The Philippines a Century Hence
change things, and has little care for life. Machiavelli himself held
this means of subjecting a people to be perilous, observing that loss
of welfare stirs up more obdurate enemies than loss of life. Moreover,
when there are wealth and abundance, there is less discontent, less
complaint, and the government, itself wealthier, has more means for
sustaining itself. On the other hand, there occurs in a poor country
what happens in a house where bread is wanting. And further, of what
use to the mother country would a poor and lean colony be?
Neither is it possible gradually to exterminate the inhabitants. The
Philippine races, like all the Malays, do not succumb before the
foreigner, like the Australians, the Polynesians and the Indians
of the New World. In spite of the numerous wars the Filipinos have
had to carry on, in spite of the epidemics that have periodically
visited them, their number has trebled, as has that of the Malays
of Java and the Moluccas. The Filipino embraces civilization and
lives and thrives in every clime, in contact with every people. Rum,
that poison which exterminated the natives of the Pacific islands,
has no power in the Philippines, but, rather, comparison of their
present condition with that described by the early historians, makes
it appear that the Filipinos have grown soberer. The petty wars
with the inhabitants of the South consume only the soldiers, people
who by their fidelity to the Spanish flag, far from being a menace,
are surely one of its solidest supports.
There remains the fostering of intestine feuds among the provinces.
This was formerly possible, when communication from one island
to another was rare and difficult, when there were no steamers or
telegraph-lines, when the regiments were formed according to the
various provinces, when some provinces were cajoled by awards of
privileges and honors and others were protected from the strongest. But
now that the privileges have disappeared, that through a spirit of
distrust the regiments have been reorganized, that the inhabitants
move from one island to another, communication and exchange of
impressions naturally increase, and as all see themselves threatened
by the same peril and wounded in the same feelings, they clasp hands
and make common cause. It is true that the union is not yet wholly
perfected, but to this end tend the measures of good government,
the vexations to which the townspeople are subjected, the frequent
changes of officials, the scarcity of centers of learning, which
forces the youth of all the Islands to come together and begin to
get acquainted. The journeys to Europe contribute not a little to
tighten the bonds, for abroad the inhabitants of the most widely
separated provinces are impressed by their patriotic feelings,
from sailors even to the wealthiest merchants, and at the sight of
modern liberty and the memory of the misfortunes of their country,
they embrace and call one another brothers.
In short, then, the advancement and ethical progress of the Philippines
are inevitable, are decreed by fate.
The Islands cannot remain in the condition they are without requiring
from the sovereign country more liberty Mutatis mutandis. For new men,
a new social order.
To wish that the alleged child remain in its swaddling-clothes is to
risk that it may turn against its nurse and flee, tearing away the
old rags that bind it.
The Philippines, then, will remain under Spanish domination, but
with more law and greater liberty, or they will declare themselves
independent, after steeping themselves and the mother country in blood.
As no one should desire or hope for such an unfortunate rupture,
which would be an evil for all and only the final argument in the most
desperate predicament, let us see by what forms of peaceful evolution
the Islands may remain subjected to the Spanish authority with the very
least detriment to the rights, interests and dignity of both parties.
III.
If the Philippines must remain under the control of Spain, they
will necessarily have to be transformed in a political sense, for
the course of their history and the needs of their inhabitants so
require. This we demonstrated in the preceding article.
We also said that this transformation will be violent and fatal if
it proceeds from the ranks of the people, but peaceful and fruitful
if it emanate from the upper classes.
Some governors have realized this truth, and, impelled by their
patriotism, have been trying to introduce needed reforms in order
to forestall events. But notwithstanding all that have been ordered
up to the present time, they have produced scanty results, for the
government as well as for the country. Even those that promised only
a happy issue have at times caused injury, for the simple reason that
they have been based upon unstable grounds.
We said, and once more we repeat, and will ever assert, that reforms
which have a palliative character are not only ineffectual but even
prejudicial, when the government is confronted with evils that must
be cured radically. And were we not convinced of the honesty and
rectitude of some governors, we would be tempted to say that all
the partial reforms are only plasters and salves of a physician who,
not knowing how to cure the cancer, and not daring to root it out,
tries in this way to alleviate the patient's sufferings or to temporize
with the cowardice of the timid and ignorant.
All the reforms of our liberal ministers were, have been, are, and
will be good--when carried out.
When we think of them, we are reminded of the dieting of Sancho
Panza in his Barataria Island. He took his seat at a sumptuous and
well-appointed table "covered with fruit and many varieties of food
differently prepared," but between the wretch's mouth and each dish
the physician Pedro Rezio interposed his wand, saying, "Take it
away!" The dish removed, Sancho was as hungry as ever. True it is
that the despotic Pedro Rezio gave reasons, which seem to have been
written by Cervantes especially for the colonial administrations:
"You must not eat, Mr. Governor, except according to the usage and
custom of other islands where there are governors." Something was
found to be wrong with each dish: one was too hot, another too moist,
and so on, just like our Pedro Rezios on both sides of the sea. Great
good did his cook's skill do Sancho! [4]
In the case of our country, the reforms take the place of the dishes,
the Philippines are Sancho, while the part of the quack physician is
played by many persons, interested in not having the dishes touched,
perhaps that they may themselves get the benefit of them.
The result is that the long-suffering Sancho, or the Philippines,
misses his liberty, rejects all government and ends up by rebelling
against his quack physician.
In like manner, so long as the Philippines have no liberty of the
press, have no voice in the Cortes to make known to the government
and to the nation whether or not their decrees have been duly obeyed,
whether or not these benefit the country, all the able efforts of
the colonial ministers will meet the fate of the dishes in Barataria
island.
The minister, then, who wants his reforms to be reforms, must begin
by declaring the press in the Philippines free and by instituting
Filipino delegates.
The press is free in the Philippines, because their complaints rarely
ever reach the Peninsula, very rarely, and if they do they are so
secret, so mysterious, that no newspaper dares to publish them,
or if it does reproduce them, it does so tardily and badly.
A government that rules a country from a great distance is the one that
has the most need for a free press, more so even than the government
of the home country, if it wishes to rule rightly and fitly. The
government that governs in a country may even dispense with the press
(if it can), because it is on the ground, because it has eyes and ears,
and because it directly observes what it rules and administers. But
the government that governs from afar absolutely requires that the
truth and the facts reach its knowledge by every possible channel,
so that it may weigh and estimate them better, and this need increases
when a country like the Philippines is concerned, where the inhabitants
speak and complain in a language unknown to the authorities. To govern
in any other way may also be called governing, but it is to govern
badly. It amounts to pronouncing judgment after hearing only one of
the parties; it is steering a ship without reckoning its conditions,
the state of the sea, the reefs and shoals, the direction of the winds
and currents. It is managing a house by endeavoring merely to give
it polish and a fine appearance without watching the money-chest,
without looking after the servants and the members of the family.
But routine is a declivity down which many governments slide, and
routine says that freedom of the press is dangerous. Let us see
what History says: uprisings and revolutions have always occurred in
countries tyrannized over, in countries where human thought and the
human heart have been forced to remain silent.
If the great Napoleon had not tyrannized over the press, perhaps it
would have warned him of the peril into which he was hurled and have
made him understand that the people were weary and the earth wanted
peace. Perhaps his genius, instead of being dissipated in foreign
aggrandizement, would have become intensive in laboring to strengthen
his position and thus have assured it. Spain herself records in her
history more revolutions when the press was gagged. What colonies
have become independent while they have had a free press and enjoyed
liberty? Is it preferable to govern blindly or to govern with ample
knowledge?
Some one will answer that in colonies with a free press, the prestige
of the rulers, that prop of false governments, will be greatly
imperiled. We answer that the prestige of the nation is preferable to
that of a few individuals. A nation acquires respect, not by abetting
and concealing abuses, but by rebuking and punishing them. Moreover,
to this prestige is applicable what Napoleon said about great men and
their valets. We, who endure and know all the false pretensions and
petty persecutions of those sham gods, do not need a free press in
order to recognize them; they have long ago lost their prestige. The
free press is needed by the government, the government which still
dreams of the prestige which it builds upon mined ground.
We say the same about the Filipino representatives.
What risks does the government see in them? One of three things:
either that they will prove unruly, become political trimmers, or
act properly.
Supposing that we should yield to the most absurd pessimism and admit
the insult, great for the Philippines, but still greater for Spain,
that all the representatives would be separatists and that in all
their contentions they would advocate separatist ideas: does not a
patriotic Spanish majority exist there, is there not present there
the vigilance of the governing powers to combat and oppose such
intentions? And would not this be better than the discontent that
ferments and expands in the secrecy of the home, in the huts and in
the fields? Certainly the Spanish people does not spare its blood
where patriotism is concerned, but would not a struggle of principles
in parliament be preferable to the exchange of shot in swampy lands,
three thousand leagues from home, in impenetrable forests, under a
burning sun or amid torrential rains? These pacific struggles of ideas,
besides being a thermometer for the government, have the advantage of
being cheap and glorious, because the Spanish parliament especially
abounds in oratorical paladins, invincible in debate. Moreover, it is