Original sins
Accusations and arguments have been flying thick and fast between the camps of Manila Mayor Joseph Estrada and his predecessor, former mayor Alfredo Lim, over who’s really to blame for the “Torre de Manila” debacle.
Variously described as the “pambansang (national) photobomber” or the “terror de Manila,” the 49-story Torre de Manila looms above the Rizal Monument on the Luneta, ruining, for many, the line of sight from the monument and beyond. Imagine, for instance, a commercial mall dominating the view of the American White House or the Washington Monument; or a skyscraper standing in the way of the iconic Eiffel Tower.
Unless the “Torre” is torn down, every photo of the president or visiting dignitary raising the flag or laying a wreath at the foot of the Rizal Monument will have as its backdrop the “Torre” dominating the Manila skyline. It may be true, as some commentators have posited, that the “Torre” need not disrupt the background of the monument since, taken from an angle, a photo may exclude the building. But dignitaries posing in front of the monument (and resting place) of Rizal do so right in front of it. Why should everybody else adjust their view, just to accommodate a building developer?
The claims made by both Estrada and Lim are interesting. Both have hurled charges at each
other that money changed hands when the contractor applied for a building permit, and then when it sought a council resolution to allow the building to violate current restrictions. Estrada says Lim committed the “original sin” by issuing to DMCI, the “Torre’s” developer, the building permit in the first place. Lim counters that he had allowed the “Torre” to reach only nine floors, which presumably would not allow it to loom over the Rizal Monument, but that the city council during Estrada’s watch flouted the rules and allowed DMCI to build all the way to 49 floors.
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Well, actually the “original sin” may be blamed on another former mayor of Manila, now party-list congressman Lito Atienza.
The “Torre” stands on the lot where the iconic Jai Alai building used to stand. At the time of its demolition, heritage groups protested the razing of the Jai Alai complex, citing its architectural and historical significance. Atienza ignored all calls to stop the demolition or else opt for the “creative reuse” of the complex—using it for the intended purpose while preserving its essential structure—at the same time defending his decision to push through with the destruction of the building (supposedly to give way to much-needed office space for the city government), by arguing that the Jai Alai building symbolized “immoral” activities as it was linked to gambling and other social ills.
Well, it seems the site of the “Torre” stands now for more than just gambling and gamboling (it was the locale for the most glamorous social events of the time). It now stands as a mute witness to the basic blindness and indifference of government people to things like history, heritage, national identity and even beauty. Add to that the role that corruption and hubris play in destroying our memories and our pride.
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I still remember the Jai Alai building, albeit only from afar. But even just its exteriors had a certain panache, a sweeping vista that evoked action and breathless confidence. Use Google to look up the Jai Alai building, and there will be photos of this complex that used to lend Taft Avenue—already in 2000 (the year it was destroyed) turning steadily seedy and dingy—a touch of class and distinction.
I have yet to see the “Torre de Manila” up close, but even the photos of it photo-bombing our National Hero’s monument tell me that the structure is no great shakes in terms of architectural progress or significance. It looks like just another concrete shoebox, and despite the millions of pesos that DMCI claims it will lose if construction is halted permanently (and the structure demolished), the Filipino people as a whole will not lose anything by it. True, hundreds (says DMCI) of construction workers will lose their livelihood, but shouldn’t that be the look-out of the contractor, or else its insurers?
On the other hand, consider what we all lose with the monument to our National Hero, always the centerpiece of our national celebrations and of any event of any significance, degraded and deemed a laughingstock of the world? Have we no pride? Or, more correctly, have our officials no shame?
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To be clear, the Rizal Monument is not “just” a monument. To emphasize its centrality in our history, the national government has designated it as “KM 0,” meaning it is from this spot that all roads in the country are measured and documented. It is, literally, the heart of the archipelago.
And while the lawyers debate the merits or demerits of the case against the “Torre,” we should likewise turn our attention to the way our local officials take care—or neglect—the monuments, shrines and historical sites under their care.
Already, culture advocate and iconoclastic tour guide Carlos Celdran has posted photos of the Bonifacio Monument (which, in terms of artistic merit outstrips, for me, the Rizal Monument) in Caloocan, crowded almost cheek-by-jowl by commercial establishments, including a bright yellow SM mall.
Indeed, the rotunda on which the Bonifacio Monument stands (the height of accomplishment of sculptor Guillermo Tolentino) was meant to stand as a proud symbol “welcoming” everyone entering Manila and environs from northern Luzon. That we have allowed it to deteriorate into yet another victim of commercialization and urban congestion tells us that we have lost whatever value we put on history and our heroes—in exchange for commerce and crassness.
