“Three centuries in a Catholic
convent and fifty years in Hollywood.” This section of Karnow's
book attempts to gauge the accuracy of the first half of this
often-used description of modern Filipino history.
The Philippines suffered greatly from
the 300-year-long period of “suspended animation” (l. 1275)
generated by the medieval mindset and administrative sloth of their
Spanish colonial masters, but very occasionally they also benefitted.
Civil authorities were sent out for relatively short tours of duty by
the king's viceroy in Mexico and were “most confined to scattered
towns” (l. 1287). Catholic priests and monks often wielded more
actual power by virtue of being present on the ground for longer
periods. There were fewer precious natural resources to exploit, so
life was quieter and more peaceful than other Spanish colonies.
An example of administrative sloth: in
1762, a British expedition attacked and captured Manila because, even
though the Seven Years' War had started nine months previously, no
one had notified Manila (l. 1521).
The encomienda system
was designed to encourage colonization by distributing land to
settlers. On its face, it appears similar to successful schemes from
US history, but it quickly bogged down in corruption and abuse.
However, the system was similar to its US analog in its disregard for
the people who already lived and use the land. The abuses became so
bad (“treated worse than slaves” (l. 1352)) they even attracted
the attention of King Philip II of Spain, who has not otherwise gone
down in history as an enlightened monarch.
“By the early
seventeenth century, five religious orders had each carved out its
distinct sphere of influence. The Augustians, Franciscans and
Dominicans took over Luzon [the large northern island that includes
Manila], leaving the Visayas and Mindanao [in the south] to the
Jesuits and the Recollects, an austere offshoot of the Augustians.”
(l. 1360) This aggravated the existing tendency to tribalism and
regionalism.
If the colonial
government had purposely tried to design a system which strangled
trade and therefore impoverished themselves, they would have been
hard-pressed to improve on the “galleon trade”, under which only
a single large ship made a once-a-year round trip to Mexico in
January. Space on the ship was limited. Result: more corruption.
Wrecks and piracy were common, and the crews of ships risked a
variety of horrible diseases in pursuit of a slender slice of the
profit. For a relative few, great profit was possible. It was
impossible to limit this wealth to the Spaniards. Over the hundreds
of years of the galleon trade (last trip: 1811 (l. 1542)) and after,
there developed a small but steady growth of wealthy native
Philippinos (often with mixed Spanish and/or Chinese heritage, like a
dynasty now surnamed “Lopez”, but descended from a Chinese named
Lo). In a familiar pattern, some of these families sent their
children off to Europe where, even in Spain, they were infected with
dangerous ideas. This eventually coalesced into an intelligentsia,
called the ilustrados.
Karnow compares
this class with Caliban from The Tempest, who is educated by
Prospero but becomes bitter because he cannot enjoy the benefits of
his education (see title quotation, l. 1834).
An ilustrado
named José
Rizal y Mercado (1861 – 1896) became a national martyr. Karnow
equates him with Ho Chi Minh or Nehru. He was the type of young man
who, when struck by a police officer whom he had accidentally brushed
past, rushed to the governor's palace and was outraged (for the rest
of his life) at not getting service, even though it was nighttime.
Eventually Rizal studied medicine in Madrid and came back an ardent
reformer, advocating a fairer deal for Filipinos within Spanish
sovereignty. He wrote novels (“the Philippine equivalent of Uncle
Tom's Cabin” (l.
1852) is the description of one) which were officially forbidden but
circulated widely. Naturally, conversative forces thought him a
dangerous radical. They first exiled him to a remote island (where he
worked as a doctor) and eventually killed him after a groteque parody
of a trial, during which Rizal repeatedly pledged his loyalty to
Spain. The long poem he wrote in his cell during this period is a
mainstay of local literature. It was read out during a US
Congressional debate in 1916, allegedly moving the members to tears
and aiding in the passage of legislation granting the Philippines
(very) gradual independence.
Unsurprisingly,
future opponents of Spanish rule were less well-brought-up and less
enchanted with their colonial masters, as dangerous in fact as Rizal
was portrayed in fantasy. Andrés
Bonifacio and Emilio Aguinaldo y Famy were two revolutionary leaders
who matched the Spaniards in ruthlessness and outdid them in cunning,
but eventually turned on each other, weakening the effort as a whole.
Eventually Aguinaldo had Bonifacio executed. Aguinaldo continued to
fight against the Americans.
The
two sides were at a truce when Commodore Dewey's squadron steamed
into Manila Bay on 30 April, 1898.
Appearances
by the US in this section:
- “A survey taken by US specialists in 1903 found more than half the population to be illiterate, even in regional dialects” (l. 1403).
- “The Philippines was first mentioned officially in the United States in 1786, when the Continental Congress meeting in Philadelphia pondered the notion of urging Spain to grant American trading privileges” (l. 1571).
- The first documented, authorized stop by an American ship was in October 1796.
- At that time, there were at least two Americans living in Manila. There was at least one prosperous American firm operating in the pre-US Civil War period.
- Aguinaldo was captured and relieved of his belovéd ceremonial sword by Americans in 1901. In 1960, 92-year-old Aguinaldo received his sword back in a ceremony from Charles Bohlen, the US Ambassador to the Philippines at that time and father of future US Ambassador to Bulgaria Avis Bohlen.
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