‘Never again’
I was recently reflecting on the fate that befell the Quimpo family, whose story is told in the book “Subversive Lives: A Family Memoir of the Marcos Years.”
One question I puzzled over was why seven of the 10 siblings felt called upon to sacrifice their youth—and one, perhaps two—of them to pay the ultimate sacrifice for the sake of the anti-Marcos struggle, and the longer and more enduring struggle for justice and freedom.
One obvious answer is of course the times, for the young Quimpos found themselves maturing in the years of turmoil leading up to martial law and the period of state violence that followed. Like so many others, they felt compelled to answer the call. And for the younger siblings, seeing how their older siblings suffered torture and detention, perhaps it was also a call of conscience.
There were also circumstances. The brothers could not even visit the family home, for fear of drawing surveillance, if not raids. Norman, who studied at the Ateneo, was driven underground when he was expelled and had nowhere to go. A sister was doing cultural work but arrest and detention altered her reality inexorably.
Perhaps this confluence of history, youth, repression and peer pressure would not occur again. But only if we have learned the right lessons, and provided other channels for youthful energy and spirit. But first, we must keep reminding ourselves of what transpired, and why we should not forget.
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On cyberspace and on texting networks, there has been a flurry of messages regarding the recent passing of Mario Taguiwalo. He may not have been a celebrity, in the usual understanding of the word, which only goes to show how fame or accomplishment has been cheapened.
But at least in the circles I move in, Mario was a certified celebrity, and not just because he flirted with show business (look for his movie cameos as a venal mayor or detective) but because he was respected for his intellect, his insightful views, his humor, and his penchant for never taking anything, especially himself, seriously.
We at pagbabago@pilipinas called him our “spirit guide.” And he was literally that for me, though I never told him so to his face. But I believed everything Mario told me. And when I had yet to make up my mind about a pressing public issue, when I read something he wrote, or listened to his analysis, he would invariably convert me. He was a guide to the core issues of any political dispute or ideological conflict. And I always sensed a kindness and empathy in him, especially when he faced the deaths of two of his sons who died in young adulthood.
In 2003, pagbabago held a rock concert to commemorate the declaration of martial law. We did this mainly to remind young people of what happened in those years and how much the youth of that day, the generation of their parents, had sacrificed.
As was our wont, we asked Mario to deliver the opening message. And it is to remember him, and to recall his life and sacrifice (he was, like the Quimpos, one of those youths who followed the call) that I now reprint his words that day, echoing his fervent wish that the country no longer require the sacrifice of young lives in exchange for our freedoms.
* * *
Good evening, you lucky Filipinos, living in freedom and democracy today, free to do great things or stupid things of your choice, enjoying democracy even for the desperate. We are indeed lucky Filipinos.
We live in terrible times. Life is hard and it hardly seems to get better. Money is short and hope is even more scarce.
Yet it might be raining troubles today, but there was a time when we were in the midst of a flood of problems. It might seem like nothing works for us these days, but there was a time when everything worked against us. It might seem that our government cannot be trusted these days, but there was a time when our government was really out to get us. It might seem that our police and military cannot seem to do right these days, but there was a time when they were terribly efficient in doing wrong.
Yes, my dear lucky Filipinos, there was a time, more than 30 years ago, when we were not so lucky, when a sh-tload of really heavy bad things descended upon our beautiful country. There was a time when our government did not only fail us, but really oppressed, attacked, and hounded us.
So let me ask all of us here today to shout with me—Never Again! Let us shout really loud so that those intending to be future dictators can hear us—Never Again!
There was a time when we were a nation of 80 million cowards and one son-of-a-bitch dictator. But, mga pare at mare, Never Again!
There was a time when a Japanese tourist told us that we are a rucky people because we have a president who robs us and a first lady who robs us even more. But, my friends, Never Again!
There was a time when our sisters were raped, our brothers murdered, our fathers imprisoned, our mothers did not stop crying, and we ourselves were paralyzed by fear. But mga kababayan ko, Never Again!
There was time when soldiers cut the long hair of young men against their will. But for those among us who love their hair long, we say, Never Again!
There was time when the brains of a Science High student got scattered on the streets by an exploding pillbox. Those of us who still have our brains, we cry, Never Again!
There was time when we were immobilized by threat, when we did not know what to believe, when we thought that fear, ignorance and intimidation would never end. But now we know, Never Again!
Finally, there was a time we could hardly muster the courage to protest, when we could hardly find the strength to be outraged, when we thought each of us was alone against the terrible machinery of oppression. But now we are sure, Never Again!
