Manny Pacquiao’s devastating knockout of British fighter Ricky Hatton last Sunday spawned a full-blown national controversy, not over Pacquiao’s undisputed boxing skills, but over the rendition by singer Martin Nievera of the Philippine National Anthem ahead of the fight.
The tempest over a song sidelined another issue that erupted after Pacquiao, in the flush of euphoria, announced plans to run for Congress, believing it’s timely to take another crack at politics after a humiliating defeat in the 2007 congressional election for the first district of South Cotabato because he is now at the new height of his popularity.
Whether or not his reentry into the treacherous terrain of the political arena would lead to his ruin, either financially or in terms of prestige, is the least of my concerns. Pacquiao knows best what’s good for him and in what discipline he excels most; but I’m not sure if he will feel at home in the company of countless dolts in Congress or be counted as part of their “honorable” circle. Maybe, at some point of their association, assuming he is successful in his fresh bid for Congress, Pacquiao, through osmosis, can mutate quickly into a rapacious predator of pork-barrel funds, sparing him the need to dig into his hard-earned prize money from boxing to gratify the gluttonous demands for patronage of his electoral constituency.
The controversy over Nievera’s interpretation of “Lupang Hinirang” reveals an aspect of the Filipino character, our people’s ultrasensitivity to nationalistic issues. It tells us never to tamper with our iconic nationalistic symbols, such as the anthem, which we take to heart every day of our lives, including when we start the working week with a flag ceremony in schools and government offices, or when watching the movies.
Nievera has been widely criticized for taking liberties in interpreting the anthem, a sacrosanct symbol. Nievera sang the anthem at the fight upon the request of Pacquiao, who needed it to boost his morale and fire up his Filipino fans in the arena. In the Olympics, national anthems are played in celebration after victory has been won on the playing fields, but in boxing the anthems are sang before the fight begins to rouse up aggression in the fighters fighting for national glory and honor.
The Pacquiao-Hatton fight was tremendously important to Filipino self-esteem, sense of national identity and pride. We have been starved of success in our national undertakings. We have failed more than we have succeeded in many of our national projects. The Pacquiao victory proved we are not a failed state, an economic basket case, as many of our critics are wont to classify us, and we are capable of achievement at the top, even if only in the brutal sport of boxing. In such a sport, the inspiration provided by the National Anthem is extremely important for our national pride. We have had a long-standing problem with our national identity as a people, but I don’t believe we have an identity problem and the problem stems from a self-inflicted inferiority complex.
The issue of Nievera’s interpretation of our anthem was succinctly expressed by the National Historical Institute. Its chair, Ambeth Ocampo, expressed a widely-shared view when he took Nievera to task, saying “‘Lupang Hinirang’ is not open to free interpretation.” A historian, Ocampo noted that Nievera started the anthem slowly, took on a martial beat in the middle, then ended on a sustained high note.
Ocampo pointed out that the manner in which the anthem is to be sung or played is defined by law. Section 37 of Republic Act No. 849, the 1988 Flag and Heraldic Code, provides that “the rendition of the National Anthem shall be in accordance with the musical arrangement and composition of Julian Felipe.”
Our anthem is march music borne out of a revolutionary struggle. It is the spirit of the anthem. Felipe composed the music as a march, commissioned by Emilio Aguinaldo for the proclamation of the Kawit Republic on June 12, 1898. It was originally titled “Marcha Filipina Magdalo,” and was first played by the San Francisco de Malabon Band. It was composed to fire up revolutionary spirit and resistance, to fight against all odds as the Kawit republic struggled for its life.
Nievera said he was told by many, including Pacquiao, “not to sing it slow.” They wanted him “to sing it like a march, the way it was written.” Ignoring those warnings, Nievera interpreted the song the way he understood it. He said that “from the deepest part of my heart I sang for my country.” He explained that he tried “to inspire a nation—which was all I tried to do.”
Many Filipinos did not like what they heard. Many believed his tampering with or distortion of the arrangement of Felipe robbed the anthem of its martial context. The revolutionary spirit was lost in the alteration. It sounded as if the music was composed in a milieu of peace and tranquility when in reality it was composed amid one of the most turbulent periods of the Filipino people’s struggle for independence and national sovereignty. The period was the end of the Spanish empire and the advent of another colonial rule by the expansionist, imperial America.
Nievera’s explanations do not justify his alterations. Singers without a sense of history, who sing for their pleasure, strip historic musical themes of their meaning. I replayed the video of Nievera’s rendition to our staff or secretaries at the Inquirer who are in their 20s and 30s. They found that Nievera’s tempo failed to capture the military cadence that they were taught in school and they are used to singing during flag ceremonies. Singers who fail to capture this rhythm are isolated and are out of step with history.
