The supremo
He was a man of paradox: In today’s terms, he would be called an out-of-school youth turned upwardly mobile worker; an orphan with a telenovela background who died a tragic, ultimately triumphant death; a social pro who created a secret society; a hero-worshipping autodidact who himself became a hero, and inspired other heroes.
That secret society, of course, was the Kataastaasan, Kagalanggalang na Katipunan ng Mga Anak ng Bayan, the revolutionary organization we all know as the Katipunan or the KKK. And its chief leader was Andres Bonifacio, whose 150th birth anniversary we commemorate today.
It is only the plain truth to say that, without Bonifacio, the Philippines would be an entirely different nation. The Philippine Revolution of 1896 is the primary and formative experience of Philippine nationhood, and that revolution was principally Bonifacio’s doing.
It was not Bonifacio’s project alone; indeed, he saw himself as following in the footsteps of other patriots. He belonged to that generation politicized by the manifestly unjust execution of the priests Mariano Gomez, Jose Burgos, and Jacinto Zamora in 1872; he was among those in Manila who followed the work of the propagandists Jose Rizal and Marcelo del Pilar in Europe, even copying some of their letters and sharing these with others; he worked closely with many, including the brilliant student Emilio Jacinto. He also personally initiated a considerable number of new recruits into the Katipunan, including Emilio Aguinaldo of Kawit, Cavite.
Sadly, the revolution was not Bonifacio’s project to finish. Aguinaldo deposed him in March 1897—a mere seven months after the revolution started—and fought the Spanish colonial regime first to a stalemate, then (in the second phase of the revolution) to the brink of defeat. (The Americans, busy creating their own empire, intervened.)
But we honor Bonifacio’s memory even when we acknowledge these limitations, because his evolving national project—a society, in its final version, of all free Filipinos—came true. His revolutionary name, Maypagasa (“There is hope”), proved prophetic.
How did prophecy become reality?
He had a genius for organizing. All the accounts agree that he cofounded the Katipunan, but he wasn’t the secret society’s first chief (that was Deodato Arellano), or even the second (Roman Basa). There is nothing in the historical record to suggest that this was a failure of leadership on Bonifacio’s part. Indeed, the opposite is most likely true; it was a deliberate decision to open the top post to men of greater reputation. It was only in 1894, or two years after the founding, that Bonifacio formally assumed the leadership that was actually his from the start.
(It is important to note, as we learn from historian Jim Richardson, that Bonifacio became “Pangulo” of the Katipunan through an election that was subsequently ratified by the membership. It was through a similar intra-movement election some three years later that Bonifacio lost the leadership struggle with Aguinaldo, the most successful of revolutionary generals.)
The rapid growth in the membership of the Katipunan can be traced to the time of Bonifacio’s formal assumption of leadership. He was certainly a driven leader, and kept changing the structure of the Katipunan to make it a more effective organization. But he also found it easy to delegate full responsibility; he gave Jacinto free rein regarding political messages, and readily agreed to Pio Valenzuela’s request to set up a revolutionary newspaper.
He dared to act. In August 1896, after months of consultation with members of the Katipunan, he launched the Revolution. The historical accounts disagree on the actual date, but it was upon Bonifacio’s command that the first attack on the Spanish colonial regime commenced. He advanced the cause of the Generation of 1872, of the Propaganda Movement and of the unmistakable political ferment of the 1890s, in the only direction worth taking: armed struggle.
A revolution devours its own children, and the Philippine Revolution was no different. Bonifacio fell victim to intense political infighting inside the revolutionary movement, and was eventually ordered executed, on May 10, 1897. That is one reason we do not commemorate the day of his death; it shows the contradictions within the revolutionary movement that helped define the Philippine project. But we do remember him on the day of his birth. It is a fitting act, for Bonifacio helped bring about the birth of the nation.
