t he bat t le cries t hat have
resounded in every f ield of combat f rom Mact an t o Tirad Pass, of t he voices of my people
when t hey sing:
Land of t he morning.
Child of t he sun ret urning . . .
Ne’ er shall invaders
Trample t hy sacred shore.
Out of t he lush green of t hese seven t housand isles, out of t he heart -st rings of sixt een
million people all vibrat ing t o one song, I shall weave t he might y f abric of my pledge. Out of
t he songs of t he f armers at sunrise when t hey go t o labor in t he f ields; out t he sweat of t he
hard-bit t en pioneers in Mal-ig and Koronadal; out of t he silent endurance of st evedores at
t he piers and t he ominous grumbling of peasant s in Pampanga; out of t he f irst cries of
babies newly born and t he lullabies t hat mot hers sing; out of crashing of gears and t he
whine of t urbines in t he f act ories; out of t he crunch of ploughs upt urning t he eart h; out of
t he limit less pat ience of t eachers in t he classrooms and doct ors in t he clinics; out of t he
t ramp of soldiers marching, I shall make t he pat t ern of my pledge:
I am a Filipino born of f reedom, and I shall not rest unt il f reedom shall have been added
unt o my inherit ance – f or myself and my children’ s – f orever.
___________________
Carlos Peña Romulo (b. 14 January 1899, Camiling, Tarlac, Philippines - d. 15 December 1985, Manila, Philippines) was
a Filipino diplomat , polit ician, soldier, j ournalist and aut hor. He was a report er at 16, a newspaper edit or by t he age
of 20, and a publisher at 32. He is t he co-f ounder of t he Boy Scout s of t he Philippines.
He was a general in t he Philippine army, who t oget her wit h General Douglas McArt hur landed on t he shore of Leyt e t o
liberat e t he Philippines f rom t he Japanese occupat ion.
He was t he signat ory f or t he Philippines t o t he Unit ed Nat ions Chart er when it was f ounded in 1946. He was a
candidat e f or t he posit ion of Unit ed Nat ions Secret ary-General in 1953.
He died, at 86, in Manila on 15t h of December 1985 and was buried t he Heroes’ Cemet ery (Libingan ng mga Bayani).
He was honored as t he Philippines’ great est diplomat in t he 20t h Cent ury. [ cit at ion needed] In 1980, he was ext olled
by Unit ed Nat ions Secret ary-General Kurt Waldheim as "Mr. Unit ed Nat ions" f or his valuable services t o t he Unit ed
Nat ions and his dedicat ion t o f reedom and world peace.
Ref.: http://artepinas.blogspot.com/2010/09/i-am-filipino.html