Rizal and The Quest For True Reality

3.
19
José Rizal, the Quest for Filipino
Independence, and the Search for Ultimate
Reality and Meaning
https://utpjournals.press/doi/pdf/10.3138/uram.34.1-2.113 - Wednesday, July 29, 2020 11:11:04 PM - IP Address:112.198.219.34
Mark DeStephano, S.J., Ph.D., Saint Peter’s University, Jersey City,

N.J. 07306 U.S.A.
INTRODUCTION
José Protasio Rizal Mercado y Alonso Realonda, best known as the “Father of
the Philippines,” was a polymath who came to embody the struggle against Euro-
pean colonialism in Asia, and the visible head of the Philippine nationalist move-
ment at the end of the nineteenth century. Trained as a physician, Rizal was a
gifted linguist who spoke ten languages fluently and was able to converse in
another twelve by the time he was thirty. He was an experimental scientist, an
artist, and a musician, who also became a celebrated epistolary writer, play-
wright, poet, essayist, and novelist in both Spanish and Tagalog. His only two
novels, Noli me tangere (1887) and El filibusterismo (1891), which are Rizal’s
best known works, became essential manuals for members of the Philippine inde-
pendence movement. In them, Rizal portrays and then sharply criticizes the
abuses of the Roman Catholic clergy, especially the enormous wealth of the
Spanish religious orders, their monopoly on ministries, their control of properties,
their abuses of justice, and their mistreatment of the Filipinos in their own land.
Yet the works also offer a vision of reform that heralds a bright future for the
Malay race and the Philippine nation.
EARLY LIFE AND UPBRINGING
Born in Manila on June 19, 1861 to Francisco Mercado Rizal, the owner of a
prosperous sugar plantation and trader, and Teodora Alonso Quintos, a pious,
well-educated, and highly-cultured native of Biñan, little José was raised as a
devout Roman Catholic. As was the Filipino custom of the day, the boy was
first educated in the family home by his mother, who, although loving, was strict
© URAM Volume 34, nos. 1-2, 2011, Published 2015 113

and carefully cultivated her son’s many talents, instilling in him a deep love for
his homeland and a profound sense of dedication to the commonweal. “Pepe,”
as the boy was called, attended Sunday Mass with her, prayed the rosary daily,
and was instructed by her in the basics of the Catholic faith. To prepare the
child for later work, he was tutored at home in arithmetic, reading and writing
Tagalog, Spanish, and Latin by a friend of the family, León Monroy. Upon
Monroy’s death, Pepe’s father sent him, in June, 1870, to a private Latin school
in Biñan run by Justiniano Aquino Cruz, although the boy left shortly thereafter
because he was already too advanced for the curriculum (Santa Maria 40).
In 1871, just before entering secondary school, Rizal witnessed – firsthand – the
terrible injustices of the Spanish system. The wife of Pepe’s uncle, José Alberto
Mercado, had been unfaithful to her husband when he was out of the country.
Upon his return, José Alberto learned of the scandalous affair and prepared to
leave his wife. In an attempt to reconcile the couple, Rizal’s mother, Doña Teo-
dora, brought the two together in the family home, hoping to bring peace and
healing to the lamentable situation. The crafty wife, however, with the collabora-
tion of a lieutenant of the local Spanish constabulary, whom the Rizal family had
refused to give fodder for his horse, falsely accused Rizal’s mother and uncle of
trying to poison her, and Doña Teodora was arrested (1871) and detained for a
period of two years (1873). Forced to have her case defended before the Supreme
Court in Manila, she was exonerated and released in 1873. The Rizal family’s rep-
utation, however, had already been unjustly and irreparably sullied, a fact that
young Pepe was never to forget.
At the age of eleven (1872), Rizal was sent to study at the prestigious Ateneo de
Manila, under the tutelage of Spanish Jesuits. Universally acknowledged as the
finest secondary school in the Philippines, the Ateneo was noted for its outstand-
ing curriculum and strict discipline. The Jesuits imparted a strong humanistic edu-
cation that stressed the importance of the Classical Tradition, and, thus, students
were rigorously trained in Latin, Greek, Spanish, rhetoric, composition, history,
religion, philosophy, and mathematics. The Jesuit curriculum differed from that
of all other secondary schools in the Philippines in that students not only took
the sciences, both natural and physical, but were expected to spend long hours
in the laboratory, focusing on practical application of the theories they were learn-
ing in their lectures. Students also had the opportunity to take optional vocational
classes such as agriculture, commerce, and mechanics. As an all-male institution,
the Ateneo’s curriculum included compulsory physical education classes, as well
as training in fencing, music, drawing, sculpture, and painting (Palma 20–25).
What is more, all students were required to attend daily Mass, recited daily
prayers together, and were encouraged to join sodalities – devotional clubs –
such as the Fraternity of Mary and the Sodality of Saint Luis Gonzaga. Finally,
students were also encouraged to participate in extra-curricular activities such as
writing and performing plays, speech and debate societies, and poetry and rheto-
ric competitions. Rizal excelled at many of these activities and won numerous
scholastic and religious medals (Santa Maria 46).
114 © URAM Volume 34, nos. 1-2, 2011, Published 2015

Known among the Jesuit faculty for his brilliance and vast intellectual curios-
ity, Rizal formed lifelong bonds of affection with various priests, some of whom
had a lasting influence on his character and thought. Four Jesuits enjoyed partic-
ularly close relationships with Rizal throughout his short life: Fr. Francisco Sán-
chez, who was his dear friend, Fr. Pablo Pastells, who sought to return him to the
Roman Catholic Church, Fr. Federico Faura, who warned him that his political
activities would “bring him to the scaffold,” and Fr. Vicente Balaguer, who re-
conciled Rizal to the Church just before his death (De la Costa 97–98).
UNIVERSITY STUDIES AND AWAKENING NATIONALISM
Upon his graduation from the Ateneo de Manila in 1877 with highest honors,
Rizal advanced to the Universidad de Santo Tomás, the oldest tertiary institution
in Asia, which was also in the capital, and which was under the direction of the
Dominican order. Most of Rizal’s biographers report that young José began a
course of study in philosophy. Yet, in 1984, Dominican scholar Fidel Villarroel
argued that Rizal began a career in law, not philosophy, as the university’s Fac-
ulty of Philosophy and Letters was not opened until 1896 (Parco de Castro 2011).
In any event, he abandoned his pursuit of a humanities degree in order to study
medicine when his mother’s eyesight became so poor that she could barely recog-
nize him (Santa Maria 46). Pepe’s university years were filled with the usual joys
and pains of youth: dedication to studies, numerous activities, bittersweet forays
into love, and accepting “desengaño” (“disillusionment’) – the slippage between
what life should be, but often, because of human limitation and selfishness, is not.
Human imperfections became especially evident to young Pepe in the lecture
halls and offices of his Dominican professors at Santo Tomás. Rizal’s experience
with the Jesuits had been very positive: although strict and proud of their “Spa-
nishness,” they had encouraged intellectual inquiry, creativeness, and focused
self-expression. The Jesuits seemed endlessly patient, understanding, and tolerant
of the extravagances of youth. Unfortunately, Pepe found his Dominican profes-
sors to be just the opposite: domineering, smug, and, especially, condescending to
their “Indian” charges, who they believed to be intellectually inferior. Rizal felt
that he was a captive in his own country. The young man believed that, at
Santo Tomás, merit was not rewarded. Students were routinely insulted and de-
based in front of their peers, yet no one dared object, for fear not only of being
expelled, but also of being charged with the gravest of all crimes, sedition (Palma
39). Pepe quickly became repulsed by the Dominican system of education, and
experienced a rising sense of frustration and anger, as well as a growing disap-
pointment with the Roman Catholic faith that was often used to justify the
monks’ abuses.
As a university student, the cruelty of the Spanish oppression once again
touched young Rizal’s life directly, precisely at the moment when his conscience
was most sharply piqued by the injustices of his Dominican professors. Along

with an almost daily degradation suffered at the hands of Spanish overseers, two
episodes in particular wounded him to the core. The first occurred while Rizal
was taking a leisurely walk and failed to salute a passing lieutenant of the con-
stabulary, after which the officer knocked him down and wounded him (Palma
37). Believing himself to have been unjustly assaulted, Pepe went to the palace
of the Governor General to demand satisfaction. As often happened with “na-
tives,” the young man was refused an audience, which led him to despair even
further of ever enjoying true justice in his own homeland. Rizal became desperate
with the thought that in his own country he might never be truly free, a concept
echoed in the narrative voice of El filibusterismo in describing the young idealist
Isagani’s quest for liberation: “He would give a thousand cities, a thousand pa-
laces, for that corner of the Philippines where, far from humankind, he could
really feel free. There, face to face with Nature, before the mysteries of the infi-
nite, in the forest and by the sea, he could think, speak, and act like a man
who has no master” (Rizal 198).
The second incident occurred at approximately the same time. Over the centu-
ries, religious orders, especially the Dominicans and the Franciscans, came into
possession of vast tracts of land, which they usually leased for local agriculture.
Rizal’s father became the victim of the lay manager of one of the Dominicans’
estates in Calamba, which he had rented for farming. The overseer of the
lands, feeling slighted in a tiff, capriciously changed the terms of the Rizals’ leas-
ing agreement, and eventually doubled their rent (Palma 37). Unfortunately,
given the absolute power of the religious orders – even in the administration of
lands and in legal decisions – Rizal’s father had no alternative except to allow
himself to be gouged. The impressionable Pepe became even more incensed at
the corruption and discrimination of the Spanish colonial system.
In 1879, Pepe wrote one of his most heartfelt poems, “A la juventud filipina”
[“To the Philippine Youth”], in which he expresses love for the Philippines and
the hope that the young will strive for a better future:
Hold high your faultless brow, All ye who hold the power to free
Filipino youth, on this day grand! Those sorely grieved, by your charm’d
word,
Shine forth resplendent now, And fix in their fond memory,
In gallant glory stand, That by your genius is stirred,
Handsome hope of my motherland! The immortal thought that ye have heard.
(qtd. in Palma 34)
In his frustration, Pepe now turned to the good agencies of his fellow Filipino
youth. The bitterness of his personal experiences of oppression – both that perpe-
trated against his family and that of the Dominican professors in the lecture halls
of the Universidad de Santo Tomás – led him to become one of the founders of a
secret student association called “Compañerismo,” which was dedicated to patriotic

pursuits such as discussions of civic life and mutual aid among its members. Rizal
authored the organization’s by-laws and also served as its first leader, and his par-
ticipation in the organization marked his decision to indulge his sense of national-
ism and share his thoughts and feelings with other young Filipinos (Palma 38).
STUDIES IN MADRID
Displeased as Rizal was with the intellectual environment at the Universidad de

Santo Tomás, Rizal’s brother Paciano arranged for him to continue his medical
studies in Spain. With Paciano’s encouragement and financial support, Rizal se-
cretly departed from Manila on the steamship Salvadora on the morning of May
3, 1882, hoping not to upset his parents but knowing that he had to leave the
repression in the Philippines. Along the extensive route he stopped in numerous
exotic places, including Singapore, Point de Galle (Sri Lanka), Colombo (Sri
Lanka), Cape Guardafui (Somalia), Aden (Yemen), Port Said (Egypt), Naples,
and Marseille, completing his journey in Barcelona. The trip was immensely free-
ing for the young and impressionable Rizal; he saw peoples of many different
races, heard numerous languages, saw beautiful and strange landscapes, and
had time to recover the inner peace and optimism he had lost over the last several
years. During his three-month sojourn in Barcelona, Pepe wrote to his family and
composed an article entitled “El amor patrio” [“Love of Country”], which was
published in the prestigious Manila newspaper Diariong Tagalog under the
pseudonym Laong Laan (“Ever Ready”).
Later in 1882, Rizal enrolled at the Universidad Central de Madrid, where he
would continue his medical studies and also pursue studies in the Faculty of Phi-
losophy and Letters. As was expected of any young man of good breeding, José
attended concerts, theatrical performances, parties, and discussion groups (tertu-
lias) with some of the most respected members of Spanish society. What is more,
he was soon introduced to a very active group of fellow Filipino students, who,
along with many Spaniards concerned with the situation in the Philippines,
formed the “Spanish-Filipino Circle.” While the original goal of the group was
to offer an environment of refined social interaction, several of the young men,
including Rizal, hoped that it would also publicize the Spanish abuses in the
Far-Eastern colony and attempt to gain the attention and help of members of
the liberal faction of the government who might be sympathetic to the suffering
of the Filipino people (Palma 51).
Unfortunately, the “Circle” disbanded within a few months because of a lack
of funds and because of the general malaise that plagued many of the young Fil-
ipino students. True to the criticisms of the Spanish colonizers, the youths slept
late, did not attend class, frittered away their afternoons playing cards, and pre-
ferred to dedicate themselves to drinking and carousing with women (Palma 51).
Rizal soon became disillusioned with these frivolous practices, and expressed his
displeasure in a series of articles he wrote for the Diariong Tagalog. Convinced

that the European principles of free thought, such as those espoused by the Lib-
eral Spanish Party, were the only way to break the stranglehold of the Roman
Catholic Church and the corruption of Spanish colonial officials in the Philip-
pines, Rizal joined the Acacia Masonic Lodge in Madrid in 1883, taking the fra-
ternal name of Dimasalang (“No Higher Acclaim”)(Santa Maria 75).
Rizal was awarded a licentiate in medicine from the Universidad Central in
1884, and a second licentiate and a doctorate in philosophy from the same insti-
tution in 1885 (Santa Maria 76). According to biographer Rafael Palma, Rizal
also finished a doctoral degree in medicine in 1885; however, it was never awarded
because the young man was unable to pay his graduation fees (Palma 58).
FRIENDSHIP WITH BLUMENTRITT, FURTHER STUDIES IN GERMANY,

AND RIZAL’S FIRST NOVEL
Following his graduation from the Universidad Central de Madrid in 1885, Rizal
decided in October to go to Germany to pursue studies in law, which had been
suggested to him by some of his friends in Manila. The young man stopped
along the way in Barcelona and Paris, where he engaged in studies in English,
French, and German, and assisted in an ophthalmological office. Even more sig-
nificant is that, in the same year, Rizal began to write his first novel. By February,
1886, Pepe had arrived in Heidelberg, where he probably matriculated in the
famed university’s Faculty of Law (Palma 64). In July, 1886, Rizal first wrote
to an Austrian intellectual and specialist in Asian Studies, Dr. Ferdinand Blu-
mentritt, who was to be a lifelong intellectual companion, supporter, and friend
(Ocampo, A Calendar, 40). Yet, almost immediately after his registration at the
university, Rizal dropped out, more than likely to finish the writing of his novel.
By August, he was already traveling, first to Leipzig and then reaching Berlin in
mid-October. Rizal’s novel, which he completed in Berlin, was to become one of
the greatest works in the history of Philippine literature and thought – Noli me
tangere –, which was completed on February 21, 1887. Throughout his years
of study, Rizal had always been deeply involved in the Filipino reform move-
ment, and was looked to, increasingly, as the intellect, the inspiration, and the
energy behind the cause. Noli me tangere, a searing denunciation of the corrup-
tion of Filipino life under Spanish domination, especially as it was perpetrated by
Spanish members of Roman Catholic religious orders, instantly became a foun-
dational work for the movement (Ocampo, Rizal without the Overcoat 49).
Returning to his home town, Calamba, in 1888, Pepe opened an ophthalmo-
logical practice in which he performed cataract surgery on his mother and re-
stored her sight. Unfortunately, Noli me tangere had caused such a firestorm of
controversy that Rizal received many threats, both from government officials
and from those who supported the Spanish colonial system, and, in fewer than
six months, he was forced to leave his homeland. It should be noted that shortly

after his departure, Spanish officials moved against his family, confiscating their
land and deporting one of Rizal’s brothers-in-law, Manuel Hidalgo (Palma 109).
Traveling first to Hong Kong, then to Japan and the United States, Rizal had
decided to make London his ultimate destination, as he wished to conduct
research in the British Museum. He would remain in London from late 1888
to May of 1889, pondering one simple question: Why were Filipinos being treated
as intellectual inferiors by their Spanish overlords? Was there any historical jus-
tification for this judgment? Rizal chose to answer these questions once and for all
by writing a critical edition of Antonio de Morga’s seventeenth-century history,
Sucesos de las Islas Filipinas (1609) (Events of the Philippine Islands, 1609), which
chronicled the great achievements attained by the Filipino people long before the
arrival of the Spanish conqueror. One year later, while residing in Paris, Rizal
saw the publication of the work, and also began to write prolifically for a new
Spanish newspaper – La Solidaridad –, which was dedicated to presenting the Fil-
ipino cause to Spanish legislators. Founded by Rizal’s cousin, Galicano Apacible,
the paper was published out of Barcelona between 1889 and 1895, and became
one of Rizal’s main organs of expression.
In early 1890, Rizal returned briefly to Madrid, where he expanded his con-
tacts with Spanish liberals, many of them Freemasons (Ocampo, Rizal without
the Overcoat 93). The year was to be spent shuttling back and forth between
the great cities of Europe: London, Paris, Madrid again, and, eventually, Brussels
and Ghent. Writing voluminously, Rizal corresponded with intellectuals, did
research, wrote articles and essays, and worked with publishers to bring his writ-
ings to press. Throughout the month of February, his celebrated essay Filipinas
dentro de cien años (The Philippines a Century Hence) was printed in serial
form in La Solidaridad, offering both Spaniards and Filipinos valuable material
on which to reflect regarding the future development of Spain’s easternmost col-
ony. In August, he published yet another of his most significant essays, Sobre la
indolencia de los filipinos (Concerning the Indolence of the Filipinos), which was a
powerful response to Spanish assertions that Filipinos were lazy, and, as such,
incapable of self-governance.
THE STRUGGLE INTENSIFIES
In September of the following year – 1891 – a sequel to Rizal’s Noli me tangere,

El filibusterismo, was published in Ghent. Yet another trenchant condemnation
of Spanish abuses in the Philippines, the novel drew intense criticism because
of its plot, which involves the mounting of a Filipino revolt. In a personal letter
to his friend Blumentritt, Rizal clarified his intentions in writing the work: “I have
not written in El filibusterismo my idea of revenge against my enemies but only
what is for the good of those who are suffering” (Guerrero 272). He also specifies
that the fictional revolt fails because the protagonist’s cause is based on personal

anger and vindictiveness, and not on the common will or popular good (Santa
Maria 142).
Late December, 1891, brought the hope of change, with the arrival of a new
and seemingly more enlightened Governor General, Eulogio Despujol. Upon De-
spujol’s announcement of sweeping reforms, Rizal was quick to write and
congratulate him: “Your Excellency is in a deeply demoralized country which
is on the eve of falling into a crisis. I consider your action the act of a
prudent administrator and a man of good will” (Santa Maria 148). Rizal uncon-
ditionally put his services at the disposition of the new ruler, and, while he waited
for a response, began the work of founding a colony in North Borneo for exiled
friends and members of his family. In the meantime, the entire family met in
Hong Kong for Christmas, 1891, the first time they had all been together since
1887.
Ignoring the advice and warnings of friends and family, Rizal returned to the
Philippines in 1892, in the hope of clarifying his intentions before the new Gov-
ernor General. On June 21, 1892, he wrote to Despujol, explaining the reasons for
his return to the homeland and announcing that he would be arriving on the next
mail boat: “I present myself to gather upon me so much persecution, to answer
the charges that they want to bring against me, to end this question, bitter to
the innocent and unfortunate for the government of Your Excellency, which is
interested in being known for its justness” (Santa Maria 154). Rizal arrived in
Manila on June 26, 1892. On July 3 he was brought to speak with a group of
ardent patriots, and, at the young doctor’s urging, the “Liga Filipina,” a non-
violent reform organization, was declared established. But Rizal was not to con-
tinue working with this group. He was arrested on July 7, and, without trial, was
ordered to be deported, under the Governor General’s discretionary powers, for
the offense of having published books, articles, and pamphlets that were opposed
to the Roman Catholic Church and the Spanish government (Palma 219). As a
reaction, the Liga Filipina was disbanded that same night, and one of the former
members, an admirer of Rizal’s named Andrés Bonifacio, gathered others
together to create the Katipunan, a secret group dedicated to the overthrow of
Spanish authority. On July 15, Rizal left for a small town in northwest Minda-
nao, Dapitan, where he would spend the next four years in exile. Although re-
moved from the center of public attention, the young reformer continued to
work in Dapitan for the good of the Philippine people by conducting scientific
research and founding a hospital and a school.
Rizal’s arrest and enforced exile were a great source of embarrassment for the
Spanish government, which had hoped that by taking him out of the public eye
and limiting his ability to speak with others, Rizal’s fame would disappear. Dur-
ing this time of personal tribulation, José, who was very much a man of action,
dedicated himself to the service of the poor populace as both a teacher and a phy-
sician. Yet even in this, the reformer experienced the painful reality of the in-
equalities in Filipino society:

I am on good terms with everyone. I live peacefully, but the town is very poor, very
poor. Life in it is not unpleasant to me because it is isolated and lonesome; but I am
very sorry to see so many distorted things and not be able to remedy them, for there
is no money or means to buy instruments and medicines. (Santa Maria 180)
So great was Rizal’s skill as an ophthalmologist, and so widespread his renown,

that patients from all over the world came to him for advice and treatment. At
Blumentritt’s insistence, he pursued his studies of the natural world and contin-
ued his inquiry into the origins of local languages and their similarities and dif-
ferences. Still, these activities were not enough. On various occasions, Rizal
wrote to the Governor General requesting a pardon, asking to be sent to
found a colony in Sindagan, where he might gather his whole family, and, finally,
petitioning to be allowed to join the Spanish army in Cuba as a military physician
(Palma 256–258). It is highly significant to note that Rizal had many opportu-
nities and offers to escape, all of which he rejected, because he had promised
the Spanish authorities that he would remain their captive (Santa Maria 165).
Sadly, the year 1896 was to spell disaster for Rizal, as the Katipunan launched
an insurrection against the Spanish government. Although he was in no way in-
volved with the organization, Rizal was blamed for having inspired its activities,
and was arrested and charged with sedition by a military tribunal. He was soon
given a military trial and was found guilty of all charges. On December 30, 1896,
José Rizal was shot to death by a Spanish firing squad at the age of thirty-five.
CLERICAL ABUSES
Although not doctrinaire works that bear a condemnatory tone, Rizal’s writings,
especially his two novels, present a panoply of the abuses committed by some
Roman-Catholic clergy – especially the Spaniards – against their Filipino flocks.
While none of these abuses may be said to be endemic to the Philippines, Rizal
makes it clear that Filipino society had become fertile ground for a vast array
of corruption in virtually every area of life. He posits that it is the colonial system
itself that engenders laziness: “We should confess that there (in the Filipino
homeland), laziness truly and positively exists, only that, instead of considering
it as the cause of backwardness and disorder, we consider it as the effect of the
confusion and backwardness that favor the development of a lamentable predis-
position” (Rizal, Sobre 111). And although many of society’s evils could be attrib-
uted to the excesses of the Spanish colonizer, Filipinos themselves had also freely
and generously contributed to the degradation of their own nation. In Rizal’s
mind, this complicity by the Filipino people themselves could be traced to their
willingness to forsake the common good for their own selfish advancement by jus-
tifying the Spanish colonizer’s denigration. For example, the simplest manner to
betray one’s own people was by living and judging others purely on the basis of
external appearance. As Rizal describes it, “Men are like turtles; they are

classified and valued according to their shells,” which allowed the Spaniards to
make outlandish generalizations about the entire Malay race (Noli 2).
One of the most unsavory characters to be born of Rizal’s literary imagination
is a Spanish Franciscan, Fr. Dámaso, who baldly declares to the young and ide-
alistic protagonist of Noli me tangere, Juan Crisóstomo Ibarra, that, “The native
is so lazy!” (7). Ibarra, a Filipino who has just returned from studies in Europe,
questions the validity of the statement: “Are natives really born lazy? Or was that
foreign traveller right who said that we Spaniards use this charge of laziness to
excuse our own, as well as to explain the lack of progress and policy in our co-
lonies? He was, of course, speaking of other colonies of ours, but I think the in-
habitants there belong to the same race as these people (7). Interestingly, a
Spaniard who has been in the Philippines for many years, Mr. Laruja, affirms
the priest’s observation: “There is nobody lazier anywhere in the world than
the native of these parts” (7).
In this same conversation, Ibarra indicates another serious difficulty in the way
that the Spanish clergy deal with the “natives,” namely, the false paternalism that
masks the Spaniards’ deep sense of superiority and entitlement: “Gentlemen, do
not wonder at the familiarity with which I am treated by our former parish priest.
That was the way he dealt with me when I was a child, and the years have not
changed His Reverence” (Noli 19). Rizal clarifies the source of this evil, for it
is not just that Ibarra is a native Filipino; he, like all good “secularists,” fails
to acknowledge the clergy’s claim to divine authority, including that of free
speech. Fr. Dámaso indignantly huffs: “Did you see that? . . . All out of pride!
He couldn’t stand being reproved by a priest. He thinks he’s somebody. Of
course, that’s what comes from sending these youngsters to Europe. The Govern-
ment should put its foot down and stop it!” (Noli 19–20). Here, Rizal echoes the
common complaint of Spanish clerics and government officials that, once tainted
by European free thinkers, Freemasons, Protestants, and atheists, young Filipi-
nos who return to their homeland become the source of intellectual dissension
and political rebellion. For the Spanish overlord, it was best that the “natives”
not be educated in any system other than their own, which reinforced docility,
unquestioning obedience, recognition of the Filipinos’ inferiority, and fear of a
Church and of a God that condemned those who challenged that system in
any way.
Having had so many personal experiences of the abuses perpetrated by the
clergy as landowners, Rizal was especially outraged by the religious orders’
almost complete control of Filipino land. In a clear reference to the ills that
had befallen his own father, Rizal tells the story of Cabesang Tales, a farmer
who becomes a victim of the friars’ greed and raw power:
They had cleared a thickly forested tract on the edge of the town which they thought
belonged to no one. The entire family, one after the other, had gone down with fever
when they were breaking up and draining the ground; the wife of Tales and his elder
daughter, Lucía, in the prime of youth, wasted away and died . . . Then, on the eve of

their first harvest, a religious Order which owned lands in the neighboring town had
claimed ownership of the newly cleared fields, alleging that they were within the limits
of its property, and to establish its claim immediately attempted to put up boundary
markers. The administrator of the religious Order’s estate, however, let it be under-
stood that out of pity he would allow Tales the enjoyment of the land for an annual
rental, a mere trifle, a matter of twenty or thirty pesos. (Filibusterismo 24–25)
As the story progresses, the friar-administrator continues to raise the rent every
year until it reaches two hundred pesos. When Tales objects, he is merely met
with the harsh response that, “if Tales could not pay, then another could have
the use of the lands; there were many eager applicants” (Filibusterismo 26).
When Tales appeals the case to the civil authorities, they do not dare to rule in
his favor and against the friars, as some judges who had been impartial had
just lost their positions (Filibusterismo 28).
CRISIS OF FAITH
The many abuses of the Spanish and Filipino clergy led Rizal to question his
Roman Catholic faith sharply. As we have seen, during his years of study with
the Jesuits at the Ateneo de Manila, Pepe was deeply religious, attended daily
Mass, prayed the rosary, and participated in sodalities at the school, even to
the point of receiving many awards for his religious involvement. The crisis of
his conflict with his Dominican professors, which was greatly exacerbated by
the memory of his family’s mistreatment at the hands of the Dominican land-
owners, further alienated the youth. The intransigence of Spanish colonial autho-
rities towards reform pushed the wounded young Rizal further into the arms of
the European “liberals” he had met on his travels, who were all very sympathetic
to the Filipinos’ bitter plight. It is not surprising, then, to find Rizal questioning
some of the basic tenets of the faith that he had so lovingly received from his fam-
ily, but which was used by so many others to justify wrongdoings.
Many of these doubts are very clearly expressed in the dialogue of Rizal’s two
novels.
For example, in a particularly poignant chapter of Noli me tangere, a certain
Lieutenant Guevara tells Ibarra about the unquestioned uprightness of the lat-
ter’s father, whose body had been dug up and whose bones had been scattered
at the order of Fr. Dámaso. Ibarra’s father’s beliefs echo Rizal’s doubts and criti-
cisms of Catholic doctrine:
Mr. Guevara, do you believe that God forgives a crime, say, a murder, merely upon
Confession to a priest, a man who, after all, is bound to secrecy? And what do you
say to a confession made in fear of hell, which is an act of mere attrition rather than
contrition? Does one win forgiveness by being a coward and shamelessly playing it
safe? I have a different idea of God. For myself I think that one wrong does not right
another, and forgiveness cannot be won with useless tears or alms to the Church. I

put it to you: if I had murdered the father of a family, if I have widowed some
unhappy woman and turned happy children into destitute orphans, would I have sa-
tisfied divine justice by allowing myself to be hanged, or perhaps by confiding my
secret to one sworn never to reveal it, by giving alms to priests who needed it
least, by making a cash settlement of any penances imposed, or even by weeping
night and day? What good would this have done the widow and the orphans? My
conscience tells me that I should have taken in every possible way the place of
my victim, dedicating myself, for the whole of my life, to the good of that family
for whose misfortunes I was responsible, and even then, even then, who could
make amends for the loss of a loving husband and father?” (22–23).
The criticisms leveled against the Church in this self-justification of the “truly
upright man” were in no way unique. What is of interest, however, is the fact
that many of the issues that are raised correspond to many of the fundamental
doctrines of the Freemasons, such as their denial of the efficaciousness of the sac-
rament of reconciliation (confession), their rejection of the Catholic principle of
occult restitution, and their denial of penance as a recognition of God’s forgive-
ness. It is also clear that Rizal’s knowledge of theology, while impressive, is also
somewhat flawed in that he views penance merely as a form of satisfaction.
Clearly, Rizal had a highly-developed sense of ethics and personal responsibility –
perhaps so lofty as to be unattainable. And yet, as we see with his refusal to
escape from Dapitan to save his own life, Rizal was uncompromising in the ful-
fillment of what he believed to be his ethical responsibilities.
NATIONAL PRIDE
Ever since he was a child, Rizal had been a devoted son of the Philippines. In
time, as he grew old enough to understand not only the beauty of the nation,
but also the tragedy of its political oppression, he expressed with increasing
force and clarity his aspirations for a Filipino homeland that would be truly
free. On the one hand, he loved the Spain of Cervantes, the Monarchy, and
the glorious Catholic faith that had repulsed the Muslim invader. On the
other, he felt trapped by the inexorable forces of fate that seemed to control
the destiny of his people. In El filibusterismo, the protagonist, Isagani, makes a
stark observation:
The strange fate of some peoples! Because a passing traveller came to their shores,
they lost their freedom and became the subjects and slaves not only of the traveller
or of his heirs but even of his countrymen, and not for one generation alone but for
ever more! What a strange idea of justice! A situation like that one gave one more
than enough right to slaughter every foreigner like the most ferocious monster
spewed up by the sea. (195)
As we have seen, Rizal did not espouse armed revolt; however, these words of his
novel demonstrate that he was understanding of those who might have such

leanings. Still, his way was not that of the gun but rather that of the pen, the
book, and the mind. The young intellectual frequently wrote of the need for edu-
cation, and often represented what he believed to be the dire consequences of
ignorance. For Rizal, national pride was a question of awakening in the Filipino
people a sense of collective ownership of their illustrious past, while at the same
time engendering in them a profound dedication to national stewardship.
RIZAL’S VISION OF REFORM
Foremost in Rizal’s mind was the need for government to be respectful of its ci-
tizens, and to be truly concerned with the commonweal. In the first of his articles
to be published in La Solidaridad, “Filipino Farmers,” which appeared on March
15, 1889, the young intellectual described what he believed to be a government
that was unworthy of the trust of its people, and clearly outlined the consequences
of such a form of rule:
This system of interference, of unfounded fears, of unjust suspicions not only irri-
tates and arouses people but also reveals to them the weakness of the government;
for these fears are but a manifestation of its weakness . . . This conduct of the gov-
ernment injures the real interests of Spain, and by thus causing discontent, the gov-
ernment appears to be the first filibuster. And since we believe that a country cannot
be served better than by telling her the truth, we are telling it to the mother country
so that she may apply the necessary remedy. (qtd. in Palma 123)
This highly significant passage reveals the fact that, even after countless sufferings
at the hands of the Spanish authorities, Rizal did not openly advocate an over-
throw of the colonial system. On the contrary, he had a deep and abiding love
for Spain, its language, its Catholic faith, and its culture. Nonetheless, a thor-
oughgoing program of reform was necessary, if, as Rizal observed, Filipinos
were to remain loyal to the Spanish crown.
While being detained at Dapitan, Rizal lived with the Spanish regional admin-
istrator, Don Ricardo Carnicero, who quickly became a friend who trusted the
young intellectual intrinsically. In one of their conversations, Rizal outlined a
seven-point program of reform, if the Philippine colony were to flourish: (1)
give Filipinos representation in the Spanish Cortes (parliament); (2) secularize
the friars, doing away with the tutorship which the latter exercised over the gov-
ernment and the country, and distributing the curacies as they became vacant
among other clergymen, who could be either Filipinos or Spaniards; (3) improve
and reform the governing Administration in all its branches; (4) foster primary
instruction, taking away all intervention of the friars and giving the teachers
more pay; (5) divide, equally, the appointments in the country between Filipinos
and Spaniards; (6) create schools of arts and trades in the capitals of the provinces
of more than 16,000 inhabitants; and, (7) permit freedom of religion and of the

press (Palma 226–227). It must be observed, once again, that Rizal did not advo-
cate immediate separation from Spain, but insisted that the mother country
should truly care for its colony and foster its development. This could only hap-
pen through the observance of a strong code of human rights, and the necessary
dissolution of the clerical class, which acted as if it were above the law.
EPILOGUE: RIZAL AND URAM
Throughout his life, Rizal dedicated many pages of writings to his celebration of
his family, his explorations of the true nature of belief, his fascination with the
natural world, his interest in cultures and languages, and his search for justice.
It is undeniable, however, that the overwhelming preponderance of his thought
and actions centered on his homeland. There can be no doubt that ultimate real-
ity and meaning for José Rizal was nothing other than his beloved Philippines.
From his poetry, to his novels, his essays, articles, speeches, and correspondence,
Rizal lived and breathed a total love of the Philippines. His life, although brief,
was filled with activities dedicated to the betterment of the nation. The young
intellectual denounced injustice, identified the perpetrators of corruption, criti-
cized the selfish, and tirelessly encouraged all of his fellow citizens, both Spanish
and Filipino, to commit themselves to the common good. At the same time, Rizal
worked indefatigably to provide the Filipino people with concrete evidence
of their value as a national population. His studies of the languages of the Phil-
ippine archipelago, its history, its culture, and its social structure, composed the
overwhelming majority of Rizal’s writings. His novels, plays, and most of his
poetry are all directed towards addressing the nation’s problems and offering so-
lutions.
Perhaps the clearest formulation of Rizal’s concept of ultimate reality and
meaning is to be found in the words of his final literary work, “Mi último
adiós” (“My Final Farewell”), a poem that he composed on the eve of his execu-
tion by a Spanish firing squad on December 30, 1896. In the first strophe, Rizal
states that he now gives his life for the Philippines, his ultimate reality and good:
Fare thee well, motherland I adore, region the sun holds dear
Pearl of the sea oriental, our paradise come to grief;
I go with gladness to give thee my life all withered and drear;
Though it were more brilliant, more fresh with flowery cheer,
Even then for thee would I give it, would give it for thy relief.
(qtd. in Bueno 164)
Rizal’s sacrifice of his very being here shines as the culmination of a lifetime of
crusading against those abuses that have wounded the peoples of the Philippines.
As we have seen, the patriot’s energies were expended on salvaging the honor and

history of those peoples, especially in the face of colonial overlords who sought to
deny his fellow Filipinos their very identity:
My dreams, while yet merely a child, or when nearing maturity,

My dreams, when a youth full of vigor at length I became,
Were to see Thee one happier day, O jewel of the orient sea,
Thine ebon eyes dried of their tears, thine uplifted brow clear and
free,
From the frowns and furrows, the stains and stigma of
shame. (qtd. in Bueno 164)
Indeed, this is exactly what Rizal had pointed to as an outgrowth of his writing
Noli me tangere, and his purpose in writing a critical edition of Spanish historian
Antonio de Morga’s Sucesos de la islas filipinas(1609). Rizal’s dedication of his
critical edition, “To the Filipinos,” clarifies exactly how Rizal had hoped to free
his homeland from these “stains and stigma of shame”:
If the book manages to awaken in you the consciousness of our past, which had been
erased from memory, and to correct that which has been falsified and defamed, then
I shall not have worked in vain, and with this base, no matter how small it may be,
we will all be able to dedicate ourselves to studying the future.
(my translation, Morga vi)
Understanding the past would lead to reform, which in turn would lead to intel-
lectual and then political freedom.
In the climax of “Mi último adiós,” Rizal defines, in the clearest of terms, and
through the power of poetry, the deepest meaning of his life – his ultimate reality
and meaning:
O dream that inspired my life, my ardent enduring desire,

God bless thee!, this fervent soul cries, that soon is departing
from thee;
God bless thee! How lovely it is to fail and to lift thee higher;
To die and to give thee my life; here under the sky expire,
And in thine enchanted terrain to sleep for eternity. (qtd. in Bueno 164)
Rizal offers his emotional “last will and testament” in the penultimate strophe of
the poem, which concretizes the patriot’s utter dedication to God and to the Phil-
ippines, which, to Rizal, is almost a goddess:
My idolized motherland, whose grieving makes me grieve,

Dearest Filipinas, hear my last farewell again!
I now leave all to thee, my parents, my loved ones I leave.
I go where there are no slaves, no brute’s lash to receive;
Where faith does not kill and where it is God who doth reign. (qtd. in Bueno 166)

“Mi último adiós,” like all of Rizal’s poetry, is not just a mere entertainment or
flight of literary fancy. As José M. Hernández has observed, “. . . patriotism is the
warp and woof of Rizal’s poetry,” and careful analysis of Rizal’s poetic corpus
clearly demonstrates that his literary and affective attentions are always focused
on his beloved Philippines (8).
In “El amor patrio” (“Love of the Homeland”), the first essay he wrote from a
foreign country, Rizal reminds his readers that no matter how simple or how
well-educated a person is, everyone has “. . . a beautiful idol, brilliant, sublime,
but implacable, fierce and demanding, which they have called ‘the HOME-
LAND’ ” [“. . . un ídolo hermoso, brillante, sublime, pero implacable, fiero y ex-
igente, que han llamado ‘PATRIA’”](14). A compilation of sweet memories of
childhood and family, pride of race, the testimony of historical events, recollec-
tion of self-sacrificial forebears, and a collection of aspirations for the future,
for Rizal, national pride is the source of human excellence: “It has always been
said that love has been the most powerful cause of the most sublime actions;
very well, among all loves, love of the homeland is that which has produced
the greatest, the most heroic, and the most unselfish of them” [“Se ha dicho
siempre que el amor ha sido el móvil más poderoso de las acciones más sublimes;
pues bien, entre todos los amores, el de la patria es el que ha producido las más
grandes, más heroicas y más desinteresadas”](17–18). As his relatives found in
another letter that he had written in Hong Kong in 1892, and which, at his
own instruction was not opened until after his death, Rizal offered his entire
life as a sacrifice for the Philippines:
I have always loved my poor homeland and I am sure that I will love it to the last
moment, if, perchance, human beings are unjust to me; and I will exhale my life hap-
pily, content in knowing that everything that I have suffered, my past, my present
and my future, my life, my loves, my joys, everything have I sacrificed for her. What-
ever my fate should be, I will die blessing her and wishing for her the dawn of her
redemption. (my translation, Testamento 150)
[He amado siempre a mi pobre tierra y estoy seguro de que la amaré hasta el último
momento, si acaso los hombres me son injustos; y exhalaré la vida feliz, contento de
pensar que todo lo que he sufrido, mi pasado, mi presente y mi porvenir, mi vida,
mis amores, mis alegrías, todo lo que he sacrificado por amor a ella. Sea cualquiera
mi suerte, moriré bendiciéndola y deseándola la aurora de su redención.]
For Rizal, love of his Philippine homeland and dedication to its betterment were
the unquestioned ultimate reality and meaning of his life, which he stated in the
clearest, yet most elegant of words in yet another of his celebrated letters: “If one
must die, at least let him die in his country, for the good of his country, and on
behalf of his country” [“Si uno ha de morir, que muera al menos en su patria, por
su patria y para su patria”](qtd. in Fortú 105). It is no surprise, then, that Rizal is
known to this day as the “Father of the Philippine Homeland,” and, to members
of the Filipino Independent Church, as “Saint José Rizal.”

WORKS CITED
Bueno, Christopher F. José P. Rizal: The National Hero. Lexington, KY: n/p, 2014.
Print.
De la Costa, Horacio. Selected Homilies and Religious Reflections. Ed. R.M. Paterno.
Manila: Kadena Press Foundation-Asia Inc., 2002. Print.
Fortú, H., ed. Rizal. Manila: Comisión Nacional del Centenario de José Rizal, 1961.
Print.
Guerrero, León María. 1963. The First Filipino: A Biography of José Rizal. Quezon
City, PH: Vertex Press, Inc., 1971. Print.
Hernández, José M. “Rizal’s Poetry and Drama.” Unesco National Commission
7-24. Print.
Morga, Antonio de. 1890. Sucesos de las Islas Filipinas (1609). Ed. José Rizal.
Manila: Instituto Histórico Nacional, 1991. Print.
Ocampo, Ambeth R. 1990. Rizal Without the Overcoat. Pasig City, Philippines: Anvil
Publishing, Inc., 2008. Print.
—. 1993. A Calendar of Rizaliana in the Vault of the Philippine National Library.
Manila: Anvil Publishing, Inc., 1995. Print.
Palma, Rafael. 1949. Pride of the Malay Race: A Biography of José Rizal. Trans.
R. Ozaeta. New York: Prentice-Hall, Inc., 1966. Print.
Parco de Castro, Maria Eloisa. “José Rizal: A Birthday Wish List.” The Varsitarian,
Vol.LXXXVI, No.1 (18 July 2014). Web. 30 August 2014. Print. <http://www.
varsitarian.net/news/special_news/20110618/jose_rizal_a_birthday_wish_list> Web.
Rizal, José. El amor patrio. Fortú 14–20. Print.
—. El filibusterismo. 1965. Trans. León M. Guerrero. London: Longman, 1980. Print.
—. Filipinas dentro de cien años. Fortú 72–108. Print.
—. Noli Me Tangere. Trans. León M. Guerrero. London: Longman, 1980. Print.
—. Sobre la indolencia de los filipinos. Fortú 109–147. Print.
—. Testamento político. Fortú 148–150. Print.
Santa María, F.P. In Excelsis: The Mission of José P. Rizal, Humanist and Philippine
National Hero. Makati City, PH: Studio Five Designs, Inc., 1996. Print.

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Mark DeStephano, S.J., Ph.D., Saint Peter’s University, Jersey City,

EARLY LIFE AND UPBRINGING

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114 © URAM Volume 34, nos. 1-2, 2011, Published 2015

UNIVERSITY STUDIES AND AWAKENING NATIONALISM

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(qtd. in Palma 34)

116 © URAM Volume 34, nos. 1-2, 2011, Published 2015

Displeased as Rizal was with the intellectual environment at the Universidad de

© URAM Volume 34, nos. 1-2, 2011, Published 2015 117

FRIENDSHIP WITH BLUMENTRITT, FURTHER STUDIES IN GERMANY,

118 © URAM Volume 34, nos. 1-2, 2011, Published 2015

THE STRUGGLE INTENSIFIES

In September of the following year – 1891 – a sequel to Rizal’s Noli me tangere,

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120 © URAM Volume 34, nos. 1-2, 2011, Published 2015

So great was Rizal’s skill as an ophthalmologist, and so widespread his renown,

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122 © URAM Volume 34, nos. 1-2, 2011, Published 2015

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124 © URAM Volume 34, nos. 1-2, 2011, Published 2015

RIZAL’S VISION OF REFORM

© URAM Volume 34, nos. 1-2, 2011, Published 2015 125

EPILOGUE: RIZAL AND URAM

(qtd. in Bueno 164)

126 © URAM Volume 34, nos. 1-2, 2011, Published 2015

My dreams, while yet merely a child, or when nearing maturity,

(my translation, Morga vi)

O dream that inspired my life, my ardent enduring desire,

My idolized motherland, whose grieving makes me grieve,

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128 © URAM Volume 34, nos. 1-2, 2011, Published 2015

© URAM Volume 34, nos. 1-2, 2011, Published 2015 129

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