III.

If the Philippines must remain under the control of Spain, they

will necessarily have to be transformed in a political sense, for

the course of their history and the needs of their inhabitants so

require. This we demonstrated in the preceding article.

We also said that this transformation will be violent and fatal if

it proceeds from the ranks of the people, but peaceful and fruitful

if it emanate from the upper classes.

Some governors have realized this truth, and, impelled by their

patriotism, have been trying to introduce needed reforms in order

to forestall events. But notwithstanding all that have been ordered

up to the present time, they have produced scanty results, for the

government as well as for the country. Even those that promised only

a happy issue have at times caused injury, for the simple reason that

they have been based upon unstable grounds.

We said, and once more we repeat, and will ever assert, that reforms

which have a palliative character are not only ineffectual but even

prejudicial, when the government is confronted with evils that must

be cured radically. And were we not convinced of the honesty and

rectitude of some governors, we would be tempted to say that all

the partial reforms are only plasters and salves of a physician who,

not knowing how to cure the cancer, and not daring to root it out,

tries in this way to alleviate the patient's sufferings or to temporize

with the cowardice of the timid and ignorant.

All the reforms of our liberal ministers were, have been, are, and

will be good--when carried out.

When we think of them, we are reminded of the dieting of Sancho

Panza in his Barataria Island. He took his seat at a sumptuous and

well-appointed table "covered with fruit and many varieties of food

differently prepared," but between the wretch's mouth and each dish

the physician Pedro Rezio interposed his wand, saying, "Take it

away!" The dish removed, Sancho was as hungry as ever. True it is

that the despotic Pedro Rezio gave reasons, which seem to have been

written by Cervantes especially for the colonial administrations:

"You must not eat, Mr. Governor, except according to the usage and

custom of other islands where there are governors." Something was

found to be wrong with each dish: one was too hot, another too moist,

and so on, just like our Pedro Rezios on both sides of the sea. Great

good did his cook's skill do Sancho! [4]

In the case of our country, the reforms take the place of the dishes,

the Philippines are Sancho, while the part of the quack physician is

played by many persons, interested in not having the dishes touched,

perhaps that they may themselves get the benefit of them.

The result is that the long-suffering Sancho, or the Philippines,

misses his liberty, rejects all government and ends up by rebelling

against his quack physician.

In like manner, so long as the Philippines have no liberty of the

press, have no voice in the Cortes to make known to the government

and to the nation whether or not their decrees have been duly obeyed,

whether or not these benefit the country, all the able efforts of

the colonial ministers will meet the fate of the dishes in Barataria

island.

The minister, then, who wants his reforms to be reforms, must begin

by declaring the press in the Philippines free and by instituting

Filipino delegates.

The press is free in the Philippines, because their complaints rarely

ever reach the Peninsula, very rarely, and if they do they are so

secret, so mysterious, that no newspaper dares to publish them,

or if it does reproduce them, it does so tardily and badly.

A government that rules a country from a great distance is the one that

has the most need for a free press, more so even than the government

of the home country, if it wishes to rule rightly and fitly. The

government that governs in a country may even dispense with the press

(if it can), because it is on the ground, because it has eyes and ears,

and because it directly observes what it rules and administers. But

the government that governs from afar absolutely requires that the

truth and the facts reach its knowledge by every possible channel,

so that it may weigh and estimate them better, and this need increases

when a country like the Philippines is concerned, where the inhabitants

speak and complain in a language unknown to the authorities. To govern

in any other way may also be called governing, but it is to govern

badly. It amounts to pronouncing judgment after hearing only one of

the parties; it is steering a ship without reckoning its conditions,

the state of the sea, the reefs and shoals, the direction of the winds

and currents. It is managing a house by endeavoring merely to give

it polish and a fine appearance without watching the money-chest,

without looking after the servants and the members of the family.

But routine is a declivity down which many governments slide, and

routine says that freedom of the press is dangerous. Let us see

what History says: uprisings and revolutions have always occurred in

countries tyrannized over, in countries where human thought and the

human heart have been forced to remain silent.

If the great Napoleon had not tyrannized over the press, perhaps it

would have warned him of the peril into which he was hurled and have

made him understand that the people were weary and the earth wanted

peace. Perhaps his genius, instead of being dissipated in foreign

aggrandizement, would have become intensive in laboring to strengthen

his position and thus have assured it. Spain herself records in her

history more revolutions when the press was gagged. What colonies

have become independent while they have had a free press and enjoyed

liberty? Is it preferable to govern blindly or to govern with ample

knowledge?

Some one will answer that in colonies with a free press, the prestige

of the rulers, that prop of false governments, will be greatly

imperiled. We answer that the prestige of the nation is preferable to

that of a few individuals. A nation acquires respect, not by abetting

and concealing abuses, but by rebuking and punishing them. Moreover,

to this prestige is applicable what Napoleon said about great men and

their valets. We, who endure and know all the false pretensions and

petty persecutions of those sham gods, do not need a free press in

order to recognize them; they have long ago lost their prestige. The

free press is needed by the government, the government which still

dreams of the prestige which it builds upon mined ground.

We say the same about the Filipino representatives.

What risks does the government see in them? One of three things:

either that they will prove unruly, become political trimmers, or

act properly.

Supposing that we should yield to the most absurd pessimism and admit

the insult, great for the Philippines, but still greater for Spain,

that all the representatives would be separatists and that in all

their contentions they would advocate separatist ideas: does not a

patriotic Spanish majority exist there, is there not present there

the vigilance of the governing powers to combat and oppose such

intentions? And would not this be better than the discontent that

ferments and expands in the secrecy of the home, in the huts and in

the fields? Certainly the Spanish people does not spare its blood

where patriotism is concerned, but would not a struggle of principles

in parliament be preferable to the exchange of shot in swampy lands,

three thousand leagues from home, in impenetrable forests, under a

burning sun or amid torrential rains? These pacific struggles of ideas,

besides being a thermometer for the government, have the advantage of

being cheap and glorious, because the Spanish parliament especially

abounds in oratorical paladins, invincible in debate. Moreover, it is

said that the Filipinos are indolent and peaceful--then what need the

government fear? Hasn't it any influence in the elections? Frankly,

it is a great compliment to the separatists to fear them in the midst

of the Cortes of the nation.

If they become political trimmers, as is to be expected and as they

probably will be, so much the better for the government and so much

the worse for their constituents. They would be a few more favorable

votes, and the government could laugh openly at the separatists,

if any there be.

If they become what they should be, worthy, honest and faithful to

their trust, they will undoubtedly annoy an ignorant or incapable

minister with their questions, but they will help him to govern and

will be some more honorable figures among the representatives of

the nation.

Now then, if the real objection to the Filipino delegates is that they

smell like Igorots, which so disturbed in open Senate the doughty

General Salamanca, then Don Sinibaldo de Mas, who saw the Igorots

in person and wanted to live with them, can affirm that they will

smell at worst like powder, and Senor Salamanca undoubtedly has no

fear of that odor. And if this were all, the Filipinos, who there in

their own country are accustomed to bathe every day, when they become

representatives may give up such a dirty custom, at least during the

legislative session, so as not to offend the delicate nostrils of

the Salamancas with the odor of the bath.

It is useless to answer certain objections of some fine writers

regarding the rather brown skins and faces with somewhat wide

nostrils. Questions of taste are peculiar to each race. China, for

example, which has four hundred million inhabitants and a very ancient

civilization, considers all Europeans ugly and calls them "fan-kwai,"

or red devils. Its taste has a hundred million more adherents than

the European. Moreover, if this is the question, we would have to

admit the inferiority of the Latins, especially the Spaniards, to

the Saxons, who are much whiter.

And so long as it is not asserted that the Spanish parliament

is an assemblage of Adonises, Antinouses, pretty boys, and other

like paragons; so long as the purpose of resorting thither is to

legislate and not to philosophize or to wander through imaginary

spheres, we maintain that the government ought not to pause at these

objections. Law has no skin, nor reason nostrils.

So we see no serious reason why the Philippines may not have

representatives. By their institution many malcontents would be

silenced, and instead of blaming its troubles upon the government,

as now happens, the country would bear them better, for it could at

least complain and with its sons among its legislators would in a

way become responsible for their actions.

We are not sure that we serve the true interests of our country by

asking for representatives. We know that the lack of enlightenment, the

indolence, the egotism of our fellow countrymen, and the boldness,

the cunning and the powerful methods of those who wish their

obscurantism, may convert reform into a harmful instrument. But

we wish to be loyal to the government and we are pointing out to

it the road that appears best to us so that its efforts may not

come to grief, so that discontent may disappear. If after so just,

as well as necessary, a measure has been introduced, the Filipino

people are so stupid and weak that they are treacherous to their

own interests, then let the responsibility fall upon them, let them

suffer all the consequences. Every country gets the fate it deserves,

and the government can say that it has done its duty.

These are the two fundamental reforms, which, properly interpreted

and applied, will dissipate all clouds, assure affection toward Spain,

and make all succeeding reforms fruitful. These are the reforms sine

quibus non.

It is puerile to fear that independence may come through them. The free

press will keep the government in touch with public opinion, and the

representatives, if they are, as they ought to be, the best from among

the sons of the Philippines, will be their hostages. With no cause

for discontent, how then attempt to stir up the masses of the people?

Likewise inadmissible is the objection offered by some regarding the

imperfect culture of the majority of the inhabitants. Aside from the

fact that it is not so imperfect as is averred, there is no plausible

reason why the ignorant and the defective (whether through their own

or another's fault) should be denied representation to look after

them and see that they are not abused. They are the very ones who

most need it. No one ceases to be a man, no one forfeits his rights

to civilization merely by being more or less uncultured, and since

the Filipino is regarded as a fit citizen when he is asked to pay

taxes or shed his blood to defend the fatherland, why must this

fitness be denied him when the question arises of granting him some

right? Moreover, how is he to be held responsible for his ignorance,

when it is acknowledged by all, friends and enemies, that his zeal for

learning is so great that even before the coming of the Spaniards every

one could read and write, and that we now see the humblest families

make enormous sacrifices in order that their children may become a

little enlightened, even to the extent of working as servants in order

to learn Spanish? How can the country be expected to become enlightened

under present conditions when we see all the decrees issued by the

government in favor of education meet with Pedro Rezios who prevent

execution thereof, because they have in their hands what they call

education? If the Filipino, then, is sufficiently intelligent to pay

taxes, he must also be able to choose and retain the one who looks

after him and his interests, with the product whereof he serves the

government of his nation. To reason otherwise is to reason stupidly.

When the laws and the acts of officials are kept under surveillance,

the word justice may cease to be a colonial jest. The thing that makes

the English most respected in their possessions is their strict and

speedy justice, so that the inhabitants repose entire confidence in

the judges. Justice is the foremost virtue of the civilizing races. It

subdues the barbarous nations, while injustice arouses the weakest.

Offices and trusts should be awarded by competition, publishing the

work and the judgment thereon, so that there may be stimulus and

that discontent may not be bred. Then, if the native does not shake

off his indolence he can not complain when he sees all the offices

filled by Castilas.

We presume that it will not be the Spaniard who fears to enter into

this contest, for thus will he be able to prove his superiority by

the superiority of intelligence. Although this is not the custom in

the sovereign country, it should be practiced in the colonies, for

the reason that genuine prestige should be sought by means of moral

qualities, because the colonizers ought to be, or at least to seem,

upright, honest and intelligent, just as a man simulates virtues

when he deals with strangers. The offices and trusts so earned will

do away with arbitrary dismissal and develop employees and officials

capable and cognizant of their duties. The offices held by natives,

instead of endangering the Spanish domination, will merely serve

to assure it, for what interest would they have in converting the

sure and stable into the uncertain and problematical? The native

is, moreover, very fond of peace and prefers an humble present to

a brilliant future. Let the various Filipinos still holding office

speak in this matter; they are the most unshaken conservatives.

We could add other minor reforms touching commerce, agriculture,

security of the individual and of property, education, and so on,

but these are points with which we shall deal in other articles. For

the present we are satisfied with the outlines, and no one can say

that we ask too much.

There will not be lacking critics to accuse us of Utopianism:

but what is Utopia? Utopia was a country imagined by Thomas Moore,

wherein existed universal suffrage, religious toleration, almost

complete abolition of the death penalty, and so on. When the book was

published these things were looked upon as dreams, impossibilities,

that is, Utopianism. Yet civilization has left the country of Utopia

far behind, the human will and conscience have worked greater miracles,

have abolished slavery and the death penalty for adultery--things

impossible for even Utopia itself!

The French colonies have their representatives. The question has also

been raised in the English parliament of giving representation to

the Crown colonies, for the others already enjoy some autonomy. The

press there also is free. Only Spain, which in the sixteenth century

was the model nation in civilization, lags far behind. Cuba and

Porto Rico, whose inhabitants do not number a third of those of

the Philippines, and who have not made such sacrifices for Spain,

have numerous representatives. The Philippines in the early days

had theirs, who conferred with the King and the Pope on the needs

of the country. They had them in Spain's critical moments, when she

groaned under the Napoleonic yoke, and they did not take advantage of

the sovereign country's misfortune like other colonies, but tightened

more firmly the bonds that united them to the nation, giving proofs of

their loyalty; and they continued until many years later. What crime

have the Islands committed that they are deprived of their rights?

To recapitulate: the Philippines will remain Spanish, if they

enter upon the life of law and civilization, if the rights of their

inhabitants are respected, if the other rights due them are granted,

if the liberal policy of the government is carried out without trickery

or meanness, without subterfuges or false interpretations.

Otherwise, if an attempt is made to see in the Islands a lode to

be exploited, a resource to satisfy ambitions, thus to relieve the

sovereign country of taxes, killing the goose that lays the golden

eggs and shutting its ears to all cries of reason, then, however

great may be the loyalty of the Filipinos, it will be impossible to

hinder the operations of the inexorable laws of history. Colonies

established to subserve the policy and the commerce of the sovereign

country, all eventually become independent, said Bachelet, and before

Bachelet all the Phoenecian, Carthaginian, Greek, Roman, English,

Portuguese and Spanish colonies had said it.

Close indeed are the bonds that unite us to Spain. Two peoples

do not live for three centuries in continual contact, sharing the

same lot, shedding their blood on the same fields, holding the same

beliefs, worshipping the same God, interchanging the same ideas,

but that ties are formed between them stronger than those fashioned

by arms or fear. Mutual sacrifices and benefits have engendered

affection. Machiavelli, the great reader of the human heart, said:

la natura degli huomini, e cosi obligarsi per li beneficii che essi

fanno, come per quelli che essi ricevono (it is human nature to be

bound as much by benefits conferred as by those received). All this,

and more, is true, but it is pure sentimentality, and in the arena

of politics stern necessity and interests prevail. Howsoever much

the Filipinos owe Spain, they can not be required to forego their

redemption, to have their liberal and enlightened sons wander about

in exile from their native land, the rudest aspirations stifled in

its atmosphere, the peaceful inhabitant living in constant alarm,

with the fortune of the two peoples dependent upon the whim of one

man. Spain can not claim, not even in the name of God himself, that

six millions of people should be brutalized, exploited and oppressed,

denied light and the rights inherent to a human being, and then heap

upon them slights and insults. There is no claim of gratitude that

can excuse, there is not enough powder in the world to justify, the

offenses against the liberty of the individual, against the sanctity

of the home, against the laws, against peace and honor, offenses that

are committed there daily. There is no divinity that can proclaim

the sacrifice of our dearest affections, the sacrifice of the family,

the sacrileges and wrongs that are committed by persons who have the

name of God on their lips. No one can require an impossibility of the

Filipino people. The noble Spanish people, so jealous of its rights

and liberties, can not bid the Filipinos renounce theirs. A people

that prides itself on the glories of its past can not ask another,

trained by it, to accept abjection and dishonor its own name!

We who today are struggling by the legal and peaceful means of debate

so understand it, and with our gaze fixed upon our ideals, shall not

cease to plead our cause, without going beyond the pale of the law,

but if violence first silences us or we have the misfortune to fall

(which is possible, for we are mortal), then we do not know what

course will be taken by the numerous tendencies that will rush in to

occupy the places that we leave vacant.

If what we desire is not realized....

In contemplating such an unfortunate eventuality, we must not turn

away in horror, and so instead of closing our eyes we will face what

the future may bring. For this purpose, after throwing the handful

of dust due to Cerberus, let us frankly descend into the abyss and

sound its terrible mysteries.