Love for things Filipino
EVERY AUGUST, which is “Buwan ng Wika” (National Language Month), schools promote love for the Filipino language—and, by extension, love for all things Filipino.
As a child, I enjoyed Buwan ng Wika activities, but the exhortations to be nationalistic—such as to speak the Filipino language and to “buy Filipino”—made me uneasy. I grew up doubting whether I love my country enough.
At first glance, my background does not fit that of the stereotyped nationalist. I spent my early childhood in the United States, where I learned to speak. Although I easily learned Filipino after I returned to the Philippines when I was five, I remained—and remain—more fluent in English than in Filipino. To this day, I cannot help yearning for the American things that were part of my early childhood—restaurants like McDonalds, Kentucky Fried Chicken and Roy Rogers; canned pasta by Chef Boyardee; Kenner toys; Tinkerbell cosmetics for kids; apple cider; trick-or-treating on Halloween; snowmen and snowball fights in winter.
As an adult, I had the opportunity to study in Spain, our other former foreign occupier. There, I learned that Spaniards are not racist, cruel oppressors like the caricatured fraile or guardia civil. On the contrary, the Spaniards I have met are warm, fun people. I had many “what, you too?” moments with Spaniards, moments which, according to C.S. Lewis, indicate true friendship. I could not help falling in love with Spain and her ways. I could not help appreciating most of the things we Filipinos learned from her—not the least of which is Catholicism.
In time, my ties with Spain and America made me explore my own country more, in search of similarities with these nations that I have learned to appreciate. In the process, I learned that while Filipinos have many things in common with Spaniards and Americans, we are not them. We are unique, and even when we imitate them, we do so in a distinctly Filipino way. I learned, for example, that our heritage churches are not exact replicas of the grand cathedrals in Spain, despite the shared features. Our cuisine may feature many dishes with Spanish names, but our dishes have distinct flavors.
I also learned from my more-than-friendly relationship with the foreign occupiers of the Philippines that despite it, I cannot shake off being Filipino and loving Filipino things. I crave steamed rice and ulam when I am abroad. I enjoy cheering Manny Pacquiao on whenever he has a match. I love the Philippines’ verdant fields and forests, sparkling blue seas and fiery sunsets. I love learning about Philippine culture and history, about the achievements, ideals, virtues and struggles of our national heroes. My heart wells up with pride whenever I see the Philippine flag flying in the wind, its blue field on top for peace.
For these reasons, I hesitate to deny my Filipino identity. Nevertheless, I dare not hold myself up as a model of patriotism. For I realize that having a sentimental attachment to one’s native land and ways and wearing national pride on one’s sleeve are just the easiest parts of love for one’s country.
For now, I will not even discuss whether or not love for our country requires us to ignore or explain away its defects, to refuse to acknowledge ways in which other countries may be superior, or to pretend that universal values transcending nationalities do not exist. For now, the question simply is: Assuming that these are legitimate manifestations of love for one’s country, are they enough?
It is easy to crow whenever a Filipino athlete bags the gold in an international sporting event, or to cry “racist” whenever a Hollywood celebrity publicly complains about the squalor of some parts of Metro Manila. Being proud of the Philippines is easy. What is harder—but more important—is to behave consistently from day to day in a manner that will make the Philippines proud of us. This requires us to leave our comfort zone, shake off our apathy, transcend our pettiness, challenge our own mediocrity, and concern ourselves with the common good. But love for country, like any other kind of love, is proven by sacrifice, big or small.
Moreover, love for country, like any other kind of love, challenges the lover to become a better version of himself or herself for the sake of the beloved. An example would be with regard to love for the Filipino language. If we really want to promote love for our language, it is not enough to quote, at every opportunity, the saying “Ang hindi magmahal sa sariling wika ay higit pa sa hayop at malansang isda.” We should ask ourselves: Have we expressed the better version of ourselves with our language? In other words, have we dignified our own language by using it to express lofty thoughts and sentiments? Or have we degraded it by using it to express baseness and crassness?
If the answers to these questions are “no,” what are we willing to do to change things? Writers, public speakers, media practitioners, and others especially gifted with more talents and opportunities to promote the Filipino language must, especially, ask themselves these questions; however, every Filipino bears the responsibility of making our own language more respected.
The point is not so much to condemn what has come to be known as “Pinoy pride,” which may be healthy if it is within reasonable limits and sustained for the right reasons. Rather, the point is to challenge those who are proud of the Philippines—myself included—to transcend superficial nationalism, and to show their love for country in little, mundane, everyday deeds.
Cristina A. Montes graduated from the Master en Derecho de la Globalizacion e Integracion Social program of the Universidad de Navarra in Spain. She also holds bachelor’s degrees in laws and in humanities (specializing in philosophy) from the University of the Philippines and the University of Asia and the Pacific, respectively.
