Examining the national scene, it might really seem that Jose Rizal and his philosophy of nationhood is meaningless today, totally irrelevant. For in the nation conceived by our hero, who could ever believe that brother could kill brother and cover up the deliberately planned murder of 57 opposition politicians and journalists with backhoes, as what happened in the Maguindanao massacre on November 23, 2009?
Rizal worked hard to write and educate his countrymen about a nation of many regions and varied cultures. In the late 19th century, the words “nation” and “nationhood” were, for the first time, used as a unifying force in the struggle for independence against Spain. Just over a hundred years since the death of Rizal, has this understanding of one nation been lost in the mire of political rivalry and the drive for power? Today, do we still have to fight for our freedom from our own peoples?
Though the Philippines is rich in natural resources, private fishermen, and now many fishing syndicates, use dynamite to catch fish and other marine life. This kind of fishing off the shores of Camarines and many other choice fishing areas not only kills all future fish life, it destroys plant life and precious undersea coral, thus depriving our future generations of abundant fish and the beauties of the Philippine deep. In Dapitan, Rizal sought to develop agricultural variety and create farms that could sustain the community, both for income and for food. In many ways he was an environmentalist, a preserver of nature. Have we lost these lessons?
For decades, some old churches in the Philippines are being pilfered of their sacred artefacts, with individuals—lay and clerical—running thriving businesses selling colorum santitos, altars, virgins and the large saints used in processions. Are we still under “friar” exploitation?
Currently, a small group of young historians and performing artists are offering a tour of Intramuros by tramvia. It is coupled with a “social” visit to the Rizal National Shrine at Fort Santiago, hosted by Doña Teodora Alonso, the mother of Rizal. Fr. Francisco de Paula Sanchez, SJ, José’s favorite Jesuit teacher, narrates the events of Rizal’s last days, leading to his execution by firing squad. Josephine Bracken laments the loss of her lover, but anguishes over the greater loss to his country, the man who forged the nationhood of his land. At the end, Father Sanchez turns to the audience, repeating Rizal’s final words, “Consummatum est. It is finished.”
But in the original Latin, consummatum does not only mean the end, it also means, “it is achieved,” meaning Rizal’s whole life has reached its fulfillment in death by firing squad, because now he is the convicted filibustero, the one who disdained, disowned and dared rise against Spain. And this event in Bagumbayan augured the Philippine revolution.
Father Sanchez turns to the audience and looks each one in the eye. “Yes, it is consummated, it is ended. But now, what will you bring home? Did Rizal die for nothing?”
Patty Flores and her classmates, young professionals who just graduated from business school, responded in their own personal way. In their graduation year, the girls had been searching for more meaningful courses and came across Social Support for Entrepreneurs, a part of the business course curriculum. The course emphasized rigid business principles with a profit orientation, but featured a major dimension in social orientation, that is business that helps the community.
The group, composed of Lalaine Jertrude Hablado, Charisse Anne Paras, Charlyn Rochel Yu, Anina Favis and Patricia Flores, met with a number of women in Payatas, Quezon City, and listened to their problems: how do they earn money to sustain their families, and yet be available to take care of children and household chores? Patty and her classmates set up a system of making “embellished” slippers by hand (sewing jewels and beads), using new materials and simple tools. Working from trendy magazines and latest fashion tastes, she designed several models of slippers. Patterns were distributed to the women, to focus on a particular color or size, to reduce production errors and ensure quality. Some 11 mothers joined the first undertaking, each working only at home. For this social business, the students mustered P50,000 to cover the production costs. By the end of a year, most of the women in the community were making slippers. Gaisano Mall in Davao read about the project in Entrepreneur magazine, and bought their stocks. Bejewelled, their name for the project, started as an experiment in socially supported entrepreneurship in rural and less-favored economic areas. Bejewelled served the community, not just one’s pockets.
On another scale of business, did you know there are more than 700,000 sari-sari stores in the Philippines? Microbusiness adventurer, Bam Aquino went investigating the workings of sari-sari stores. They were actually purchasing their stocks at the usual sales price from larger suppliers and selling them with a slight mark-up. But they could not compete with larger chains and grocers, even though these were often in distant towns. Bam suggested grouping sari-sari stores together and bulk-purchasing. This already made a major improvement in savings and increased income. With the first capital accumulated, they began producing and marketing their own products like Hapinoy banana ketsup and Hapinoy pansit canton. Now several hundred sari-sari enterprises are members of Hapinoy Stores, under Bam’s MicroVentures Inc. According to Mark Ruiz, a founder of Hapinoy, “We wanted to fuse social development with the discipline of business.”
Analogous to Rizal’s own vision of assisting his tenants to own their land and advance socially and economically through education, with Hapinoy, it was a question of confronting the “bottom of the pyramid,” the less-favored economic groups and assisting in self-development.
Yes, Rizal is totally irrelevant for those destroying our country today, and they are many.
For those who seek to build this nation, Rizal remains an ideal to be achieved.
