Rising for anthem and flag
I attended a fashion show at the Cultural Center of the Philippines recently and wondered aloud why the program began with the National Anthem. Rising for the anthem or an invocation (which, by the way, should properly be after the anthem) during an official program is understandable, but rising for the anthem before a screening of “The Avengers” isn’t. Being in formal attire for a serious program that begins with the anthem is one thing, but having to act formally in informal attire while holding popcorn in one hand and soda in the other is another. There are times when too much of the anthem, in inappropriate settings, not only cheapens it but also conditions people to disrespect the two symbols of the nation that we commemorate on June 12: The flag and the anthem.
Call me old-fashioned, but when I was a schoolboy we were taught to respect the flag when it was raised in the morning and taken down in the afternoon. We stopped whatever we were doing and stood at attention when we heard the anthem. Today, especially in the cinema during the last full show, some people will not even get to their feet, or will do so grudgingly, for the anthem. Perhaps a revision of the Flag Law is in order, so that we will not require the playing of the anthem in cinemas anymore, and teach people to be more sensitive about the use and abuse of the anthem.
Not all infractions of the Flag Law are disrespectful, though. At a performance in Resorts World recently a musical started with the National Anthem. In my view, this was absolutely unnecessary, but what made me want to walk out was that the flag on stage was flood-lit, with a hidden fan turned on full-blast to make it billow for the duration of the anthem. Sometimes, someone takes the flag and waves it at the audience. Nobody seems to mind, and only once did I see someone go up to the flag-waver, shouting: “Leave that flag alone!”
Our flag is such a common sight that we see but rarely notice it. This probably explains why the flag with the red field up on the uniforms of some of our “imported” athletes went unnoticed until photos and comments went viral on social media, prodding someone to admit to an “honest” mistake.
My respect for the flag comes partly from grade school and Boy Scout training, but more from interviews with old people who lived through World War II, or even older folks who lived under American rule. I have listened to a number of people describe what they felt when, on July 4, 1946, the American flag was taken down as the Philippine flag was raised, to acknowledge when the United States finally recognized the independence it took from the First Philippine Republic in 1898. These old folks described how tears fell from their eyes as they watched the Philippine flag given its due. Half a century later, nobody seems to mind the flag.
The late congressman Sonny Escudero (father of Chiz) always had flags in his car because as he went through the city he often noticed that the biggest violators of the Flag Law were government offices from the barangay to the national level. Escudero would often stop his car, enter a barangay hall or police detachment, and ask why the flag was not lowered and folded at sundown, or why a faded and tattered flag was flying. Often the sheepish reply was that there were no funds for a new flag.
Escudero would not bother to argue or explain that flags are part of every annual government budget. He would hand over a new flag and ask that the old one be disposed of properly and with respect. As Boy Scouts, we were taught the proper way to burn a flag and bury its ashes, but that was when flags were made of cotton or linen. Today, flags are made of plastic or nylon, so burning them becomes a hazard to the environment. There must be a way to dispose of flags without burning them. Someone should also determine whether athletes draping themselves with the colors after a match, like a towel, is appropriate.
The flag and anthem we are supposed to respect and revere were born of the Philippine Revolution against Spain and fired in the crucible of the Philippine-American War and the Japanese Occupation. The flag and anthem were born on June 12, 1898, when a long declaration of independence was read from a window of Emilio Aguinaldo’s home in Kawit, Cavite. We often forget that declaring independence is one thing and actually gaining that independence is quite another.
Our first flag had a blood-red field with three white “Ks—shortcut for K.K.K.A.N.B., or Kataastaasan Kagalanggalang na Katipunan ng mga Anak ng Bayan (Highest and most respected league of the children of the nation). It was later revised, with the three “Ks” joined by a white sun with many rays. Then only one of the three “Ks” remained and was replaced by “Ka” in the baybayin or Philippine syllabary, to denote “Kalayaan” (Freedom). Then “Ka” was placed in the center of a sun with eight rays, symbolizing the first eight provinces placed under martial law by the Spaniards at the outbreak of the revolution: Batangas, Bulacan, Cavite, Laguna, Nueva Ecija, Manila, Pampanga and Tarlac. Our present flag evolved from the Katipunan flags into a design approved by Emilio Aguinaldo and sewn by Marcela Agoncillo, Lorenza Agoncillo and Delfina Herbosa de Natividad in Hong Kong in 1898.
If we remember the long story of our flag, maybe we will treat it with more respect.
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