“FILIPINOS are worth dying for,” said the late Senator Benigno “Ninoy” S. Aquino.
But who are Filipinos? Is being born in the Philippines sufficient for an individual to be identified as a Filipino? Everyone has their own perspective on this matter. But who can genuinely be considered a Filipino?
During my high school years, one of my most admired speeches was authored by Carlos Peña Rómulo. He was somewhat of a role model for me: he began his career as a reporter at the age of 16, became a newspaper editor by 20, and a publisher by 32. At 43, he made history as the first Asian to receive the Pulitzer Prize in journalism in 1942.
In total, Romulo authored and published 18 books, which encompassed works such as “The United” (a novel), “I Walked with Heroes” (an autobiography), “I Saw the Fall of the Philippines,” “Mother America,” and “I See the Philippines Rise” (memoirs from wartime).
The speech I was referring to earlier was “I am a Filipino.” I am not sure if today’s generations have read the speech or if the old folks could still recall it. So, I am sharing this piece once again (although I cut short the remaining paragraphs towards the end due to space limitation):
“I am a Filipino – inheritor of a glorious past, hostage to the uncertain future. As such I must prove equal to a two-fold task- the task of meeting my responsibility to the past, and the task of performing my obligation to the future. I sprung from a hardy race – child of many generations removed from ancient Malayan pioneers.
“Across the centuries, the memory comes rushing back to me: of brown-skinned men putting out to sea in ships that were as frail as their hearts were stout. Over the sea I see them come, borne upon the billowing wave and the whistling wind, carried upon the mighty swell of hope- hope in the free abundance of new land that was to be their home and their children’s forever.
“This is the land they sought and found. Every inch of shore that their eyes first set upon, every hill and mountain that beckoned to them with a green and purple invitation, every mile of rolling plain that their view encompassed, every river and lake that promise a plentiful living and the fruitfulness of commerce, is a hollowed spot to me.
“By the strength of their hearts and hands, by every right of law, human and divine, this land and all the appurtenances thereof – the black and fertile soil, the seas and lakes and rivers teeming with fish, the forests with their inexhaustible wealth in wildlife and timber, the mountains with their bowels swollen with minerals – the whole of this rich and happy land has been, for centuries without number, the land of my fathers. This land I received in trust from them and in trust will pass it to my children, and so on until the world no more.
“I am a Filipino. In my blood runs the immortal seed of heroes – seed that flowered down the centuries in deeds of courage and defiance. In my veins yet pulses the same hot blood that sent Lapu-lapu to battle against the alien foe that drove Diego Silang and Dagohoy into rebellion against the foreign oppressor.
“That seed is immortal. It is the self-same seed that flowered in the heart of Jose Rizal that morning in Bagumbayan when a volley of shots put an end to all that was mortal of him and made his spirit deathless forever; the same that flowered in the hearts of Bonifacio in Balintawak, of Gregorio del Pilar at Tirad Pass, of Antonio Luna at Calumpit; that bloomed in flowers of frustration in the sad heart of Emilio Aguinaldo at Palanan, and yet burst forth royally again in the proud heart of Manuel L. Quezon when he stood at last on the threshold of ancient Malacañang Palace, in the symbolic act of possession and racial vindication.
“The seed I bear within me is an immortal seed. It is the mark of my manhood, the symbol of dignity as a human being. Like the seeds that were once buried in the tomb of Tutankhamen many thousand years ago, it shall grow and flower and bear fruit again. It is the insigne of my race, and my generation is but a stage in the unending search of my people for freedom and happiness.
“I am a Filipino, child of the marriage of the East and the West. The East, with its languor and mysticism, its passivity and endurance, was my mother, and my sire was the West that came thundering across the seas with the Cross and Sword and the Machine. I am of the East, an eager participant in its struggles for liberation from the imperialist yoke. But I also know that the East must awake from its centuried sleep, shape of the lethargy that has bound his limbs, and start moving where destiny awaits.
“For, I, too, am of the West, and the vigorous peoples of the West have destroyed forever the peace and quiet that once were ours. I can no longer live, being apart from those worlds now trembles to the roar of bombs and cannon shots. For no man and no nation is an island, but a part of the main, there is no longer any East and West – only individuals and nations making those momentous choices that hinge upon which history resolves.
“At the vanguard of progress in this part of the world I stand – a forlorn figure in the eyes of some, but not one defeated and lost. For through the thick, interlacing branches of habit and custom above me I have seen the light of the sun, and I know that it is good. I have seen the light of justice and equality and freedom and my heart has been lifted by the vision of democracy, and I shall not rest until my land and my people shall have been blessed by these, beyond the power of any man or nation to subvert or destroy.”
In the following paragraphs, Romulo discussed his inheritance and referred to the sounds of cattle that possess resources on every battlefield from Mactan to Tirad Pass. He also spoke of the toil of the resilient pioneers in Mal-ig and Koronadal.
Romulo ended his thought-provoking piece with these words: “I am a Filipino born of freedom and I shall not rest until freedom shall have been added unto my inheritance – for myself and my children’s children – forever.”
