Speaking on behalf of the millennials
WE HAVE learned enough, but we have understood less.
We were born in a time of peace, in an age that rose from the struggles and sacrifices of martyrs. What do we know about life in a colonized nation? How do we live through war, when foreign armies marched on our land with rifles and bombs? Why do we want a return of the dictatorship that once reigned supreme and abused and killed our fellow Filipinos?
We learned of our nation’s history through the books required for us to read in school, through the lectures our teachers delivered within the walls of our classrooms, through reenactments in documentaries run on television. But I wonder: Is learning enough?
I remember the afternoons I spent with my grandfather when I was a child. Back then, he told me stories about his experience during World War II. He was quite a storyteller, but the tales he told were not about poisoned apples, knights and dragons, or shape-shifting frogs. His was a real-life narrative that happened when our country was invaded by Imperial Japan.
My grandfather was only a child when he and his family had to transfer from one town to another, fleeing from armed men—whether Japanese or American troops, or Filipino guerrillas—to avoid being in the range of fire. One time, his belly ached badly—he told me it was an inexplicable illness that lasted for days—and his brother had to carry him while the family and other refugees were on the run. Hospitals were always full of wounded civilians and deceased soldiers; there was no time to stop for a medical consultation. They had to endure sleepless nights in fear of being caught and never again seeing the light of day.
There were times when I asked my grandfather to tell me more. But sometimes he would refuse, reasoning that some of his experiences were inappropriate for a child to listen to. I had to try to understand how terrible it was in the days when our nation was enduring the horrors of war. Eventually, it was my grandfather who inspired me to be constantly curious of our nation’s history.
Then I realized that I had so much to learn.
When the 30th anniversary of Edsa I was celebrated last February, I browsed over articles on the internet about this triumphant revolution that ousted a tyrant and restored democracy in our country. Although I had learned about it in school, I craved for depth on the subject. Fortunately, there were credible news websites that posted stories related to it. The 1986 People Power Revolution sprouted from the atrocities inflicted by a dictatorship on the Filipino people, who were deprived of their freedom and their constitutional rights. It was a period that was horrifying and appalling.
I read the accounts of survivors and victims of the dictatorial regime, how they were made to suffer because of standing for something they believed in and fighting for what was right. Severe torture including electrocutions and beatings, isolation, rape, “salvaging,” and other grave violations of human rights were committed by military officers on defenseless women and men. One can read more about the victims’ bloody experiences from the records of the 70,000 imprisoned, 34,000 tortured, and 3,240 murdered.
I believe it was this oppression and brutality that provoked millions of Filipinos to revolt against an unjust government. Thirty years later, their triumph is immortalized in the hearts of many and written in books, articles and documentaries.
What’s great about learning history is that it can help us understand the present. We know why we live in an independent nation. We know why we relish our democratic freedom. We know why we do what we do now and we know who we are today. But limiting ourselves to learning can only let us view history from an aerial perspective. We get to be familiar with significant names and iconic places where important events took place, but we sometimes fail to consider the experiences of those who lived through these times. To complement our learning, we have to discover more than what our teachers, books and documentaries offer. We may need to learn history through the recollection of those who lived before us. By doing so, we get to understand. By understanding, we manage to empathize.
My grandfather was only one among the numerous survivors of World War II. Others have their stories to share. The millions that marched against tyranny on Edsa and other streets 30 years ago have their personal accounts of what had happened, to themselves and to others. It took great courage to face the dictatorship and endure the trials and tribulations inflicted on their generation.
As for ourselves, we have our own fight to win.
I write this on behalf of the Filipino millennials who may have learned enough but understand so little. We have to understand more than what we have learned so we cannot easily be deceived by opposite versions of history and dissuaded by false information scattered on social media. We must never forget what our forebears had to undergo to save our nation and to win back the liberty that we now enjoy.
Indeed, we were born in a time of peace, but that does not mean that our generation does not have conflicts of its own. The territorial dispute in the West Philippine Sea, the degradation of our environment, cyberbullying, gender inequality, and other burning issues… We have to know where we stand. These conflicts may be different from those faced by our predecessors, but they will inspire us to do what is right for the good of our country.
Angelo Lorenzo, 21, is a development communication graduate of Ateneo de Cagayan.
