Towards a Filipino History: A Festschrift for Zeus Salazar

Bon Jovi Bernardo
Portia L. Reyes Editor
Copyright @ 2015
ISBN 978-971-8755-09-9
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner or form without the permission of the authors and publishers, except in the form of brief quotations embodied in critical articles of reviews.
Editor Portia L. Reyes
Book Lay-out Eugene P. Crudo
This book is dedicated to my wonder-twins Ami and Sam.
i
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
This volume will not be possible without the help of numerous colleagues and friends. Special thanks to the contributors, who have been patient and cooperative throughout the production of this work. We appreciate Suri Sining: The Art Studies Anthology which allowed us to republish Cecilia de la Paz’s essay and Itinerario. International Journal on the History of European Expansion and Global Interaction which also granted our request to reprint my essay. Mary Jane Rodriguez-Tatel, Atoy Navarro and Vic Villan who are in charge of the festschrift volumes in Filipino have been very reassuring and always ready to assist. In particular, Prof. Navarro provided the impetus and sustained our dedication throughout this project. Kindly Prof. Rodriguez-Tatel edited my Filipino translations of some portions of the volume; while Prof. Villan connected us with personages who helped in its production. We are grateful to Eugene P. Crudo for the skillful lay-out of this festschrift and to Nicole Angela V. Canseco, for its striking cover design. We appreciate Lorenz Lasco and Jimmy Tiongson of the Bahay-Saliksikan ng Kasaysayan/Bagong Kasaysayan, Inc. (BAKAS) as well as Ferdinand Victoria for their prompt and competent assistance at the publication of this volume. Maraming salamat to my husband Jamie Davidson for reading parts of the work; and also to our kids—Ami and Sam—for being patient and understanding of their Nanay. Finally we thank Zeus Salazar for his support and inspiration. Truly he is a giant not only in Philippine historiography, but in the Philippine academy as a whole. We wish you all the best, sir. Mabuhay po kayo!
Possible mistakes that might arise from the editing of this volume are mine and do not involve the aforementioned names.
ii
The Role of Language in the Philippines in a 29
Colonial and Postcolonial Context
(The Case for Upper Pampanga)
Lino L. Dizon
“The Most Humane of any that could be Adopted” 88
The Philippine Opium Committee Report and the Imagining of the
Opium Consumer’s World in Colonial Philippines, 1903-1905
Ferdinand Philip Victoria
Problems and Possibilities for Philippine Communities
Cecilia de la Paz
Yearning for Nativeness 179
Wilfried Wagner
Eyes on the Prize: Colonial Fantasies, the German Self, and 196
Newspaper Accounts of the 1896 Philippine Revolution
Portia Reyes
Overseas Filipino Workers in Nigeria
Saliba James
during the Japanese Occupation
LIST OF TABLES
Rough Estimate of the Number of Opium Users as 107 Submitted by Presidents of the Provincial Boards of Health and Interviewees, 1903-1904
Rough Estimate of the Amounts and Mode of Opium Use as 113 Submitted by Reporting Presidents of the Provincial Boards of Health, 1903-1904
Opium Imports to the Philippines per Opium Report, 115 1899-1903 (Values and duties in US currency)
Singapore Opium Exports to the Philippines and Sulu, 118 1898-1903
Profiles of Filipino Respondents in the Opium Report 130
Estimate of the Amounts of Opium Used per Consumer as 135 Submitted by Reporting Presidents of the Provincial Boards of Health in Select Provinces and Towns, 1903-1904
Actual, Estimated Opium Revenues and 143 Spanish Budget Projections in Pesos
v
Streets with Known Opium Dens in Binondo District, 99 1903
Street with Known Opium Dens in Santa Cruz/Quiapo District, 102 1903
Residential Places of the Minangkabau People in Java 280
vi
Dedication of Paul Fejos to Rev. Heinz Wagner 183
Kinder der Wildnis: Filmfreuden und Filmstarallüren 186 mitten im Stillen Ozean
Siuban House 187
Siuban Men 187
Siuban Dance 188
CELEBRATING ZEUS SALAZAR
Portia L. Reyes
Dito rin mahuhulo: pagpapalitan Ng sangkaisipan nang walang pangatlo, Saklaw ng ating Loob na parang belo
-Z. Salazar, “Doctrina Cristiana,” 19921
In this volume, we celebrate the life and scholarly achievements of Zeus Salazar,
the Father of Pantayong Pananaw (for-us-from-us perspective). Salazar has
dedicated his life to an intellectual project that has sought to bring a distinctly
Filipino mindset to pedagogy, historiography and national history. I was one of
his students, and one among many students and staff alike at the University of the
Philippines (UP) in Diliman, Quezon City that were attracted to Salazar’s ideas
and ideals, not to mention his personal charm. Uncompromisingly, he drilled
into his students to be wary of a historical narrative’s perspective and underlining
analytical philosophy. He provoked thought on the role and responsibilities of
a historian; his incessant refrain was: ‘para kanino?’ (for whom [is this history/is
this historian writing]?). Demanding disciplinal rigor, he ensured his students
would be ruthless in their examination of source materials used. Specifically,
Salazar was at pains to demonstrate what a history of the Philippines without
colonialism as the pivot would look like. His enthusiasm for history, historical
2 REYES: Celebrating Zeus Salazar
research and teaching was contagious. He remains an inspiration not just
among Filipino historians but to scores of researchers on Philippine culture
and society. This essay provides a brief retrospective of Salazar as an historian,
educator and public intellectual.
Filipino Language and Culture
Salazar’s professional career began in 1968 when, fresh from completing
graduate school at the Sorbonne in Paris, France, he returned to the Philippines
with his young family in tow. As a faculty member of the History Department of
UP Diliman, he vigorously tackled the demands of his new post. Among other
things he led the charge to transform the pedagogical practice and discourse of
history at the university. He railed against the norm of using the English language
as the medium of academic exchange and encouraged his students to use the
Filipino language (Filipino) in the classroom and in their exam papers and essay
assignments. A brief two years after his return from abroad, he published an
article entitled “Ang Pagtuturo ng Kasaysayan sa Pilipino” (Teaching History
in Pilipino) that introduced his understanding of the intimate interlocation
between language and culture. Adopting a Marxist standpoint, he argued that
the historical march of Filipino culture is inseparable and inescapable from the
struggle between the elite and the masses. He claimed that
Maliwanag na ang pagpapalago sa kalinangang Pilipino ay may kaugnayan sa kasalukuyang pagkakasalungat ng mga uring panlipunan at sa pamamalagi mismo sa bansa. Ang “kulturang” kolonyal sa wikang inggles o kastila ng mga mapagsamantalang uri ay kasalungat ng kalinangang bayan, na kasalukuyang nagpapalaya sa sarili.2
3Towards a Filipino History: A Festschrift for Zeus Salazar
<Clearly the development of Filipino culture is related with the present struggle among the social classes and with the persistence of the nation itself. The colonial “culture” which is based on the English or Spanish language of the exploitative class contrasts with the people’s being which presently perseveres to free itself.>
For Salazar, the culture (kultura) of the exploitative classes is borrowed and
artificial. Neither organic nor truly posssessed, it only extracts from or gnaws
at foreign knowledge. The exploitative classes and, specifically, their writings
in Spanish or English offer little to enrich the sources of the people’s being
(kalinangang bayan). In fact, society’s upper classes tend to ridicule the
underclasses and their own knowledge for being unschooled and uncouth, a
practice which Salazar deplores. He writes,
ang pagpapayabong sa kalinangang Pilipino sa Pilipino ay isang napakamakabuluhang bahagi ng pakikibaka para sa isang pambansang kaayusang bunga ng (at batay sa) mapagpabagong pagpapasiya ng mga uring bayan. Isang gawaing napakamahalaga, sapagkat tumitiyak at nagbibigay- katuturan sa kakanyahang Pilipino, humuhubog, nagbubuo’t nagbibigay-saklaw sa tanaw, isip at damdaming bayan: ang tunay na kalinangan.3
<the development of Filipino culture in the Filipino language is a salient portion of the struggle towards a national order brought about by (and based on) the radical will of the people. This is an important task, for it distinguishes and gives meaning to the Filipino being; it shapes, unifies and encompasses people’s view, thought and passion: the real culture.>
The domination of a foreign language in schools, for Salazar, has led to
the estrangement of the formally educated from most of her countrywomen.
Academic work in a foreign language aims to address foreigners, while treating
Filipinos as mere subjects of study and inquiry. In Salazar’s terms, they propagate
a pangkaming (for-us) perspective, which exposes the pagkaiba (otherness) of
the Filipino vis-à-vis other peoples and cultures. Unwittingly or not, knowledge
becomes relevant to a foreign or foreign-educated audience but distant and
even harmful to those, who are under the scholarly gaze, for they are considered
different, exotic, odd or even abhorrent.
Salazar was writing and espousing these ideas at a time when a
liberation struggle overwhelmed UP Diliman and the country more broadly. In
protest against the repressiveness of the Ferdinand Marcos regime, intellectuals
collectively mounted what came to be known as “The First Quarter Storm”
and the celebrated “Diliman Commune.”4 The regime clamped down on the
protesters, jailing and/or torturing numerous left-leaning staff members and
students. This included Salazar, who was interred from 1971 to 1973.5 Salazar’s
experience of detention weighed on him and his family profoundly, whose lives
were upended amid getting accustomized to their non-European surroundings.
Upon release, Salazar returned to teaching and writing. He continued
to hone his ideas on the intimacy between language and culture, insistent that
local academics should accept, study, understand and privilege the Filipino
language. According to Salazar, if a Filipino uses Filipino, she or he will be forced
to think and process the world in her or his own language and in its own terms.
Language is the center piece of an individual, his or her culture and society.
Illustratively, Salazar notes that
wika ang natatanging paraan upang matutuhan ng isang tao ang kulturang kinabibilangan niya at kahit na iyong hindi taal sa kanya. Habang nasasanay ang bata sa wika ng kanyang ka-kultura, unti-unti siyang nahuhubog sa isip, gawi, damdamin at karanasan ng mga ito—mula sa mga pinakasimpleng kanta sa sanggol at bugtong hanggang sa mga kataas-taasang katha’t likha ng diwa at kaluluwa sa
sining, agham at literatura.6
<language is the only way with which a person could understand the culture s/he belongs to and even those s/ he is not accustomed with. As a child becomes skilled in the language of her/his people, s/he is formed in accord with their systems of thought, custom, passion and experience— from the simplest children’s songs and riddles to the most complex creation and products of the mind and soul in the in the arts, science and literature.>
As both a repository and source of culture, language changes and adapts
to the needs and requirements of its speakers over time. Every speaker, in this
regard, contributes to the development of her or his own language. Even a
bilingual or a polyglot speaker, Salazar claims, enriches Filipino, since he serves
as a means to the understanding of other peoples and cultures in the national
language.
In the discourse on the national language and culture Salazar found
a like-minded scholar and an ally in the late Virgilio Enriquez, the father of
Sikolohiyang Pilipino (SP/Filipino Psychology).7 As a psychology brought about
by Filipino experiences, ideas and orientation,8 SP paved the way towards the
indigenization of the theory, method and practice of psychology. To realize SP,
Enriquez urged psychologists and interested social scientists to 1) appropriate
untried and unproven theories which could be meaningful to Filipino life and
society; 2) avoid blindly following any developments in psychology abroad; 3)
communicate with and recognize other psychologists in different portions of the
Philippines; and 4) enrich one’s trust and respect of his abilities to analyze data
and information toward meaningful theories on Filipino society and culture.9
For Enriquez the fundamental basis of SP is the sincere appreciation of Filipino
language, culture and perspective.10 His evaluation of the Filipino language in SP
found a parallel in Salazar’s, who claims
Ano ba ang magiging pamamaraan ng Sikolohiyang Pilipino upang mapag-aralan ang sariling mga katangian bilang grupong sosyo-kultural? Pundamental dito ang wika sapagkat kahit na ang mga tradisyong sosyal, pangrelihiyon at ano pa man ay nakasalalay sa wika. Lalo nang dapat pag- ukulan ng pansin ang paksang ito sapagkat maraming mga katangian ang inilapat sa Pilipino mula pa nang madiskubre ng mga banyaga ang Pilipino.11
<Which method should Sikolohiyang Pilipino adapt in order to evaluate our own traits as a particular socio-cultural group? Here, language is fundamental because our traditional social, religious and other norms are based on a language. We need to particularly pay attention to this topic for Filipinos have been subjected to many traits since they were discovered by foreigners.>
Together with Enriquez and other colleagues, Salazar participated in the
SP discourse and contributed in enriching and propagating some of its tenets. SP
became a particular school of thought that advocated (and still advances) social
scientific inquiry in the Filipino language. In SP meanings are distinguished
through a careful consideration of the development of language as a process in
Filipino culture and history where the researcher and her/his discipline are also
integrated.12 SP treats Filipino culture as a source and motivation to research;
it does not treat Filipinos as targets or subjects for foreign hypotheses and
experimentation.
For Salazar, the Filipino intellectual, trained and practicing his
profession in English in both the private and public contexts, is lost to her own
people. The language that she privileges contributes to her isolation, or even
entrapment, in the toreng garing (ivory tower). According to Salazar, every
people, just like every individual, is rooted in their own language; their memory
and understanding are processed in their own language. An intellectual, who
solely thinks in and works with a foreign language, not only becomes estranged
from her own language and culture, but remains distant from the ills inflicting
his society and indifferent to their cures. She is a ‘useless intellectual,’ one
alienated from her own culture.13
Salazar notes that the historian, whose preoccupation is “to determine
historical data upon which he can write history,”14 could easily be carried away
in his pursuit to provide a rigorous account of what has really happened. For
instance, in an effort to extract data from a document, he is confronted with an
idea (or ideas), encoded as socio-linguistic symbols in the written source. He
plunges into the symbolic world of the document, hoping it would be a fragment
that lights up an heretofore ambiguous picture of the past. Yet, for Salazar, this is
a one-sided picture of what a historian is trained to do or who he is. The historian
is also a living person, breathing amid his times. He “belongs to his people,
by conscious choice or through the simple operation of socio-cultural laws, his
yearning for (and occassional attainment of) universality notwithstanding.”15
The Filipino historian needs to work with and/or rebel against his country’s
intellectual tradition—from the formulation of his research problem through
his struggle with the sources to his determination and use of historical data,
because his primary audience is his countrymen, “just as the context of his
comprehensibility can only be his country’s intellectual-cultural tradition.”16
In 1974 Salazar joined other UP historians to collaborate on Marcos’s
project to compose a series of history books on the Philippines.17 In the midst of
his controversial involvement with this project, Salazar expressed concerns over
the attempts to fit foreign theories (progressive, communist, liberal, or otherwise)
in plotting the linearity of Philippine history.18 While he largely persuaded his
fellow historians on the project, he failed to convince its financier, Marcos, to
write the books in Filipino. Salazar’s participation in the project allowed him
to conduct research, to travel abroad and to contribute to the production of
scholarly tomes. But it also put a stain on his reputation for having collaborated
with the notorious regime. Salazar left the project in 1979, almost five years after
his services were commissioned.
Kasaysayan: Significance in History
Salazar took a leave of absence from UP and for five years, starting in the
summer of 1980, held the directorship of one of the departments at the Ecole
des Hautes Etudes en Sciences Sociales in Paris. His tenure did not require him
to live in the city, however. As such he was able to accept research fellowships
with the Deutsche Akademische Austauschdienst (DAAD) and the Deutsche
Forschungsgemeinschaft (DFG) that allowed him to be based at the University
of Cologne.19 He and his family then spent the next five years in Germany—his
wife is German—where he continued to write on Philippine history and culture.
While at Cologne he helped to establish Bahay-Saliksikan sa Kasaysayan
(BAKAS), a history discussion group which became the publishing arm of Bagong
Kasaysayan (new history) that Salazar later pioneered in the Philippines. His
article, “A Legacy of the Propaganda: the Tripartite View of Philippine History,”
which laid out what he deems as the Filipino concept of history and historicity,
was also during this time. For an English language reading audience, he writes:
our word for “history” in Tagalog does not refer to knowledge, to the search for information or to what happened in the past as such. Kasaysayan comes from saysay which means both “to relate in detail, to explain,” and “value, worth, significance.” In one sense, therefore, Kasaysayan is “story” (like the German Geschichte or another Tagalog term salaysay, which is probably simply an extended form of saysay). But Kasaysayan is also “explanation,” “significance,” or “relevance” (may saysay “significant, relevant”; walang saysay or walang kasaysayan, meaning “irrelevant, senseless”).20
Salazar claims that kasaysayan—the historical sentiment behind
myths, legends and rituals of the inhabitants of the Philippines—see history
as cyclical. Yet this understanding of historical time was undermined in the
sixteenth century by the Spaniards, who in their chronicles (cronica, historia),
categorized the lives and actions of the island’s peoples through the mindset of a
foreign historical consciousness. Inherently linear, the latter saw the archipelago
and its peoples at a stage where its people would be the grateful recipients of
the benevolent actions and practices of the Spanish colonizers. Their chronicles
and histories of the Philippines featured themselves as saviours and/or agents of
change among a pagan population.
In the nineteenth century this form of historical consciousness was
inculcated by a group of educated Filipinos (ilustrados) who used the Spanish
frame of reference in their intellectual campaign, known as the Propaganda
Movement, for colonial reforms. To counter Spanish vilification of Filipinos in
prevailing narratives, such ilustrados as Jose Rizal, Graciano Lopez-Jaena and
Marcelo del Pilar introduced a new perspective and utilized what Salazar would
later coin as the metaphor of light-darkness-light (hence tripartite) view of
Philippine history. According to this standpoint, before the Spaniards, ancient
civilizations thrived and people prospered. Then came the Spanish clerics, who
extinguished this “light” and brought about a period of “darkness” (or a social
cancer, according to Rizal; monastic supremacy, for del Pilar; or friarocracy, to
Jaena). It follows, hence, that the friars’ expulsion would resurrect a period of
light and prosperity. In two critical ways, however, the ilustrado tripartite view of
history remained rooted in European judgement, form and historiography. One
is the insatiable and iresistable need to prove that one’s peoples have History—
that they have great men and great traditions. The other is that this History hence
forms a natural basis from which a Nation emerges. This lineage, Salazar notes,
was carried forward by subsequent generations of Filipino scholars. In fact,
it outlasted the Spanish period, gained considerable ground under American
tutelage and has thrived in the country’s post-colonial period.21
In its modern incarnation, the tripartite view remains, but with a twist—
it associates the precolonial period with prosperity, denounces the Spanish
colonial period and glorifies the American occupation. Americans are equated
with the arrival of democracy, equality, and public welfare, including education
and hygiene. Here Filipino historians inadvertently associate developments in
Philippine history to exogenous factors. According to Salazar, the historians’
entrenchment to this historiography needs to be further scrutinized, because
by attaching the unfolding of our people’s history to the colonial phenomenon and other exogenous factors, our historians and Filipinos in general fail to see that we are responsible for our own history, that there is (or there must be) an internal mechanism for our becoming one people, a particular thrust to our national history. In any case, there is an urgent need for rethinking the periodization of Philippine history.22
Towards a Filipino Historiography
Salazar returned to teaching at the University of the Philippines in 1986,
henceforth building a reputation for his steadfast conviction on rethinking
Philippine history and history-writing and the use of Filipino as the language
of historical discourse. Respectful of his achievements in the academy, his
cohort named him chairman of the History Department (1989-91), after which
he was tabbed dean of the College of Social Sciences and Philosophy (1991-94).
Coming after the fall of the Marcos regime and the return of electoral democracy
to the Philippines, his tenure as chair and dean saw the resurfacing of left-
leaning intellectuals to public life at the university. Salazar’s ideas on history
and historiography found allies among them. Like Salazar, most preferred to
mitigate, if not totally eliminate, the habit of associating the Philippines with
their former colonial masters and using history as a means to uplift the poor.
It was at this juncture that Salazar truly began to heed his own advice
and exerted efforts at rethinking the emplotment and historiography of
predominant historical narratives. Like-minded colleagues and students were
his interlocators in the dialogues that took place in the context of seminars,
discussion groups and conferences. Traditional historiography, they agreed, is
informed by four discursive mechanisms. The first is the ‘discourse of influence,’
which refers to the conceptualization of the Philippines as a weak or empty
cultural zone that perpetually needs assistance from the outside. Second,
traditional historiography is obsessed by the so-called ‘first-Filipino discourse.’
Here, while history illustrates the ‘first Filipino engineer, doctor and so on,’
ultimately it implies that s/he is second to American or European predecessors.
Third is the ‘discourse of discovery,’ which again signifies a lack of significance
against that which came before, especially with regard to the arrival of Europeans
in the archipelago. The final mechanism is the ‘discourse of reaction,’ which
treats the Filipino as a pawn under the colonizer’s will and desire.23
For Salazar, in the periodization of history, historians should be more
aware of their historical judgement. Changes that occur in history should not
be measured with external exigencies and demands, but with internal needs
and circumstances. An internal mechanism must facilitate the becoming of the
archipelago’s inhabitants into a people; Filipinos must regain prime agency in
their own history. It is in this context in which Salazar argues for his well-known
pantayong pananaw (for-us-from-us perspective) in history. Narratives should
consider the meanings behind the particular discourse among Filipinos and give
credence to the individuality of Filipinos as a nation. For him, when a group
of people communicate about themselves and among themselves in their own
language, they comprise a closed circuit for
nagkakaintindihan ang lahat. Samakatuwid, ang lipunan at kultura natin ay may “pantayong pananaw” lang kung tayong lahat ay gumagamit ng mga konsepto at ugali na alam nating lahat ang kahulugan, pati ang relasyon ng mga kahulugan, pati ang relasyon ng mga kahulugang ito sa isa’t-isa. Ito ay nangyayari lamang kung iisa ang “code”—ibig sabihin, may iisang pangkabuuang pag-uugnay at pagkakaugnay ng mga kahulugan, kaisipan at ugali. Mahalaga (at pundamental pa nga) rito ang iisang wika.24
<understanding one another. Therefore, our society and culture could only have a “pantayong pananaw” (for-us- from-us perspective) if all of us use ideas and traditions with which we are all familiar—including the connection among meanings and the particular relationship between each of those meanings. This only happens when there is a singular “code”—meaning, there is a wholistic organization and interconnection of meanings, thought and tradition. Significant (even fundamental), in this regard, is language.>
Salazar is sincere in his belief that pantayong pananaw (PP) would
inspire collective and individual responsibility for the Filipinos’ own past;
blaming others for their own plight was sociologically and psychologically
crippling. Prosperity and pride would be obtained through the recognition (and
acceptance) of one’s own mistakes.
Intellectually Salazar attributes a matrix of four meanings to PP as
an historiographical strain. They are: 1) an internal correspondence and
interrelation of traits, values, knowledge, expertise, goals, tradition, attitude and
experience of a culture; 2) a holistic culture that is enshrouded and expressed in
language; 3) a self-enclosed cultural or civilizational discourse; and 4) a reality
within any ethnolinguistic group that is integral and sovereign.25 It follows that
every culture has PP; it is a people’s worldview and understanding of themselves
and their surroundings—as such, it forms the basis of their union as a group with
a particular language and culture.
Salazar’s introspection on Filipino agency in their own history found
an ear and and interlocator in Prospero Covar, champion of Pilipinolohiya
(Filipinology) which refers to the systematic study of the Filipino psyche and
Filipino culture and society. Here, Filipino culture pertains to the language and
all the branches of art including music, painting, sculpture, dance, architecture,
drama, literature, film, philosophy and even religion.26 Pilipinolohiya aims at
using social scientific research to ‘free’ (distinguish and emphasize the Filipino-
ness of) Filipino ideas, culture and society and not compromise them through
ill-fitting foreign theory and valuation.27 According to Covar, unlike a Philippine
Studies scholar who treats Filipinos or their country as mere research cases,
a Filipinologist commits himself and his work towards the realization of a
kabihasnan (national civilization). In Pilipinolohiya, Covar continues, the basis
of the Filipino Self are Filipino experiences, while the Filipino system of thought,
culture and society are markers of the Filipino nation and nationhood.28 Studies
in Pilipinolohiya discusses the Filipino people with Filipinos in Filipino; they
employ an emic approach to research.
In agreement with Covar, Salazar suggests the potential of Pilipinolohiya
in furthering research:
Implicitly, Pilipinolohiya’s concern is to report and explain about Pilipinas to Filipinos in their own terms and with a view to strengthening Filipino nationality, to pursuing Filipino national goals and ideals (pambansang adhikain at mithiin). It is in this sense that Pilipinolohiya constitutes the basis for knowing or studying (and understanding) other nationalities
and cultures in the world within “area studies” which the University of the Philippines is just beginning to develop.29
Salazar envisions Pilipinolohiya as a disciplinal platform to privilege
the Filipino I/eye over the institutionalized practice of appropriating the
Eurocentric and/or Anglocentric perspective in social scientific inquiry about
the Philippines, the Filipinos and their related concerns in the region and
around the world. Along with Covar, he strove (and still strives) to convince
colleagues and students, who have otherwise written their works in English, to
write in Filipino (including me!).
Increasingly Salazar and his interlocators among colleagues and students
at UP became convinced of furthering a systemic approach in which to propagate
the possibilities of this new historiographical strain. In 1989 they established the
history organization ADHIKA (Asosasyon ng mga Dalubhasa, may Hilig at Interes
sa Kasaysayan ng Pilipinas/Organization of Experts, Curious, and Interested
in the History of the Philippines). It sought to advocate bagong kasaysayan
(new history), bagong historiograpiyang Pilipino (new Filipino historiography),
and pantayong pananaw through seminars, discussion, national conferences
and publication of variegated historical works.30 Like Salazar, founders of this
organization, who included respected scholars Bernadette Abrera, Ferdinand
Llanes, Nilo Ocampo and Jaime Veneracion, were convinced ADHIKA would
facilitate the realization of their historical philosophy and convictions—
they were going back to the sources of Filipino history, to the Filipino people
themselves, for the Filipinos themselves.
Reiterating his claims from the 1960s, Salazar asserts that a dambuhalang
pagkakahating pangkalinangan (great cultural divide) exists in contemporary
Filipino society. In his 1991 article “Ang Pantayong Pananaw Bilang Diskursong
Pangkabihasnan” (Pantayong Pananaw as Civilizational Discourse) he claims
Sa kalahatan ay dalawang kalinangan sa pakahulugang antropolohikal ang nakapaloob at maaring sumaklaw sa kasalukuyang lipunang Pilipino—ang “kulturang nasyonal” na nagmula sa Propaganda bilang resulta ng pagkatatag ng nacion/nation (nasyon) sa pamumuno ng elite at ang “kalinangang bayan” bilang kinalabasan ng proseso ng pagkabuo ng mga pamayanang Pilipino sa isang Bayang Pilipino, ang Inang Bayan ng Himagsikan 1896.31
<In the anthropological sense, two cultural entities comprise and encompass today’s society in the Philippines—one, the “national culture” which stems from the Propaganda and the establishment of the nation [nation-state] led by the elite and two, the “people’s culture” which is the consequence of the processual development of numerous Filipino communities into a Filipino nation, the [ideal] motherland of the 1896 Revolution.>
Filipino intellectuals of the Propaganda Movement first conceived
“national culture” in the Spanish language (la nación/patria filipina);
revolutionists appropriated this conciousness in their armed campaign for
political independence; and successive presidents of the country promoted it
during their terms of office. “People’s culture,” Salazar reasons, is borne out of
the collective historical experience of Filipino communities who were forced to
become a nation in order to rebel against Western colonialism. Neither a foreign
language nor foreign ideas had been used to express this historical experience.
While the elite expressed their thoughts and vision in a foreign language,
the Filipino revolutionary underclass—especially members of the so-called
messianic movements of the sixteenth to the twentieth centuries—used either
Tagalog or other Filipino languages. They communicated among one another,
wrote and sung in their local tongue. However, their voices (and hence, their
way of thought) were lost in the official accounts written by members of the
elite class.
At this juncture Salazar and his colleagues in the campaign to develop
Bagong Kasaysayan urged other intellectuals to consider another method at
discovering historical data. For this school of thought, language is not just a
tool for communication, but a reservoir of a people’s history. Words provide
clues about a mindset of a period and of a people and so serve as a rich source
of information across time. In the 1990s, when the country was gearing up for
the centennial anniversary of the 1896 Revolution and the 1898 Declaration
of Philippine Independence, this analytical philosophy found a receptive
audience among intellectuals interested in the study of the ideas of heroism and
nationhood. For Salazar, a particular pook pangkasaysayan (place in history)
frames kabayanihan (heroism). He explains:
Dinaranas pa rin ng Pilipinas ang kawalan ng kabuuan. Hati pa rin ang lipunang nasyonal na katumbas ng pagkakahiwalay ng kulturang maka-kanluranin ng elite at kalinangang bayan ng nakararami. Dito umiinog ang kabayanihan ng Pilipino na nagsimula sa pagkaunawa sa bayani bilang tagapagsagawa ng gawain at tungkulin para sa kabuuang lipunan, bayan man ito o estadong bayan. Ang kalagayang ito ay unti-unting nawasak sa karamihan sa mga grupong Pilipino sa pagsapit ng kolonyalismo. Sa pakikipagtunggali rito nabuo ang nasyon sa halip ng bayan bilang kabuuang sumasaklaw sa arkipelagong Pilipino. Ang ibinunga nito ang pagkakahating pangkalinangan ng mga Pilipino: ang elite na maka-Kanluranin at ang bayan na naka-ugat sa Kalinangang Pilipino.32
<The Philippines continues to experience a lacunae of unity. National society is still divided between the Westernized culture of the elite and the people’s culture of the majority. It is in this context that the concept of Filipino heroism could be understood. A bayani (hero) was first conceived as a person, who worked and fulfilled duties for the whole society, either for the nation or the polity. Slowly colonialism eroded this order for many Filipino communities. It is in the clash with colonialism that ‘nation’, instead of ‘people’, evolved to refer to the entity that encompasses the Philippine archipelago. This led to the cultural divide among Filipinos: the West-
leaning elite and the culturally rooted bayan.>
The heroism associated with the revolutionary leader Andres Bonifacio
and Jose Rizal, for Salazar, is emblemic of two national projects that aimed to
compete with or substitute for the Spanish colonial order of the nineteenth
century. While Rizal was identified as the Spanish heroe among the elite
‘Filipinos’ (educated class), Bonifacio was recognized as the Filipino bayani
among the poor Tagalogs. Salazar illustrates the difference between the two
concepts by identifying the subtext of bayani, glimpsed through historical
dictionaries and a complex array of ethnographical materials. He concludes that
whereas heroe is borrowed,
Ang katagang “bayani” ay taal sa Tagalog, tulad ng “bagani” sa Bagobo—ibig sabihin, hindi hiram. Mga manang kataga ang dalawa, mula pa sa mga ninunong Austronesyano. Magiging hiram na kataga ang “bayani” sa Bahasa Melayong “berani” halimbawa, kung ang anyo ng katagang Tagalog ay naging “balani” tulad ng “balani” sa “batu balani” na katagang hiram sa Malayong “batu berani”…Bukod dito ginamit ni Otto Dempwolff ang Tagalog na “bayani,” kasama ng Malayong “berani” at Dyawang “wani” sa muling pagbuo ng katagang Austronesyanong “bagani” o “kawalang takot.”33
<The term ‘bayani’ is indigenous to Tagalogs, like ‘bagani’ to the Bagobos—meaning, it is not borrowed. These two words are cognates, directly inherited from the Austronesian forefathers. ‘Bayani’ will be borrowed in Malay as ‘berani,’ for example; and if the Tagalog form is ‘balani’ like the ‘balani’ in ‘batu balani’ (magical stone, magnet), it would be borrowed in Malay as ‘batu berani’… Otto Dempwolff has also used the Tagalog ‘bayani,’ along with the Malay ‘berani’ and Javanese ‘wani’ in reconstructing the Austronesian word ‘bagani’ or ‘fearless.’> [emphasis in the original]
That Bonifacio is regularly documented as bayani across time signifies
recognition that he embodies the qualities assigned to the term by early
communities of the archipelago. Bonifacio belongs to the line of leaders who have
striven to either reconstitute or unify bayan. According to Salazar, Bonifacio’s
execution at the hands of his rival Aguinaldo and his henchmen signals not just
the end of a cultural project, but represents the triumph of the political project
nación Filipina (Philippine nation) of his executioners, namely, the elite.
Historiographically Salazar draws on the hermeneutical tradition. In
his use of a complex array of ethnographical materials, oral custom and old
lexicons, he has enjoined his readers to embark on rehabilitating authority and
tradition in historiography. His work unravels the historical significance of a
dizzying etymology of concepts vis-à-vis particular contexts and events, relaying
that the Filipino culture’s being and understanding are inherently linguistic.
Interestingly, Salazar also integrates playfulness in his work. For example, by
linking batu belani with bayani, Salazar conjures Filipino folktales that feature
a magical stone that ordinary folks need to swallow before they could become
their superhero Self and serve their people. But similar to other works leaning
towards hermeneutics as an analytical philosophy, his research provides
carefully selected, interconnected fragments of historical meanings to buttress
his argument about history. He relates his complex narrative to a phenomenon
that an audience experiences and understands, therewith showcasing a complete
hermeneutical circle of understanding. 34
‘Retirement’ from Teaching
In 2000 Salazar retired from teaching at UP. But he soon proved to not have
sitzfleisch—he held a Visiting Professorial Lectureship with De la Salle
University in Manila for four years.35 Meanwhile, he has continued to write
prodigiously. Since his “retirement,” he has written more than ten single-
authored and collaborative books, some five short monographs and countless
essays. Colleagues and students imbibed in the PP project followed suit and also
wrote history essays and monographs, further distinguishing and reinforcing
their group’s position as a school of thought in historiography. In 2003, members
of this school of thought participated in what would become the annual history
seminar workshop of the history organization BAKAS (Bahay-Saliksikan sa
Kasaysayan), which was established in Germany about twenty years earlier. In
2004, its members distinguished Salazar as the Ama ng Pantayong Pananaw
(Father of Pantayong Pananaw) and Ama ng Bagong Historyograpiyang Pilipino
(Father of New Filipino Historiography).
BAKAS has not been alone in celebrating Salazar’s storied academic
career. Across the years institutions have recognized Salazar’s contribution to
the Philippine academy. The Pambansang Samahan ng Sikolohiyang Pilipino
(PSSP/National Union of Filipino Psychology) awarded him Gawad Pagkilala in
1980; the Linangan ng mga Wika ng Pilipinas (Development of Languages in the
Philippines) distinguished him with Gawad Pagkilala in 1991; the UP Sentro ng
Wikang Filipino (UP Center for Filipino Language), with Gawad Lope K. Santos
in 1996; the UP Dalubhasaan ng Agham Panlipunan at Pilosopiya (UP College of
Social Sciences and Philosophy), with Natatanging Alumnus in 2000; the PSSP,
with Gawad Sikolohiyang Pilipino in 2002; the Naga City Council for Culture and
the Arts and the Bicol Regional Council for Culture and the Arts, with Gawad
Bikolinismo: Most Outstanding Bikolano Artist for the Literary Arts in 2009; the
Unyon ng mga Manunulat sa Pilipinas (Union of Writers of the Philippines),
with the Gawad Pambansang Alagad ni Balagtas in 2009; the Wika ng Kultura
at Agham, Inc. (Language of Culture and Sciences, Inc.) with Gawad Bayani
ng Wika in 2009; the Municipality of Tiwi, Bicol, with Gawad Tibay Tiwinhon
in 2010; the San Beda College Alumni Association, with Bedan Alumni Award/
Distinguished Bedan for Social Science Award in 2012; and the Kolehiyo ng Agham
at Sining, Poletiknikong Unibersidad ng Pilipinas (College of Arts and Sciences,
Polytechnic University of the Philippines), with Gawad Kalatas in 2013. In the
following year, on the occasion of the BAKAS annual conference on history, he
was awarded with Gawad Bagong Kasaysayan to recognize his extraordinary
contribution in advocating PP and the new Filipino historiography.
Salazar has been instrumental in the Filipinization of the country’s
historiography. PP established a new breed of Filipino historians who persevere
in determining the internal mechanism(s) that allow for change in Filipino
history. PP as a school of thought has contributed in establishing Filipino as the
language of history, discourse, and intellectual exertion. Not coincidentally, the
number of MA theses and Ph.D. dissertations in Filipino at UP and universities
in Manila has grown exponentially.36 In an effort to influence historical views,
pedagogy and the profession, PP proponents continue to reach out and discuss
their research with primary and secondary schools’ teachers in annual history
conferences.
Salazar, his students and colleagues have not been spared of critique
among fellow scholars in the Philippines. Detractors have accused PP proponents
of provincialism, ethnocentrism, closed mindedness and dismissive of the
politico-economic factors that underpin change in modern history, charges that
Salazar refutes. The movement’s advocates continue to carry on with the PP
discourse in print and other fora, serving as dynamic proof of the entrenchment
of Filipino and the Filipino perspective in the study of the Philippines and
Filipinos. A foreign scholar may no longer claim to study Philippine history,
culture and society without first learning Filipino or/and any other Filipino
language.
Celebrating Zeus Salazar
The essays contained in this volume serve to celebrate Zeus Salazar’s career and
service to the Filipino academy. In “The Role of Language in the Philippines in a
Colonial and Postcolonial Context,” Marlies S. Salazar tackles the development
of language studies in the Philippines. She argues that the Spaniards and
Americans used language studies to perpetuate their authority over the islands.
She notes that from the sixteenth century onwards Spaniards rendered some
Philippine languages “understandable” by measuring and awkwardly associating
them with Latin and Spanish grammar and rhetoric. Rendering them thoroughly
knowable, however, remained elusive. The Americans, for their part, mistakenly
measured the languages of the mountainous regions of northern Luzon against
other Indo-European languages. Salazar claims that it was only in the 1930s when
Filipinos started to push back against the extensive external influence on the
study of Philippine languages. It took another forty odd years, she continues, for
Filipino to be studied seriously and used as a language of intellectual exchange
in the country’s premier state university.
Lino L. Dizon’s “Amlat and the Kapampangan Historical Tradition” is
a plaidoyer for the adoption of an autonomous historiography in Pampanga’s
local histories. Dizon laments that early Pampanga histories, even those in the
Kapampangan language, relied on colonial sources to the detriment of oral
accounts and local histories. He finds it ironic that an outsider, John Larkin,
wrote what is considered as the first serious history of the region. Nevertheless,
Dizon asserts that Larkin glossed over nuances in Pampanga’s narrative for
he had not fully harnessed available Kapampangan historical materials. This
pertains especially so to the participation of the people of Pampanga in the
Philippine Revolution. For Dizon, Pampanga’s history would be more complete
if it accounted for amlat (legend) and kaselaysayan (history) in addition to
colonial sources. Dizon champions the mining of knowledge from folklore,
folktales, folksongs and literature in history-writing.
In Ferdinand Philip Victoria’s chapter on the 1905 Report of the Philippine
Opium Commission, he claims that the Report catapulted the United States’
campaign against drug trade and, consequently, its rise as a morally upright
empire. Initiated by the newly arrived American administrators, the Report
featured interviews with Filipino physicians and administrators concerning
opium use, bringing to the fore the ethnic, cultural and socio-economic
dimension of drug abuse across the islands. According to Victoria, the Report
convinced American policy makers of the viability of “progressive prohibition.”
He asserts, however, that the American officials were not entirely to blame for
the state’s punitive stance against users. Responsibility should be shared by their
Filipino interlocutors.
Cecilia de la Paz examines the repercussions of contemporary museum
practice of displaying objects of everyday life, as these displays play a prominent
political role in the identity construction and the imagination of the Filipino
nation. She contends that at the national museum such displays tend to exoticize
and estrange the Filipino to the viewing Filipino audience. As reified objects, the
collection and the displayed embody representations of loss—innocence, purity,
meaning—in Filipino culture. Instead, De la Paz champions the establishment
of living museums. Drawing on her experience in Negros Occidental, she
asserts that communities should be (with assistance) responsible for conceiving,
collecting, displaying and maintaining objects at their local museums. Regularly,
displays could be changed as views of the community changes. In this way, the
museum would serve as an ideal place of learning and engagement for the
community upon which is also on display.
In Wilfried Wagner’s “Yearning for Nativeness,” the European fascination
with and search for his natural self, first articulated by Jean-Jacques Rousseau,
is intertwined with the colonial conquest of the Asian and African world.
Wagner purports that the Europeans’ hunger to see and experience their lost
innocence encouraged the collection and display of ensembles and appendages
of ‘discovered’ peoples in museums or, sometimes, ‘universal exhibition’ in
Western metropolises from the nineteenth century onwards. Wagner intimates
that a similar drive--a yearning to capture nativeness--was behind celebrated
director Paul Fejòs’s pursuit, in 1937, to capture the Siuban on Mentawai of the
Netherlands East Indies in a documentary. But Fejòs’s yearning might have been
compromised by his equally urgent desire to relay a visually engaging ‘scripted’
film--for dramatization, for instance, he falsely inserted foreign objects as
objects of the Siuban’s daily life. His financiers in Stockholm found the outcome
inferior, so they dispatched a company official to ostensibly assist Fejòs in filming
further documentaries.
My essay recounts the unique progression of German consideration of
the Filipino Revolution through previously untapped sources--the newspapers
from the north-western city-state of Bremen. I argue that the newspapers’
extensive coverage of the uprising went beyond the typical narrative for it sought
to demonstrate the German Self and its place in Asia and Europe for readers at
home. The reports fed the German desire for and fascination with establishing a
colonial presence in the Pacific, which, in turn, was considered a valuable ticket
that would enable Germany to participate in and be respected as a power in late
nineteenth century Weltpolitik (world politics).
Saliba James provides an overview of the narrative of the Filipino
immigrant workers in his “Human Rights Protection for “Naija Pinoys”: Overseas
Filipino Workers in Nigeria.” James claims that, lured by the attractive salaries
and living packages offered by Nigerian companies, Filipino workers started
migrating to Nigeria in the 1960s. Only the economic misfortunes brought about
by the country’s political volatility in the mid-1980s briefly disturbed the steady
arrival of Filipinos. For James, Filipinos continue to take up posts in Nigeria
for they have always enjoyed freedoms and protection of their human rights
there; the dialogue between the United Nations Global Forum on Migration
and Development and Civil Society Organizations assures their safety. In the
1990s, as James explains, Filipino workers increasingly declared their trust in
the Nigerian system by taking up permanent residency. They began to call
themselves “Naija Pinoys” (colloquial for Nigerian Filipinos), leading expatriate
lives punctuated with the injection of elements of Filipino culture. According
to James, the Filipino experience in Nigeria signals the efficacy of combining
economic benefits with respect for human rights.
Using a heretofore unused book Orang Indonesia jang Terkemoeka di
Djawa (Famous Indonesians on Java, or OITD) published by the Japanese Army
Information Services in 1944, Gusti Asnan illustrates that the Minangkabau of
West Sumatra, well-known for their migratory habits, comprised the largest
immigrant ethnic group in Java during the Japanese occupation. The OITD
shows that the well-known Minangkabaus were highly educated and long
established on Java, even during Dutch rule, for the Dutch had introduced a
Western system of education in West Sumatra in the 1840s. In addition to their
traditional migratory practice, Minangkabau who benefitted from their modern
education either filled positions or furthered their education throughout Java.
Unwittingly, they played instrumental roles in the public and private sectors
during the Dutch and subsequent Japanese regime. According to Asnan, the
national prominence of the Minangkabau declined in the 1960s, consequent
to the establishment of the Pemerintah Revolusioner Republik Indonesia
(Revolutionary Government of the Republic of Indonesia) that aimed to form a
Sumatra-based central government against Sukarnos’ Guided Democracy. The
Jakarta-based military suppressed the rebellion quite handily, thereby denying
Minangkabau from holding civil and military office.
In all, the contributions in this volume attest to some of Zeus Salazar’s
academic achievements—they showcase the scholarship of individuals he has
touched and they demonstrate a myriad of research topics in Philippine history
and historiography, Philippine Studies and Southeast Asian Studies with which
he relates. They are illustrative of Salazar’s dedication to progressive pedagogy
and scholarly inquiry. Bringing to fore some of his ideals, they provide a window
onto his project for the international academy.
Endnotes
1 Zeus Salazar, “Doctrina Cristiana,” in Zeus A. Salazar, Mga Tula ng Pag- iral at Pakikibaka (Lunsod Quezon: Palimbagan ng Lahi, 2001), p. 210.
2 Zeus Salazar, “Ang Pagtuturo ng Kasaysayan sa Pilipino,” in General Education Journal 19-20, 1970-71 (Quezon City: University of the Philippines, 1971), p. 37.
3 Ibid.
4 On these topics, see: Patricio Abinales, Fellow Traveler. Essays on Filipino Communism (Quezon City: University of the Philippines Press, 2001; Ferdinand Llanes (ed.), Tibak Rising. Activism in the Days of Martial Law (Mandaluyong City: T’bak Inc. and Anvil Publishing Inc., 2012); Susan F. Quimpo and Nathan Gilbert Quimpo, Subversive Lives. A Family Memoir of the Marcos Years (Mandaluyong City: Anvil Publishing Inc., 2012); Mark Thomson, The Anti- Marcos Struggle. Personalistic Rule and Democratic Transition in the Philippines (Quezon City: New Day Publishers, 1996); Kathleen Weekley, The Communist
Party of the Philippines, 1968-1993: A Story of its Theory and Practice (Quezon City: University of the Philippines Press, 2001).
5 Atoy Navarro, “Ama ng Pantayong Pananaw: Bayan sa Buhay ni Prop. Dr. Zeus Salazar (1934-Kasalukuyan),” in Bahay-Saliksikan ng Kasaysayan. Natatanging Lathalain (Quezon City: BAKAS, 2004), p. 4.
6 Zeus Salazar, “Ukol sa Wika at Kulturang Pilipino,” in Mga Bagong Pag-aaral sa Wika, Literatura, at Kultura: Dyornal ng Malawakang Edukasyon, XXIII-XXIV, 1972-1973, p. 63.
7 On Sikolohiyang Pilipino, see: Marie Madelene Sta. Maria, “Die Indigenisierungskrise in den Sozialwissenschaftern und der Versuch einer Resolution in Sikolohiyang Pilipino,” Ph.D. Diss., Universität Köln, 1993.
8 Virgilio Enriquez, “Sikolohiyang Pilipino: Perspektibo at Direksyon,” in Rogelia Pe-pua (Pat.), Sikolohiyang Pilipino. Teorya, Metodo at Gamit (Lunsod Quezon: University of the Philippines Press at Akademya ng Sikolohiyang Pilipino, 1989), p. 6.
9 Ibid., pp. 17-18.
10 Virgilio Enriquez, “Mga Batayan ng Sikolohiyang Pilipino sa Kultura at Kasaysayan,” in Pe-pua, Sikolohiyang Pilipino, p. 69.
11 Zeus Salazar, “Ilang Batayan Para sa Isang Sikolohiyang Pilipino,” in Pe-pua, Sikolohiyang Pilipino, p. 53.
12 Sta. Maria, “Die Indigenisierungskrise in den Sozialwissenschaften,” p. 227.
13 Salazar, “Ukol sa Wika at Kulturang Pilipino, p. 72.
14 Zeus Salazar, “Historiography and the Idealist-Romantic Attitude in Philippine Historical Writing,” Lecture at a Graduate Seminar, 17 January 1979, p. 3.
15 Ibid., p. 12.
16 Ibid., p. 14.
17 Out of this project came: Ferdinand Marcos, Tadhana. The History of the Filipino People. Vols. I-VI (Manila: 1976-86).
18 For an account of the involvement of historians, including Salazar, in Marcos’s Tadhana project, see: Zeus Salazar, “Ang Historiograpiya ng Tadhana: Isang Malayang Paggunita-Panayan”; Romeo V. Cruz, “Ang Paggawa ng Tadhana Mula 1980”; Virgilio Enriquez, “Ang Hangganan ng Kapantasan: Isang Reaksyon
sa Historiograpiya ng Tadhana”; “Malayang Talakayan” in Ma. Bernadette Abrera and Dedina Lapar (Mga Pat.), Paksa, Paraan at Pananaw sa Kasaysayan (Quezon City: UP Departamento ng Kasaysayan, UP LIKAS, BAKAS, 1992), pp. 193-217.
19 Navarro, “Ama ng Pantayong Pananaw,” p. 5.
20 Zeus Salazar, “A Legacy of the Propaganda: The Tripartite View of Philippine history,” in The Ethnic Dimension. Papers on Philippine Culture, History and Psychology (Cologne: CARITAS, 1983), p. 108.
21 Ibid., p. 125-26.
22 Ibid., p. 126.
23 Ramon Guillermo, “Expositions, Critique and New Directions for Pantayong Pananaw,” Kyoto Review of Southeast Asia 3, March 2003, pp. 2-3.
24 Zeus Salazar, “Ang Pantayong Pananaw: Isang Paliwanag,” in Philippine Currents Vol. IV, No. 9. September 1989, p. 56.
25 For a further analysis, see Portia Reyes, “Fighting over a Nation: Theorizing a Filipino Historiography,” in Postcolonial Studies Vol. 11, No. 3, p. 248.
26 See: Prospero Covar, “Pilipinolohiya,” Typescript, College of Social Sciences and Philosophy, UP Diliman, Quezon City, 9 November 1989. Also in: Prospero Covar, Larangan. Seminal Essays on Philippine Culture (Manila: National Commission for Culture and the Arts, 1998).
27 Pilipinolohiya is an offshoot of a Ph.D. program on Philippine Studies, which was introduced at the University of the Philippines in 1974.
28 Covar, “Pilipinolohiya,” in Larangan, p. 27.
29 Zeus Salazar, “Philippine Studies and Pilipinolohiya: Past, Present and Future of Two Heuristic Views in the Study of the Philippines,” in Zeus Salazar, The Malayan Connection: Ang Pilipinas sa Dunia Melayu (Lunsod Quezon: Palimbagan ng Lahi, 1998), p. 313.
30 Navarro, “Ama ng Pantayong Pananaw,” p. 7.
31 Zeus Salazar, “Ang Pantayong Pananaw Bilang Diskursong Pangkabihasnan,” in Bautista at Pe-pua, Pilipinolohiya: Kasaysayan, Pilosopiya at Pananaliksik (Maynila: Kalikasan Press, 1991). Also in Atoy Navarro, Mary Jane Rodriguez and Vicente Villan (Mga Pat.), Pantayong Pananaw: Ugat at Kabuluhan. Pambungad sa Pag-aaral ng Bagong Kasaysayan (Lunsod Quezon:
Palimbagang Kalawakan, 1997), p. 103.
32 Zeus Salazar, “Ang Bayani Bilang Sakripisyo: Pag-aanyo ng Pagkabayani sa Agos ng Kasaysayang Pilipino,” Balangkas ng Panayam. Kumperensya ng ADHIKA, Unibersidad ng Tarlac, 29 Nobyembre 1994, p. 6.
33 Zeus Salazar, “Si Andres Bonifacio at ang Kabayanihang Pilipino,” in Bagong Kasaysayan 2, 1997, p. 8.
34 Reyes, “Fighting over the Nation,” pp. 248-9.
35 I thank Ma. Carmen Peñalosa for this detail.
36 For a preliminary look on this development, see: Nilo Ocampo, “Mga Disertasyong NakaFilipino: Tungo sa Pambansang Iskolarsyip,” in Lagda. Publikasyon ng Departamento ng Filipino at Panitikan ng Pilipinas (Quezon City: UP KAL, Hulyo 1993).
THE ROLE OF LANGUAGE IN THE PHILIPPINES IN A COLONIAL AND POSTCOLONIAL CONTEXT
Marlies S. Salazar
Abstrak:
Tinatalakay ng sanaysay na ito ang papel ng wika sa kasaysayan ng Pilipinas. Matagal nang pinag-aaralan ang mga wika sa Pilipinas sa pananaw ng mga banyaga. Parehong ginamit ng Kastila at Amerikanong kapangyarihang kolonyal ang pag-aaral ng mga wika sa Pilipinas hindi dahil sa kanilang maka-agham na pang-uusisa, ngunit dahil sa kanilang pangangailangang sakupin ang kapuluan. Para sa mga Kastila, hindi mapaghihiwalay ang kolonisasyon sa Kristiyanisasyon sapagkat kinakailangang ang lahat ng sakop ng Hari ng Espanya ay Katoliko rin. Nagsulat ang mga Kastilang misyonero ng mga balarila at diksiyonaryo ng mga pangunahing wika sa Pilipinas upang akitin ang mga katutubo sa Katolisismo at maging matatapat na sakop ng Espanya. Dahilan dito, naging kasangkapan ng kolonisasyon ang lingguwistika. Sapagkat hindi nasakop ng mga Kastila ang mga pamayanan sa kabundukan at ang mga Muslim sa Timog, hindi rin nila napag-aralan ang kanilang mga wika. Matagal pa bago mapag-aaralan ang mga ito. Sa ikalabinsiyam na siglo binigyang-pansin ng mga Europeong siyentista, kabilang na si Wilhelm von Humboldt, ang Pilipinas. Noong 1898, matapos sakupin ang Maynila, nagtatag ang mga Amerikano ng mga eskuwelahang elementarya kung saan Ingles ang wikang panturo. Sinimulan dito ang Amerikanisasyon ng Pilipinas. Noong 1953, sa panahon ng Cold War, nagtungo ang Summer School of Linguistics sa Pilipinas upang pag-aralan ang wika ng mga grupong minoridad. Sa sanaysay na ito susuriin ang papel ng mga aspetong nabanggit kaugnay ng mga pagpupunyagi ng Pilipinong espesyalista sa lingguwistika na pag-aralan ang kanilang mga wika upang makabuo ng teorya kaugnay ng mga disiplinang lingguwistika, antropolohiya, sikolohiya at kasaysayan mula sa loob ng Pilipinas, katulad ng minimithi at tunguhin ng Pantayong Pananaw.
30 SALAZAR: The Role Of Language In The Philippines
Introduction
This paper is an attempt to describe the role of language in the history of the
Philippines in a colonial and postcolonial context, from the “discovery” of the
Philippines by Magellan to the Americanization of the country in the twentieth
century. For almost five centuries Philippine languages were described primarily
from the perspective of foreigners. Both colonial powers, the Spanish as well as
the Americans, studied Philippine languages not out of scientific interest, but
as a means of colonizing the country.
The Philippines are an archipelago of 7107 islands, where more than
100 languages are spoken, of which the majority belongs to the Malayo-
Polynesian language family, a branch of the Austronesian languages. Since 1946
the Philippines have been an independent country; but from 1521 to 1898 they
were a Spanish colony, and after a short interlude of independence, which they
had declared in 1898, they were sold by Spain to the United States of America
in the Treaty of Paris. Although the Filipinos continued to struggle for their
independence until 1902, they eventually became a colony of the United States
of America until 1946.
The archipelago consists of three main groups: the Northern island of
Luzon with the capital Manila, a group of islands in the center called Bisayas,
and the southern island of Mindanao, which is partly inhabited by Muslims.
Since 1973 the official languages of the Republic of the Philippines are Filipino
and English. 82.9 % of the population are Catholics, a result of the long Spanish
colonial period, and only 5 % are Muslims. The population growth is enormous:
if at the beginning of the twentieth century, in 1903, there were only 7,635,426
inhabitants, in 1948 there were already 19,234,182; in 1980, 48, 098,410; in 2000,
76,458,614; in 2010, 92,337,8521; in 2013, presumably 95 million inhabitants.
This enormous population growth leads to great social and economic problems,
forcing many people to look abroad for job opportunities.
The Spanish Period (1521-1898)
The Philippines were “discovered” in 1521 by Ferdinand Magellan, a Portuguese
adventurer in the service of Spain, who lost his life in the course of events. But
one of his companions the Italian Antonio Pigafetta brought an interesting
report back to Europe, which also includes a very interesting word-list.2 Further
Spanish expeditions followed, and in 1541 the archipelago was named after the
Spanish Infant Felipe, “Islas Filipinas.” In 1565 the first Spanish settlement was
founded in Cebu by Miguel López de Legaspi and in 1571 Manila was declared
capital of the colony. For the Spaniards colonization and mission always went
hand in hand--the subjects of the Spanish king had to be Catholics. This was a
logical consequence of the Reconquista, i.e. of the expulsion of the Muslims from
the Iberian Peninsula between 1213-1492, followed by the expulsion of the Jews
and the Moriscos (converted Muslims) from Spain, as well as of the colonization
of Latin America.
The evangelization in the colonies was supposed to be done in Spanish,
because Spanish was, according to them, after Latin, the highest language, i.e.
the language closest to God’s word. This had already been the practice in the
Spanish colonies in Latin America half a century earlier and was supposed to
be the practice also in the Philippines. But the missionaries soon found out
that this was practically impossible because there were simply too few of them
living among the many indigenous people to teach them Spanish. Therefore the
missionaries started to write grammars and dictionaries of the most important
Philippine languages from the early seventeenth century on, in order to convert
the people to Catholicism and to make them loyal subjects of the King of Spain.
It is in this regard that linguistics became an instrument of colonization. Since
the Spaniards could not conquer the peoples in the mountainous north and
the Muslims in the south, they initially did not study their languages. That
happened much later.
In 1580 the Franciscans issued the order to publish dictionaries
and grammars of Tagalog, the language spoken in and around Manila. The
first grammar was by Juan de Plasencia (not preserved); the second, by San
Buanaventura (1613). The grammars were written according to the grammatical
system of Latin, because Latin grammar was considered to be the universal
grammar created by God. They followed the model of the Spanish grammar
of Antonio de Nebrija3 and did not take into consideration the structure of
Philippine languages. Still the amount of work done was enormous: the known
number of grammars and dictionaries is very high. According to Joaquin Sueiro
Justel4 there are 119 of these works, alone for the most important Philippine
languages: Tagalog, Bisaya and Ilocano, followed by Bikol and Pampango.
In the early Spanish Period there were four religious orders in the
Philippines: the Augustinians, the Dominicans, the Franciscans and the Jesuits.
To avoid quarrels among them the colonial government decided that all four
orders were allowed to work in Manila, but otherwise they were assigned
different regions. The Augustinians, who had arrived in 1575, were assigned to
Manila, Cebu and Iloilo; the Franciscans (1578), to Manila, Southern Luzon and
Bikol; the Dominicans (1581), to Bataan, Pangasinan and the Cagayan Valley;
the Jesuits (1581-1773), to Manila, Samar and Leyte; the Augustinian and the
Jesuits had to share Mindanao. The Augustianian Recollects who arrived in 1612
had to build their church outside Intramuros and worked mainly in Zambales,
Pampanga, Negros and Palawan. But all of them considered Tagalog, which was
spoken in and around the capital Manila, as the most important language of the
Philippines, and they wrote many dictionaries and grammars for Tagalog. The
missionaries first converted the lowlanders, because they were easier to reach
and offered less resistance than the highlanders.
On the one hand these grammars and dictionaries are valuable sources
for the language and culture of the Filipinos in the seventeenth and eighteenth
century. On the other hand they suffer from the fact that the Spaniards described
Philippine languages according to the model of the Latin grammar, just as Nebrija
had described the Spanish language according to the Latin model. A marked
disconnection occurred here. Nebrija had chosen an appropriate analogy--the
Spanish and the Latin language belonged to the same language family. Philippine
languages, however, belong to the Malayo-Polynesian language family and are
structurally different from Latin. In their effort to read Philippine languages
through Latin, hence, the Spaniards introduced declensions and conjugations,
which do not exist in Philippine languages. They introduced concepts like
nombres, verbos, adjetivos, voces (passiva/activa), ablativos, preteritos, pretiritos,
futuros etc. and subjected Philippine languages to the grammatical categories
of Latin. And since they could not imagine a language without the auxiliary verb
“to be,” they often adopted the mysterious verbal form “sung,” which does not
really exist, in their manuscripts.
They also rejected the ancient Philippine alphabets called “baybayin,”
which were syllabaries, where the Spaniards could not find their own vowels and
consonants. These alphabets were widespread and were written on palm leaves
or bamboo. They were used not only for letters and contracts, but also for things
which had to do with traditional religious beliefs. Therefore the Spanish friars
considered them as works of the devil and burned them.5
Today the baybayin are used only by the Mangyans in Mindoro and the
Tagbanuwa in Palawan, but they have fascinated European scholars for a long
time. For example Wilhelm von Humboldt devoted most of the volume III of
his monumental work On the Kawi Language on the Island Java6 to Tagalog. He
thought that the Philippine alphabets were related to South-Indian alphabets;7
he considered Tagalog to be the most important and highly developed language
of the Malayo-Polynesian language family. Although Humboldt based his study
of the language on Spanish grammars of Tagalog, especially on the famous
grammar by Sebastian de Totanes,8 he also criticized him for dividing arbitrarily
Tagalog verbs into 17 different conjugations and conjugating them according to
the Spanish tradition.
The Spaniards translated Christian beliefs into the Philippine languages,
but kept words like Dios, Espiritu Santo and Jesucristo, because they could not
find an equivalent for them or they did not want to use the indigenous words
for God like bathala or anito. The indigenous words for gods, spirits or ancestors
were considered to represent superstitions and their statues as idolos, which had
to be burned. This condemnation of indigenous gods, ancestors and spirits did
not prevent Filipinos from continuing to believe in them and to integrate them
somehow into their religious practices. There are examples of this syncretism
up to now.
In his book on the role of translation in the conversion of the Tagalogs
in the early Spanish period, Vicente Rafael gives very interesting examples of
the misunderstandings which occurred in the translation of Spanish concepts
into Tagalog.9 The Spaniards translated soul to loob, which refers to the inside
of a person, the inside of a house etc. and can be used in many other contexts
in the Tagalog language. Sin was translated as hiya, which means shame. The
last sacrament given to the dying became baon, meaning food one takes on a
journey. Unwittingly the Tagalogs interpreted the new religion in their own
way and continued to believe that you have to pacify the souls of the dead by
providing provisions for their travel to the other world.
Filipinos were called Indios like the South American indigenous
groups, which had been colonized half a century earlier. This came from the
original misunderstanding of Christopher Columbus, who thought that he had
discovered India when he arrived in the Caribbean.
The Philippines were not administered directly from Madrid; until 1821
it was considered a province of the Spanish Vice-Royalty of New Spain (Mexico)
which was represented by a Governor General in Manila. In the villages outside
Manila Spanish power was represented mostly by the friars, who conspired to
transform the scattered rural settlements into bigger villages (poblaciones)
around the church. These poblaciones provided the friars better control of the
newly converted population, making the church collection of tributes and taxes
from them easier. Their knowledge of the native languages and spiritual authority
gave the friars more power than the Spanish colonial administration, which
sat behind walls of the fortified city of Manila Intramuros. The friars’ desire to
retain this position of power fuelled their strong opposition to the Filipino elite’s
plea for liberalization and independence in the nineteenth century. The Spanish
friars had a dual role in Philippine history: their linguistic studies contributed
to the knowledge of the major Philippine languages, but these selfsame studies
also contributed to the Spanish colonization of the country.
Many Spanish words found their way into Philippine languages, mostly
in family and place names, but are also integrated in Philippine grammatical
structures.
Creole or Chabacano, which is based on Spanish, still exists and has
existed for 400 years. Today it has only very few speakers in Cavite, Zamboanga
and Davao, and is already extinct in Ermita, a district of Manila.
Very few Filipinos spoke Spanish. Towards the end of the Spanish
period only 10% of the population could speak this language and they
belonged mostly to the Spanish-Filipino elite. Until the 1920s the elite fought
against the influence of English and wrote their literature and newspapers in
Spanish. Interestingly the Spanish-speaking elite tried to establish contact
with the regime of General Franco in Spain and became part of the so-called
“Falange Exterior.” The President of the University of Santo Tomas even named
General Franco Honorary President of the university and expressed the hope
that Franco would one day reestablish the Spanish empire that included the
Philippines.10 The elite’s hope was of course not realized, but they did achieve
the preservation of Spanish as one of the official languages of the Philippines
until 1973. Nowadays only 3% of the Filipinos speak Spanish, although it has
been an obligatory subject in the universities for many years.
When the Austrian specialist on the Philippines Ferdinand Blumentritt
published his “Attempt at an Ethnography of the Philippines with an
Ethnographic Map of the Philippines” in 1882 he concluded that the Spaniards
only knew the areas near the coasts and the plains, and had very little knowledge
of the areas in the mountains and on far-away islands of the archipelago.11 The
population of a part of Mindanao and the islands of Basilan and Tawi-Tawi are
Muslim, but the Spaniards had never been able to colonize them. The Spaniards
called them “Moros.” And even the colonization and conversion of the peoples
from the mountainous region took a long time. These peoples were not easily
reached and they defended themselves very well. The Spaniards called all of
them “Igorot,” a general term they used to refer to all “wild”, i.e. not baptized,
people.
In reality the linguistic situation in the Philippines is much more
complicated than the Spaniards ever knew. Every ethno-linguistic group has its
own name and there are about 100 of them in the Philippines, maybe even more.
Linguists differ on this subject, which is dependent on their standards on the
limits between language and dialect.
As far as this essay is concerned with minor languages, I will limit myself
to the history of the discovery of the ethno-linguistic groups in the Cordillera
Central. The Apayao, Tingguian, Kalinga, Bontok, Kankanai, Ifugao, Ibaloy,
Gaddang, and Ilongot live in this mountainous region of Northern Luzon. In
William Henry Scott’s The Discovery of the Igorots the Spaniards’ vision of gold
mines in the mountains fanned the Spanish desire to conquer the Igorots.12 In
1571, six months after the fall of Manila, Miguel de Legazpi’s grandson Juan de
Salcedo went on an expedition to north Luzon and came back with 50 pounds
of gold. Four years later he died on his way to the gold mines. Many Spanish
expeditions succumbed to the superior fighting ability of the Igorots. The
missionaries didn’t fare any better; in 1584 the Augustinians had their first
martyr--Fray Esteban Marin, who was tied to a tree and beheaded. Henceforth
the Igorots were believed to be headhunters and cannibals. By the 18th century
the Spaniards knew that conquering the Igorots was indeed difficult; in fact, they
could not even prevent their comings and goings from their mountain homes
and their trade with the Christianized lowlanders. Therefore the colonizers tried
to employ a new strategy: they encircled the Igorots by establishing so-called
reducciones (from reducir i.e. to subject) halfway up the mountains. Reducciones
were fortified settlements of baptized Filipinos, under Spanish military
administration. This soft approach to the colonization of the north changed
in the 19th century, however. Fueled by the desire to take advantage of the gold
and copper mines and missions in the mountains and irked by its inhabitant
Igorots, who undermined the Spanish tobacco monopoly and hence deprived
the government of revenues, the Spaniards renewed their quest of conquering
the region. With better firearms they raided Igorot villages, destroyed houses
and rice-terraces and established military commands. The year 1880 marked
their intensified occupation of this region, punctuated by the arrival of Don
Fernando Primo de Rivera, Marquis de Estrella, who was Governor General of the
Philippine from 1880 to 1882, and again from 1897 to 1898. When their military
expeditions failed, the Spaniards tried to forge alliances with Igorots. Some
of those who cooperated were sent to Madrid to man the Igorot village at the
colonial Exposición de las Islas Filipinas in June 1887. José Rizal was extremely
upset about this degrading exhibition of Igorots in Madrid, as he wrote to his
friend, Ferdinand Blumentritt:
Kümmern Sie sich nicht über die Exposicion de Filipinas in Madrid. Meinen Nachrichten, und den spanischen Zeitungen nach, ist es keine Ausstellung von den Philippinen, sondern nur von Igorotten, die Musik spielen werden, Küche machen, singen und tanzen. Aber ich fürchte mich ob den armen Leuten. Sie sollen in dem Madrider Zoologischen Garten sich ausstellen, mit ihren Kleidern: sie werden eine köstliche Lungenentzündung bekommen, da dies die häufigste Krankheit in Madrid ist: es bekommen die Madrider selbst trotz dem Überzeug.
<Don’t bother about the Exposition of the Philippines in Madrid; from my informants and what the Spanish papers write, it’s no Exhibition of the Philippines at all, but of the Igorots who will play music, do their cooking and dance. I am afraid for the poor people. They have to expose themselves in the Madrid Zoological Garden in their clothes: they will
catch a severe pneumonia, since this is the most frequent illness in Madrid, even the inhabitants of Madrid get it in spite of their warm clothes.> 13
This exhibition, which took place in the Retiro Park in Madrid, was an
attempt by the Spanish government to show to the public its colonial possessions
in the Far East, not only the Philippines, but also Palau, the Marianas and the
Caroline Islands. It displayed the flora and fauna of the islands, as well as the
scientific publications on their ethno-linguistic groups and their languages.14
Prepared by Spanish officials and friars in the Philippines, the exhibition
emphasized the necessary continuation of the “civilizing mission” of Spain. It
contrasted “advanced” Spain, symbolized by the Crystal Palace, and “backward”
Philippines, symbolized by the nipa huts of the Igorot village. It showcased
Igorots, one Negrito and Moros, and set aside lowlanders as well as the political
claims of the indigenous intellectual elite. However, the exhibition did not attain
its goal of contributing to the continuation of Spanish power in the Philippines.
In his article on the intentions and consequences of the exhibition,
Reinhard Wendt notes that the 1887 exhibits have been preserved. Devoid of
any comment on the colonial context in which its components were collected,
this exhibition comprises the core of the Philippine collection of the Museo
Nacional de Antropología in Madrid today.15
The Spaniards had to leave the mountains of Northern Luzon after
the Philippine revolution and the arrival of the Americans in 1898, i.e. 325
years after the first attempt by Juan de Salcedo to reach the gold mines. They
had not acquired much knowledge about the Igorots. They didn’t even know
that the Igorots were actually many different mountain tribes with their own
languages. These observations were made only by some nineteenth century
German travelers, who were driven more by scientific curiosity than by military
or religious interest.
European scientists like Peter Simon Pallas, Franz Carl Alter, Johann
Christoph Adelung, Lorenzo Hervas, Wilhelm von Humboldt, Franz Bopp,
Friedrich Müller, Hans Conon von der Gabelentz and his son Hans-Georg
Conon von der Gabelentz, and Hendrik Kern had been interested in Philippine
languages.16 Purely scientific interest in comparative linguistic studies in Europe
interested them, not colonial linguistics.
It was only in the nineteenth century, after the end of the Galleon Trade
between Manila and Acapulco in 1815 and especially after the opening of the
Suez Canal in 1869 that more non-Spanish traders and explorers came to the
Philippines, among them German travelers like Fedor Jagor, Carl Semper, Hans
Meyer and Alexander Schadenberg. Fedor Jagor, son of Russian immigrants in
Berlin, traveled between 1859 and 1860 to the Philippines and wrote his Travels
in the Philippines, which still makes very interesting reading.17 He did not travel
to the Cordillera Central, but to the Bikol provinces and the Bisayas. He was one
of the first Europeans who climbed the Mayon volcano in Albay. In Camarines
Sur, while climbing the Yriga volcano he noticed that the Spaniards called the
small groups of Negritos living there ‘Igorots’, and so he wrote that the term was
apparently a general term for wild tribes.18 Jagor found the Negritos to be very
peaceful hunters and gatherers.
Carl Semper was a young scientist who traveled between 1858 and 1863
in the Philippines and Palau. In May 1860 he hiked across the Sierra Madre
mountains to Isabela province and visited the Kalinga ethno-linguistic group, of
which he made the first ethnographic description.19 Later he became professor
in Würzburg and published three volumes about the Philippines and a book
about Palau.20
In 1882, during his voyage around the world, German geographer
Hans Meyer spent four months in the Philippines and particularly went to the
provinces Benguet and Lepanto and the east of the province Abra. On March
27, 1883 he discussed this visit in his lecture before the Ethnological Society of
Berlin, emphasizing the customs and traditions of the inhabitant non-Christian
tribes he encountered in the region.21 He claimed that the Igorots in Benguet and
Lepanto speak four different dialects: Inibaloi, Kankanai, a northern variant of
Kankanai in the Abra valley and Lepanto. Hans Meyer wrote a few articles on
the Igorots and a book about his voyage around the world, where he dedicated
chapter 12 and the appendix on the Igorots.22 Upon his return he entered the
publishing house of hi

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