G.

Bankoff
Selective memory and collective forgetting. Historiography and the Philippine centennial of 1898
In: Bijdragen tot de Taal-, Land- en Volkenkunde, The PhilippinesHistorical and social studies 157
(2001), no: 3, Leiden, 539-560

This PDF-file was downloaded from http://www.kitlv-journals.nl

GREG BANKOFF

Selective Memory and

Collective Forgetting
Historiography and the Philippine Centennial
of 1898
The fanfare and extravaganza with which the centennial of the Revolution of
1896-1898 was celebrated in the Philippines serves largely to obscure the surprising lack of unanimity concerning the significance of the occasion or even
the purpose of the festivities. Philippine history, more especially the historiography of its colonial period, poses some particular problems in serving as
the basis from which to fashion an identity suitable to the modern citizens of
a nation-state. These problems are not restricted to the Philippines, but the
combination of features is certainly specific to the history of that nation and
differentiates its historiography from that of others in the region. Attention
has long been drawn to the unique geographical location and cultural experience of the islands; indeed D.G.E. Hall even omitted the Philippines from the
first edition of his seminal history of Southeast Asia (Hall 1955). But these
observations on their own offer no insuperable obstacle to the creation of a
national historiography. Far more significant is the lack of appropriate historical experiences whose symbolic value make of them suitable rallying
points round which a counter-hegemonic and anti-colonial historiography
can coalesce and flourish.1
The history of nations is always presented in the form of a narrative, the
fulfilment of a project that stretches back over the centuries along which are
moments of coming to self-awareness that prove to be decisive in the selfmanifestation of national personality (Balibar 1991:86; Bhabha 1990:1). The
origin or starting point from which this national history commences is
imbued with special significance and, with the exception of those states
which may wish to establish their validity on a radical break with the past
(though even here the role of the distant past is often somewhat ambiguous1

Material for this article is drawn from Post-colonial national identity in the Philippines;
Celebrating the centennial of Independence (Bankoff and Weekley forthcoming).

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Greg Bankoff

ly depicted),2 there is an attempt to demonstrate longevity, as if pedigree

somehow confers upon a nation-state a greater degree of legitimacy. A classical past, preferably one strewn with the monumental remains of an illustrious civilization, or an impressive citadel of more recent regal authority, is a
useful referent.3 Thus Borobudur, Angkor Wat, Pagan or Ayuthia and Hue or
Vientiane have been gainfully evoked as important symbols aiding in the
construction of a modern sense of national identity in Indonesia, Cambodia,
Myanmar, Thailand, Vietnam and Laos. In still other cases, religion or creed
has proved to be just such a medium, as with Islam in Malaysia and Brunei
or neo-Confucianism in Singapore.
The 'problem' of Philippine history

Philippine history, unfortunately, provides no such expedient agents: there

are no indigenous monuments, citadels or palaces, nor even a suitable naturalized creed.4 Worse, what relics of the past there are - some few dozen
churches, forts or bridges - have their origin in the colonial period and,
though built with native labour, were constructed at the instigation of the colonizing power. Moreover, Filipinos are the only peoples of Southeast Asia to
have mainly embraced the religion of their erstwhile overlords: over 80 per
cent of Filipinos are Catholics, some 90 per cent Christian. A common religion
shared between colonizer and colonized deprives a people of a useful medium through which to express nationalist sentiment (Renan 1990:10).5 As
much by default, then, as by any sense of conviction, this leaves the Revolution of 1896-1898 as the only really 'legitimizing principle' or 'foundational
event in the history of the nation' (Ileto 1998:195,241), and one, too, that raises as many questions about the nature of that national identity as it seemingly provides answers for its citizens.
Apart from the difficulties inherent in the interpretation of individual
2

The People's Republic of China has continued to venerate traditional heroic characters such
as Ch'u Yuan, Han Kao-tso, Wu Tse-t'ien and even Confucius (Crozier 1977:4).
3
See, for example, Elizabeth Nissan's essay on the changing symbolic value of the sacred
city of Anuradhapura in Sri Lankan historiography (Nissan 1997:23-41).
4
Eduardo Gonzalez, a fellow at the Institute for Popular Democracy, holds 'an accident of
geography' that isolated the archipelago from the mainstream of Asian civilizations responsible
for this state of affairs and maintains that the entire socio-cultural configuration of the
Philippines was determined 'by a void of compelling dimension' (Gonzalez n.d.:3).
5
Christianity played a somewhat analogous role in East Timor under Portuguese colonialism, but then Catholicism provided an important nationalist referent during the Indonesian
occupation of the country 1975-1999. Pat Smythe argues that after 400 years of Portuguese colonial rule less than 30 per cent of the population were formally registered as Catholic, while 90
per cent of the people presently declare that affiliation (Smythe 1998:153-4).

Selective Memory and Collective Forgetting

actions or particular historical incidents, the problem posed by the
Revolution is that it does not signify a radical enough break with the past, not
independence but merely a change in colonial regimes. As a consequence, the
periodization of Philippine history is frequently divided along cultural lines:
an indigenous period followed by a Spanish and then an American one
before a different nomenclature is employed. This preoccupation with the
cultural distinctiveness of the colonial administrations serves somewhat to
obscure the ethnic tensions within the archipelago and confers a false sense
of unity upon its peoples. Rather than emphasizing the diversity of the historical experience, the focus is on the evolution of the state and manifestations of modernity, both of which are irrevocably associated with colonial
rule, despite evidence that such was not the case for significant cultural and
ethnic communities within the Philippines. Moreover, as the conception of
modernity is increasingly constructed around notions of democracy and capitalist competitiveness derived from North American cultural norms, Spanish colonialism has become typecast and contrasted unfavourably with that
of the United States. The advent of US domination is explained not only as a
result of the decline and decadence of Spain but also as a necessary social,
cultural and economic step in the preparation of Filipinos for true nationhood. That is, while the Spanish period is irredeemably associated with colonial oppression, the years of American occupation are much more ambiguously portrayed, often being equated with modernization.
And then there are the events of the Revolution itself, fraught with all
kinds of compromises, betrayals and questionable decisions that make of it
at times a less than epic struggle and its course far from glorious. Nor does
history throw up an all-encompassing national figure to whom the attributes
of a founding father can unequivocally be attributed. Jose Rizal most closely
approximates this role, but his attitude towards the revolutionary struggle
was ambiguous and his image has been somewhat compromised, whether
fairly or unfairly, by the taint of US colonizers, who found in the figure of the
reformist doctor a suitable exemplar upon which to fix the aspirations of a
newly vanquished people. The other main contenders, Andres Bonifacio and
Emilio Aguinaldo, are equally problematic: the former, despite his undoubted idealism, proved incompetent, and the latter, despite his competence, proved too pragmatic and is held responsible for the execution of
Bonifacio and the signing of the truce of Biak-na-bato.6 The acrimonious
6

Bonifacio was court-martialed and sentenced to death on the charge of sedition in May
1897. Though the sentence was subsequently commuted to indefinite exile and imprisonment,
he and his brother were nonetheless executed on 10 May. The truce of Biak-na-bato was signed
in November 1897 in which the Spanish paid the sum of 400,000 pesos in return for the surrender of rebel arms and the exile of Aguinaldo and other members of the Revolutionary Committee to Hong Kong.

541

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Greg Bankojf

debate in recent years over the validity of the historical evidence and the
nature of their respective characters discounts either from serving as a unifying national role model (Ileto 1998:203-37; Churchill 1997; May 1997).
Then there is the question of participation among the different ethnic
groups of the archipelago: not every Filipino can derive his descent from
forefathers who fought in the Revolution. Significant national minorities,
Muslims in the south, the tribal peoples of the Cordillera and ethnic Chinese,
did not really participate in the events of 1896-1898. A modern state apparatus that seeks to normalize its people into an undifferentiated body of citizens by imbuing specific historical events with nationalist symbolism may
unwittingly call attention to notions of difference based on ethnic, regional or
religious origins that have often served as the foundations upon which colonial rule was established. Such symbols, in fact, may only reinforce contemporary struggles for separate identities (Chatterjee 1993:33) and may even
lead to the construction of counter-ethnicities and to demands for counterstates based on counter-nationalisms (Appadurai 1993:415). In the final
analysis the Philippine Revolution was a failure, marking not the birth of a
nation (in anything more than a symbolic sense) but an ensuing period of
colonial rule that endured for another 48 years. More than any other aspect
of the Revolution, it was this lack of success that problematized the celebration of the centennial of national independence in 1998.
The imperative to produce 'a people' that are 'nationals' is mainly the product of the late 19th- and early 20th-century nation-state. According to Etienne
Balibar, this is a process that involves converting the external frontiers of a
state into the 'internal frontiers' of self-ascription. But tensions inevitably arise
between the concept of an 'ideal nation' and the notion of fictive ethnicity that
seeks to make of the population a natural community as much in the past as
in the present and future (Balibar 1991:92-6). Philippine history in general and
the Revolution of 1896-1898 in particular pose certain problems in the production of a fictive national ethnicity. The ability of the colonial state, more
especially the American regime, to enumerate the peoples of the archipelago
not only established clear limits or boundaries to the national estate but also
divided them into discrete communities. Both Spaniard and American viewed
Philippine society as a 'melange of communities'; they were unable to countenance the idea that subject peoples could constitute a single political community or nation as did 'advanced western peoples' (Chatterjee 1993:223-4).
The national successor to the colonial state has proved unable to convince Filipinos that they constitute a single cultural community or to merge them into
a larger more modern political identity. Seeking recourse in the Revolution of
1896-1898 as the foundational event in the history of the nation only reinforces
the ethnic divisions within society and ensures that modern politics 'continues
to run along channels excavated by colonial discourse' (Chatterjee 1993:224).

Selective Memory and Collective Forgetting

543

The politics of patronage

As Partha Chatterjee writes, the mode of recalling the past, the power of representing oneself 'is nothing other than political power itself' (1993:76). The
ability of a mainly Tagalog and Christian Manila-based ruling class to extend
their patronage back through time, to fashion the past by creating an 'official
history', allows them to determine the values to be attached to the revolutionary experience and so to define the terms upon which modern nationalism is constructed. While there is a measure of dissension as to the particulars of this definition and how various historical incidents should be
represented or importance accorded to specific individuals, there is little real
dispute over what constitutes the basis of this national identity - democracy
and competitive economic development. However, neither the sense of
democracy nor the manner of development is precisely what they are made
out to be: the first is tainted by oligarchy, the second is often far from deregulated market-driven decision making, despite the rhetoric. What is important
for this official view of the past is that these values are established as the prevailing credentials and that the historical record is made to conform to their
dictates. So the Revolution of 1896-1898 has to be interpreted in such a way
that it promotes democracy and establishes the preconditions for economic
development. At the same time, separate or local histories need to be incorporated within the larger nationalist account so as to present them as part of
the 'natural past' of the archipelago, one whose boundaries match those of
the modern nation-state.
While the democracy that is expounded by this Manila-based elite is modelled on the Western democratic tradition, it is not participatory but oligarchic in form. It narrowly defines the concept of freedom as a political
process that effectively makes an electorate decide between two contending
factions of the elite for leadership.7 Establishing the past democratic credentials of the nation thereby takes on added importance as a means of legitimizing the present governing institutions and, indirectly, those who control
them. Accordingly, the Revolution is presented not simply as a struggle to
cast off colonial bondage but as the principal event in the evolution of a
democratic tradition from which all subsequent developments can be traced.
The Revolution heralded the birth of 'the Filipino nation as a land of freedom-loving people' (Centennial celebration 1997:12), a state of mind, which,
according to President Ramos, could only be realized through 'the logic of
democracy' (Maragay 1998:1). Moreover, as the first democratic republic in
Asia, the Philippines is credited with becoming the 'father of independence'
7

This notion of democracy is not that necessarily favoured by the great majority of poor or
less educated Filipinos (Canieso-Doronila 1997:70).

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Greg Bankoff

to the rest of Asia and, in turn, inspiring freedom in Africa (RP 1998:5).8
Not only does the Revolution establish the Philippines' credentials among
developing nations, but it also permits the struggle to be seen in a somewhat
different light: not as defeat on the battlefield and ensuing colonial bondage
but as the commencement of a process of constitutional tutelage under US
administration. In fact, the history of the hundred years following 1898 are
recast along these lines. Thus, despite the proclamation of the first republic
under the authoritarian leadership of General Emilio Aguinaldo, Filipinos
'did not linger too long in a dictatorship' but immediately sought 'constitutional legitimacy'. The four decades of US colonialism only channelled the
struggle for freedom into the parliamentary arena where it achieved political
fruition in 1946. It was this democratic tradition that was mainly responsible
for the economic success of the Philippines during the 1960s. If development
subsequently lagged behind the other emerging nations of Asia in the 1970s
and 1980s, this, too, is blamed on 'the detour toward authoritarianism from
1972-86' {Celebration 1998). But the spirit of a freedom-loving people is impossible to suppress for long and the 'aberration' of the Marcos years was
soon swept away by the EDSA9 Revolution, whose 'people power' restored
Filipino history to its true course and 'indirectly set the stage for freedom in
Russia and Eastern Europe' (RP 1998:5). Martial law not only legitimized the
1986 Constitution and its presidents as the restorers of democracy, but it also
served to discredit 'the Asian values model' to which was attributed the 'cultural camouflage' for disguising dictatorship {Celebration 1998). The proof of
all this is held to be manifest in the smooth transition of power from Fidel
Ramos to Joseph Estrada in 1998, that proved to the world how deeply Filipinos 'value the ideals and practice of constitutional democracy' (Maragay
1998:2; Raymundo 1998:6).
Hand in hand with democracy goes 'faith' in economic growth. Indeed,
the two 'must come together and work together'; Filipinos express a natural
desire 'to be free and to prosper' (Maragay 1998:1; Raymundo 1998:1).
Development, however, remains more of a future promise than a present
reality, the greener valley that lies just over the other side of the hill or the
other side of the millennium {Run-up 1997:8). Nevertheless, it is just as integral to the construction of a sense of national identity as democracy, ultimately
providing the raison d'etre to justify the entire oligarchic structure of political
power in the country. According to President Ramos, only democracy can
lead 'to sustained economic growth and social progress' (Maragay 1998:1).
8

Speech made by Speaker of the House of Representatives, Jose de Venecia, at a Centennial

flag-raising ceremony on 12 June 1998 at the Andres Bonifacio monument along EDSA in
Caloocan City.
9
EDSA is the abbreviation of Epifanio De Los Santos Avenue, the main ring-road around
Manila and named after the first Filipino member of the Spanish Royal Academy in Madrid.

Selective Memory and Collective Forgetting

Just as a century ago the Revolution offered 'a beacon to the peoples of Asia
and the whole world', so today the Philippines offers 'a model of development' based on 'freedom of enterprise' (Beacon to the world 1998).
However, it is not simply economic growth as such but the underlying
assumption of a competitive deregulated market that demonstrates its efficacy as a development model. And its success is something that can be measured. The Philippine economy grew by seven per cent in 1996, up from one
per cent in 1994, and employment rose to 91.7 per cent of the workforce (De
Venecia 1997:5). So the Centennial was not only a celebration of political freedom and democratic values, but of economic freedom and competitiveness
in the market place. Just as 1998 commemorated the birth of the Philippine
nation after more than three centuries of Spanish colonial rule, so the year
also signalled the 'historic exit' of the Philippine economy after more than
three decades of 'constraints' imposed by the International Monetary Fund.10
'In a very real sense, today the Filipino is not only politically free but economically free, after 35 years of IMF tutelage and control', declared Speaker
De Venecia (1998). Moreover, the initial ability of the Philippines to better
withstand the financial turmoil that swept through East Asia in 1997 was
largely attributed to the 'freewheeling' nature of Philippine democracy, which
precisely combined the qualities of these freedoms (Raymundo 1998:l).n
The ability of a Manila-based elite to exert their patronage over the past
and to project on history an interpretation that mainly reflects their image of
national identity depends to a large extent on their ability to manipulate the
media. This is an endeavour of no small order in a country where the media
are relatively independent, to the extent that they are privately owned and
operated, and characterized by a multiplicity of outlets. The press alone comprises 25 or so national daily newspapers divided between the more serious
English-language broadsheets and the more popular tabloid press in the vernacular, all engaged in fierce competition for readership and advertising revenue. In the absence of more direct means of control, media releases on the
various commemorative events were disseminated by a specially established
media bureau, the Centennial Information Center (CIC). At the height of its
activities in the weeks immediately preceding the June 12 celebrations, the
CIC issued as many as seven press releases a day on the activities of the
National Centennial Commission (NCC), the principal government coordinating agency. As the Center's director, Jesus Matubis, himself a televi-

10

An event achieved on 27 March 1998 with the passage through Congress of the Comprehensive Tax Reform Package and the Oil Deregulation Law.
11
The economy's subsequent poor performance in contrast to the recovery evident in many
of its neighbours is largely blamed on the highly personalistic and idiosyncratic decisions of the
since deposed President Estrada.

545

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Greg Bankoff

sion executive at Channel 4, explains: 'We didn't have access to the public
except through the newspapers, the radio and TV programmes. That's why
our main target, really our primary target, was not the people but the media.'
(Matubis 1998)
However, to successfully disseminate information on the Centennial, the
CIC had first to package its product in such a way as to 'entice' the media to
carry its releases. Matubis described the role of his agency as one of 'transforming' Philippine history into what he termed 'chewable chunks', simplified episodes that might more readily be appreciated by the public (Matubis
1998). In the process of contextualizing history for the short temporal constraints of the modern media (colour slide, 30-second radio break or 60-second television spot), the Revolution was often reduced to a visual image with
little or no explanatory commentary: the emotional or stirring moment like
the raising of the flag in victory at Alapan, the proclamation of independence
at Kawit, the signing of the Malolos Constitution, which could so easily be
made to engender the desired feeling or 'message'. Matubis was adamant
that 'politics' was not a factor determining the emphasis placed on the presentation of the historical material, but his denial only reveals the probable
bias of those among the elite who made such decisions:
Question: 'Do you think the political administration influenced what was celebrated?'
Matubis: 'No, no. I didn't think that happened. What I think the NCC was really
focused on was that the Centennial was celebrated properly and I am happy to
note, so far as the Commission members were concerned, and they represented
the spectrum of the community, because you had members of the administration,
members of the opposition, you had members of the academe, all sectors were
represented in the NCC, I do not think that politics entered into why we should
emphasize this, why we should not emphasize that. There was no such thing,
okay? I think the Commission was neutral in that sense.' (Matubis 1998)12
The resultant media coverage of the Centennial stressed the values of a
democratic heritage and the promise of a competitive economic future. These
qualities of national identity were celebrated as the principal distinguishing
characteristics of the Filipino and were assumed to underlie the nation's distinctiveness from its Asian neighbours. Whether these views were generally
accepted by the majority of people as the basis of their sense of citizenship is
difficult to gauge. The Centennial had to compete for space in the media with
national and local elections in 1998, which deprived the event of mass cover12
The other sectors included corporate managers, army generals and 'women leaders'. Later
representatives of the Tribal and Muslim communities were added, but whether they 'contributed a lot to the Commission is a different thing [...] but at least in terms of the structure,
there was a voice' (Tan 1998).

Selective Memory and Collective Forgetting

547

age except in the last few weeks preceding the anniversary of the actual
proclamation of independence.13 But it also had to contend with a generally
low level of historical consciousness among the population. As a consequence, public speakers often had to resort to high levels of hyperbole in
order to excite a sense of nationalism. However, as the eminent Filipino historian Onofre Corpuz notes, such rhetoric 'does not penetrate to the guts of
our people and the message from an independence day oration dies out
before the echoes have faded away in Manila's polluted air' (Corpuz 1998:4).

Selective memory and collective forgetting

Eric Hobsbawm draws attention to the manner in which institutions purposely set about 'inventing traditions' - sets of practices of a ritual or symbolic nature that inculcate certain values and norms of behaviour through
repetition, which claim to be old but are often of quite recent origin - as if the
appearance of continuity with the past establishes legitimacy and confers
upon that body a sense of authenticity (Hobsbawm 1983:1-14). But remembrance is not the only instrument at the command of a state that may employ
commemoration more as a cloak to obscure than to recall the past. In fact, forgetting may be just as potent a collective act in creating a sense of group
identity as the more frequently assigned role of shared memory. Nor are
these social processes mutually exclusive: both may be at work within the
same extended community at the same time among different sectors or
classes. These processes of selective memory and collective forgetting are
particularly evident in the official historiography of the Philippine centennial
celebrations. Certain key dates or figures were chosen for commemoration
and others were quietly overlooked, while little reference was made to the
central role played by the United States in overthrowing the First Republic or
to the subsequent Philippine-American War.
A central issue in this respect is what Independence Day on 12 June actually commemorates. First there is the question of substituting the current
date for 4 July, a change made by President Macapagal in 1962 as an act of
national assertion in the face of continuing US influence in the Philippines
after 1946. Regardless of whether his motives were more political than nationalist, his action necessitated finding a historical substitute to serve as an
appropriate alternative.14 The decision to commemorate General Aguinaldo's
13

A notable exception was the Philippine Daily Inquirer, which commenced a 100-day countdown to the 12 June celebrations with a daily column of historical vignettes written by Ambeth
Ocampo.
14
President Macapagal's decision (Proclamation 28 of 12 May 1962) was made in the context
of public indignation at the US Congress's rejection of a bill authorizing an additional appro-

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Greg Bankoff

1898 proclamation of independence seems to have been determined partly as

a consequence of the spontaneous popular celebrations that took place at
Kawit each year, and partly as the result of a concerted campaign by the
Philippine Historical Association (PHA) to have such a change of date
made.15 Subsequently, however, both the historical significance and the
nationalist credentials of the event have become the subject of considerable
public debate. It is argued that 12 June represents nothing more than the declaration of a dictatorial government, one, moreover, proclaimed under the
protectorate of the United States. It also gives a misleading notion of independence, since no foreign power accorded it diplomatic recognition. Finally,
if it does mark any centennial, it is that of the past hundred years of ilustrado
(oligarchic) hegemony over the nation's political structures (Constantino
1998).
Instead, alternative dates have been proposed that celebrate events more
truly representative of popular nationalist consciousness. One is the outbreak
of revolution in 1896 and another is the inauguration of the Philippine Republic at Malolos on 23 January 1899. The first occasion commemorates the
Katipunan and gives greater prominence to the actions of Andres Bonifacio
and the masses with which he is closely identified. It heralds a chain of
events that ultimately led to the defeat of Spanish colonialism through the
endurance and self-sacrifice of thousands of ordinary people. The second
incident symbolizes the brief moment of unity when Filipinos of all social
backgrounds stood together to declare to the world their sovereign determination to be free and to be a nation. The NCC, however, chose to pass over
both these dates, reasoning that either one would only underscore the extent
to which the Revolution is presently misrepresented or has been betrayed in
the past. Just as today's descendants of the ilustrados (many of them holding
directorates in the very same commission) transformed 1896 into the much
less controversial centenary of Jose Rizal's martyrdom, so their erstwhile
forefathers had quickly abandoned their pro-independence stance to become
the eager collaborators of American colonialists (Constantino 1998). It is this
'distortion1 of history that helps explain the 'confusion' over the Centennial's
significance and is said to be behind the disappointing lack of popular enthu-

priation of US$73 million in war payments to the Philippines, a cut that was later restored. There
were also more practical difficulties in sharing a national day with the United States, as foreign
diplomats would inevitably choose to attend the functions held at American rather than
Philippine embassies (Manalo 1998:2).
15
The PHA's campaign included a series of public seminars and a resolution petitioning the
President and Congress for the adoption of this change made on 24 March 1960. Professor
Gabriel Fabella is credited with initiating this movement by publishing an article entitled
'Philippine Independence, June 12th or July 4th in the Sunday Times Magazine on 1 July 1956
(Historian's Role 1998:1, 6).

Selective Memory and Collective Forgetting

549

siasm shown towards the celebrations (No need 1998:2).

Another aspect of this selective memory manifests itself in the intense
partisan rivalry between the supporters of Aguinaldo and Bonifacio for historical prominence as revolutionary heroes. On one level this is simply a dispute between the family descendants of one man or the other, and as such it
can be dismissed as inter-elite rivalry, a re-enactment of the Magdalo Magdiwang division16 intensified by a century of familial resentment (Quezon
1997). But, on a deeper level of symbolism, it does represent a more profound
division within society between the haves and have-nots, between oligarchy
and proletariat, which lends itself very readily to class analysis in a society
that is still experiencing an active communist insurgency. President Ramos's
denial of a petition to have Bonifacio declared the first president of the
Philippines and accord him a state burial in July 1994 (Gonzalez 1996:24), the
absence of a single paper on his life or significance during the officially sponsored three-day international conference convened at the historic Manila
Hotel in 1996,17 and the number of Aguinaldo family descendants appointed
as members of the NCC only confirmed suspicions that there was a concerted attempt during the Centennial to play down the importance of the more
radical nature of the revolution.18
Collective forgetfulness, on the other hand, is particularly evident in the
absence of any but the most fleeting of references to either the more than four
decades of US colonialism or the Philippine-American War, a conflict that
cost the lives of over 600,000 Filipinos and involved 126,000 American soldiers, three-quarters of the US army. Renato Constantino, former university
professor and author of the influential history of the islands, The Past Revisited, argues that the relatively scant attention paid to the anniversary of the
inauguration of the Philippine Republic in 1899 is an attempt to downplay
the embarrassing fact that it owes its destruction to American aggression and
colonial expansion. Any commemoration that might bring into sharp relief
the Filipino experience of the war would 'put in perspective the real beginnings of Philippine-American relations' and place 'the very notion of national
independence into question' (Constantino 1998). Indeed, President Ramos's
reticence to acknowledge America's colonial role was noted, and when
pressed to make a comment, he described Philippine-American relations as
16

The rival Katipunan councils that controlled the province of Cavite.

The theme of the conference was The Philippine Revolution and Beyond and was a lavish
affair that included over 90 speakers from 23 countries. An entire day was devoted to papers on
Rizal. Conference contributions have subsequently been published in a two volume edition
(Ordonez 1998).
18
A public declaration made by both families at the unveiling of a new monument to Bonifacio in Manila to put an end to their animosity while calling for unity received no official or
media attention (Quezon 1998).
17

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Greg Bankoff

'bittersweet'. On a rare public occasion when he made reference to the less

well-known heroes of the war, leaders such as Generals Macario Sakay and
Julian Miguel Malvar, the former of whom was subsequently hanged by the
Americans as a bandolero (bandit),19 he carefully qualified this recognition by
devoting three of seven paragraphs to a eulogy on the special relationship
with the United States. After only a few years of fighting and bloodshed, he
remarked in his Centennial address, 'our two countries realized that they
could be allies and brothers in the name of freedom' (Mercene 1998:1, 8).
An issue that has the potential of unravelling this careful fabric of purposeful oversight and selective remembrance and forcing a more balanced
account of Philippine-American relations into the public arena is that of the
bells of Balangiga, a small coastal town on the Visayan island of Samar. There
on the morning of 28 September 1901, townsfolk and men from General
Vicente Lukban's guerrilla army suddenly fell upon Company C of the US
Army's 9th Infantry Regiment as they were eating breakfast, killing 45 and
wounding a further 22 soldiers. The action, condemned by the Americans as
a 'treacherous massacre' in which men dressed as women and carrying the
coffins of children had smuggled rifles into the church the previous night,
prompted a swift reprisal. A punitive force sacked the town, killing those
whom they found, and carrying away as booty two church bells with which
the signal to attack had apparently been sounded. The bells were subsequently shipped back to the United States where they presently grace the
parade ground at Warren Air Force Base (formerly Fort Russell) in Cheyenne,
Wyoming, all but forgotten relics of a little-remembered war.20 But, in this
instance, the bells have not been forgotten in the Philippines, where attempts
to have them returned began as early as 1912 and have continued ever since,
most recently with a request for their restoration in time for the 12 June celebrations.21 However, the resolute opposition of the American Legion, the US
veterans' organization, has ensured that all such claims have so far remained
unheeded.
Much more success has crowned the campaign to have Washington
change its official nomenclature concerning the Philippine Revolution and
the Philippine-American War. Filipinos have long complained of the
19

Any Filipino resistance fighter who refused to surrender was classified as a bandit after the
passage of the Bandolerismo Act by the US Philippine Commission in 1902 and consequently
subject to execution or 20 years imprisonment. For the histories of some of the most notable of
these leaders, see Orlino Ochosa (1995).
20
The history of the Philippine-American War is reputedly not taught in US schools (De La
Cruz 1998).
21
Among the eminent people who have petitioned for the bells' return are the historian, Fr.
Horacio de la Costa (1958) and former President Fidel Ramos (1993-1994 and again in 1997) (De
La Cruz 1998; Silva 1997).

Selective Memory and Collective Forgetting

American custom of labelling the two together as the Philippine Insurrection,
with its implication that the revolutionaries were simply bandoleros engaged
in brigandage and not freedom fighters seeking to liberate their country from
the yoke of foreign rule. Senate President Bias Ople even authored a resolution (SR348) calling on President Estrada to commence diplomatic initiatives
to have the American government correct its texts so as to recognize the
events as 'a genuine war of independence on the same moral plane as the
American Revolution against the British crown and the French Revolution
against the ancien regime in France' (Atencio 1999a). Others have called for
much more drastic gestures.22 More militant voices vowed to collect five million signatures demanding that the US apologize for the alleged war crimes
and atrocities committed by its troops, who they claimed killed more Filipinos during the first two days of the war than had died at the hands of the
entire Spanish army during the more than 300 years of colonial rule (Atencio
1999b)! While no apology has so far been forthcoming, the Library of Congress has amended the subject headings of its catalogues accordingly (Ople
1999).23 Cynics may find in this timely consciousness of political correctness
(one hundred years after the events in question) some connection with consideration of the Republic of the Philippines-United States Visiting Forces
Agreement, which required a two-thirds (16-vote) majority to be ratified by

the Senate (Casayuran 1999).

Politics aside, what is being postulated here is a revision of Philippine history that is, at the same time, more stridently nationalist and also far more
radical. Often these positions mutually reinforce one another, but there is a
tendency for the former to subsume the latter. Aguinaldo was both a member of the bourgeoisie and a stooge propped up by foreign powers; the revolution was both lost and betrayed; and the Centennial, as presently constituted, is nothing more than a celebration of 'the coming of the Americans to
the Philippines', according to academics such as Zeus Salazar24 (Santillan
1995:1). While xenophobia is never very far from the terminology of the
extreme nationalists, these criticisms of the official history do challenge the
oligarchic nature of power structures in the contemporary Philippines and
question the extent to which Filipinos exercise real democratic choice.
Moreover, by casting doubt on the democratic credentials of the present state,
22

These come from specifically y o u t h a n d cause-orientated groups such as the Bagong

Alyansang Makabayan a n d the Sentenaryo ng Sambayanan.
23
As the librarian, James H . Billington, advised in his letter of 11 February 1999: 'As part of
our regular subject review process, o u r Cataloging Policy Office investigated the terminology
used for these events. Based o n these findings, the Library reversed the t w o relevant subject
headings to Philippine History - Revolution 1896-1899 a n d Philippine History - Philippine
American War'.
24
Professor of European History a n d Anthropology at the University of the Philippines.

551

552

Greg Bankoff

they also effectively contest whether it can create the conditions necessary for
sustained economic development.25
Apart from the nationalist and radical critiques, there are a multiplicity of
other dissenting voices in the contemporary Philippines that dispute the official history of the Centennial. The Roman Catholic clergy, feminists and ethnic minorities, each in their own way, also challenge the construction of
national identity based on an oligarchic concept of democracy and a deregulated market economy (Bankoff and Weekley forthcoming:Chapter 4). However, their failure to sustain a meaningful public debate on these issues is not
simply due to their disunity of purpose or vision. Nor can it be blamed solely
on their inability to create an alternative rendition of the past that has real
meaning to the majority of Filipinos and that dispels all hint of patronage.
While these are certainly factors, the root cause of their lack of success may
lie in something much deeper. As Conrado de Quiros writes in his recent
obituary of Renato Constantino, the Philippines is a country with an almost
desperate need to forget, one that 'lives almost exclusively in the present, the
past gliding by like water against an aimless boat, leaving no markers behind'
(Quiros 1999). The degree to which the Centennial actually challenged this
notion of a forgotten past and a continuous present was perhaps indicated by
the indifferent opinion polls and the limited public impact of the extensive

25
The lack of real economic development in the Philippines is blamed on a heady mixture of
colonial exploitation and the financial mismanagement of the Marcos years. Colonialism is held
responsible for initially retarding agricultural growth in the 17th century, then restricting its
expansion to a few export commodities (notably sugar, tobacco, abaca and coconut) during the
late 19th century, before creating dependence on a single market with the passing of the PayneAldrich Tariff Act of 1909 that abolished tariffs between the Philippine and American markets
through a system of quotas that regulated the amount of Philippine agricultural produce entering the US. (On the economic distortions created by colonialism in the Philippines, see Fast and
Richardson 1983.) The financial mismanagement under the martial law regime of President
Marcos, especially the extensive international borrowing to fund non-revenue generating investments and the granting of guarantees to favoured corporations that subsequently failed (socalled crony capitalism), saddled the economy with a large foreign debt. The country's total
overseas loans rose from US$2.6 billion in 1975 to US$26 billion by 1984 (Oviedo 1998:23). The
legacy of both colonialism and debt is seen as having seriously distorted the Philippine's economy and of hampering the ability of post-1986 administrations to take any significant measures
to relieve the extreme poverty that still afflicts many millions of Filipinos. Nor are these conditions seen as unrelated: both past colonialism and present debt tie the country to foreign masters, many of whom are the very same colonialists of old. Criticism is levelled at multilateral
funding agencies, large foreign multinationals and government policies in favour of economic
deregulation that perpetuate this historic chain of oppression'. A notable example of opposition
to foreign economic dominance was the Oil Deregulation Law of 1998 (RA 8479), which permitted the three foreign oil companies (Shell, Caltex and Petron) to set their own prices, a condition
of the IMF to end its economic restrictions on the Philippines. The companies were subsequently
accused of failing to pass on substantial falls in the monthly landed cost of crude to customers

(Not free 1998).

Selective Memory and Collective Forgetting

553

commemorations. As one pundit aptly said, 'unity in diversity may actually

be nothing more than dissension tamed by a show' (First hundred 1998).

Genealogical amnesia and the social function of history

The notion that the purposeful forgetting of the past may be part of an active
process of creating new, shared identities has been previously noted among
ethnic groups within Southeast Asia. Placing more importance on creating
kinship ties in the future and of ignoring divergent ancestral descent has
been referred to as 'genealogical amnesia' among the Balinese (Geertz and
Geertz 1964) and as 'structural amnesia' among the Iban (Freeman 1961:208).
hi the Philippines, similar practices have been recorded in the Visayas
(Dumont 1992:146-7) and among the Buid of Mindoro (Gibson 1986:88). The
emphasis instead is on expanding horizontal relationships in the present and
future that may serve to enhance an individual's life chances, with little
regard for a past that confers no comparable benefits. Unsurprisingly, the
practice is found to be more prevalent among commoners (Geertz and Geertz
1964), though O.W. Wolters argues that the relative unimportance of lineage
in determining claims to status is characteristic of Southeast Asian cultures as
a whole (Wolters 1982:5, 9). In her study of migrant communities on the
island of Langkawi, Janet Carsten describes the importance of kinship ties
and how these are 'wide' rather then 'deep', 'stretching outwards, following
degrees of "siblingship" rather than backwards into the past'. She suggests
that there is a historical relationship between the constant population flux in
maritime Southeast Asia, the personalistic form in which authority has been
exercised, and the energy and ease with which new kinship ties are forged in
migrant communities (Carsten 1995:326-9). While these concepts have so far
been applied mainly to small-scale societies, their significance for the nationstate can also be considered.
The concept of citizenship in the Philippines has been found to be problematic, with few people, apart from politicians and government functionaries, identifying in any real sense with the idea of the nation. Instead, citizenship is more frequently described in terms of belonging to communities,
both local and large, that express national affiliation as expanding concentric
circles of horizontal social ties in which identification 'with the family or clan
lay closest to the heart and identification with the Filipino, farthest away'
(Diokno 1997:19-20). This dichotomy between the abstraction of nation and
sense of community largely replicates class divisions between elite and the
rest of the population within the wider society and is reflected in their differing perceptions of the past.
Elites are concerned with lineage and descent. They look to the past to

554

Greg Bankoff

validate their position in the present. In particular, they prefer occasions that
commemorate a history in which their forebears played a significant role, as
this serves to remind people why they currently occupy privileged positions
in society. They especially operate on a national scale, as the scope of their
interests is commensurate with the widest possible socio-economic and political unit available, the Republic of the Philippines. (Some, of course, have
supra-national interests.) The future they favour is one that is a continuation
of the past, an enduring history. For them, the Centennial offered a perfect
scenario for celebrating history in such a manner that it propelled them into
public notice and linked them to the heroes of a revolutionary past, which
was itself presented as the origin of the nation-state. The majority of the
population, on the other hand, are largely indifferent to family background
and ancestry. Many, in fact, are recent rural-urban migrants and think more
in terms of extended kinship relations. Their concerns are less national and
more oriented towards the local, the sphere they better understand and in
which they mainly operate. They find few occasions in the past worth commemorating and little or nothing of the past worth celebrating. History is
best forgotten; their prospects in society depend on a future made more
secure by expanding their horizontal social connections, often through ritual
or fictive ties of siblingship. The Centennial, therefore, meant little in terms
of national symbolism and was only significant in so far as it promised a
better future, a future, moreover, that was distinct from a history redolent
with past injustices and exploitation. The apparent eagerness with which
many public commemorations such as the 12 June parade were greeted
should not be confused with pride in the past as presently constructed, but
more as enthusiasm for a grand occasion on which to have a fiesta at someone else's expense.
It is this dichotomy between elites' and majority views of the past and
their perception of history that may account for the relatively mixed survey
findings on Centennial awareness among different sectors of the population.
While popular consciousness of the commemorations rose significantly from
47 per cent in September 1996, to 55 per cent in June 1997, to 78 per cent by
April 1998, these figures varied substantially between regions and among
socio-economic groups. Thus Centennial awareness was greatest in MetroManila (97 per cent) and Luzon (84 per cent) but much lower in the Visayas
(68 per cent) and Mindanao (63 per cent). The differences were even more
striking among certain sectors of the population. According to the April 1998
survey, 93 per cent of persons classified as belonging to ABC-class demographic profiles were conscious of the Centennial as compared to only 63 per
cent for those with an E class profile. And awareness declined rapidly at the
local level: only 35 per cent of those in the Visayas and 23 per cent in Metro
Manila were conscious of actual events being staged in their own neigh-

Selective Memory and Collective Forgetting

bourhoods (Cadelina, Garcia and Reyes 1998:1, 6).26 Similar low levels of
awareness were found among schoolchildren whose consciousness of citizenship still remained at only 49 per cent in 1998 despite the incorporation of
Centennial topics emphasizing civic culture, values, geography and history
into the educational curricula since 1996 (Torres 1998:2).
This desire by the majority of Filipinos to collectively forget the past, to
succumb to genealogical amnesia, was put to a severe test in 1998 with the
controversy surrounding the then president-elect Estrada's resolution to permit the re-interment of Ferdinand Marcos's remains in the Libingan ng Mga
Bayani, the cemetery reserved for the nation's heroes. There was vociferous
opposition to the proposal among certain sectors of society and an open letter addressed to Joseph Estrada signed by Corazon Aquino, Cardinal Sin, exSenate President Jovy Salonga and 'dozens of other eminentoes [sic] representing a highly impressive and distinguished cross-section of Philippine
society'. The Marcos dictatorship, it was claimed, had committed crimes
against the Filipino people - colossal plunder, gross human rights abuses,
widespread acts of terrorism, brutal salvaging27 and indiscriminate hamleting' - that could not be forgiven without public repentance, restitution and
the administration of justice (Benigno 1998). In contrast, the words with
which the president-elect chose to announce his decision were highly revealing: 'We will bury Marcos's body and bury the past with him' (Bengco and
Garcia 1998:1). As a populist president, Estrada's views may have been more
in tune with public opinion and popular ideas about the past, even the more
immediate past, which has already consigned martial law to 'history' and
largely cloaks Marcos in the forgetfulness of genealogical amnesia. Certainly
some considered such to be the case (Jurado 1998:15-B).28
What, then, is the social function of history in the contemporary Philippines? It should not be understood as simply a hegemonic discourse or narrative of absolute domination. That is far too banal an interpretation. Of
course, there are counter-discourses, counter-narratives - between elites,
among the left, the religious, the feminist and ethnic minorities - but these
narratives are not simply counterpoised to that of the hegemonic. Again, that
26

The corresponding statistics for Luzon and Mindanao were 40 per cent and 44 per cent
respectively. I can offer no explanation for this relatively higher latter figure based on current
information. These percentages were based on the number of people actually aware of the
Centennial and not the total population.
27
The euphemism used in the Philippines for the murder of political opponents by members
of officially sponsored assassination gangs.
28
Jurado argued that whatever his other actions Marcos was still a former president and war
hero of Bataan, that the Libingan grounds were not as sacred as some make out ('not all heroes
are buried there, and not all those buried there are heroes'), and concluded that: 'only the vocal
minority is making noises against your plan to bury the Marcos issue. The majority of people
are behind you'.

555

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Greg Bankoff

would be too crude an analysis. There is space, indeed there is even place
made for such manifestations of resistance. Both, in fact, contribute to shaping a Philippine historiography as a series of synchronic narratives by which
the past is given shape and from which a mutually acceptable definition of
national identity may eventually evolve. However, the 'space' and the 'place'
have so far always been determined by the elites on their own terms.
Accordingly, selective memory and collective forgetting do not stand so
much in opposition to one another but are rather more in the nature of mutually reinforcing discourses.

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