| David Martinez: Activist Forever Part 2 By Heidi M. Pascual |
| Background: In part 1, David Martinez talked about his past, what led him to his exile in the United States after the declaration of martial law by the late Philippine President Ferdinand Marcos in 1972, and why he left the Movement for a Free Philippines (MFP), the single largest anti-dictatorship group, which was led by the late Sen. Raul Manglapus and later by the late Sen. Benigno "Ninoy" Aquino. Ninoy Aquino was the husband of Corazon Aquino who became president after the People Power Revolution at EDSA (Epifanio Delos Santos Avenue) in Manila in February 1986. He was assassinated on the tarmac of Manila International Airport as he was returning from the United States on Aug. 21, 1983. (A Marcos-government investigation led by jurist Corazon Agrava found that Ninoy Aquino's assassination resulted from a military conspiracy; however, the Sandiganbayan, a high court prosecuting government officials for crimes, ruled out any involvement of Marcos' military.) In this installment, Martinez describes the circumstance that changed his perception about Ninoy Aquino's leadership and discusses at length his revolutionary proposal to divide the Philippines into five "nations," as contained in his latest book, "A Country of Our Own: Partitioning the Philippines." |
| "[Ninoy Aquino] was much more charismatic [than Raul Manglapus], younger, had a better vision, and was perceived by everybody to better represent the entire opposition to this authoritarian regime," Martinez recalled. "So everybody who once revolved around Manglapus abandoned him and started to revolve around Ninoy -- Steve Psinakis, Serge Osmeña, Raul Daza, Sonny Alvarez -- everybody." They all thought Aquino was 'the man." Meanwhile, in the Philippines in the early '80s, chaos and an uncertain future were the daily fare. The bombings in Manila included one at the YMCA which almost killed one of Martinez's best friends, Victor Lovely, a Filipino American. "He almost killed himself when his bomb exploded accidentally in his room," Martinez said. "After a year in detention, he had lost his eyesight, there was shrapnel in his brain, he [had] lost an arm, and [he'd] lost his hearing." With the help of a machine, Lovely told Martinez that it was Ninoy Aquino who sent him. When Martinez confronted Aquino, the latter reportedly said he had encouraged Lovely, the same way he had encouraged others, to destabilize the Philippine government and, if possible, even "assassinate Marcos from here." Martinez said he didn't want to judge decisions of consenting adults, but he was more interested in a leader helping a fallen follower. "I asked Ninoy why, while Jun [Lovely] was in detention in Manila, tortured by the Philippine military, he didn't lift a finger to help Jun's wife and children here. I had to attend to them myself, and a few other friends, [too, to] care for their needs," Martinez said, with a passion in his eyes only a firsthand witness can muster. "I felt it was wrong for a general to abandon a bleeding soldier in the field." Aquino reportedly got angry at Martinez and reminded him that all soldiers are dispensable. "I said to myself, 'This is not the leader I want to follow,''" Martinez said. After that, he distanced himself from Aquino. After the "death of martial law," as Martinez put it, many of his friends were rewarded by Corazon Aquino with positions in the Philippine government. "Sonny Alvarez became a senator; Serge Osmeña ultimately became a senator," Martinez said, and he included names of some who claimed to be Marcos-fighters in title only. "I think the only people deserving were people like the late Bonifacio Gillego, a man of honor. He didn't fight for positions; he didn't fight for glory. He served his people [and] he died a poor man. But the majority who were in the anti-Marcos struggle were looking [out] for their own interests." Martinez was quick to add that he wasn't sourgraping. He was offered the gubernatorial post in Negros Oriental. Reasons for writing "A Country of Our Own: Partitioning the Philippines" "I never knew who I was," Martinez said as he recalled events in his life that led to his decision to write a book proposing a division of the Philippines. "Looking back, as I grew older and got to know people of different nationalities, I started asking myself, 'How come I was so different from them?'" After much thought and research, Martinez concluded that the way he was taught in school was the reason. "Nobody taught me that Cebuano [the native tongue in the Visayas] is a language; [rather, I was told its was] a mere dialect," he exclaimed. "In school, I was taught the national language [Filipino or Tagalog] and English." On top of that, the boy Martinez learned about national heroes like Jose Rizal and Francisco Baltazar, but he wasn't taught about local Visayan heroes and heroines. He said the Philippine history books used in schools were written by "Agoncillo, Zafra, Guerrero, and Zaide -- pencionados sent to study in the U.S., get a degree, come home, and write history books. And more often than not histories are written from the viewpoint of the victor, never from the [viewpoint of the] vanquished." The Philippine education system, Martinez added, made a little Brown American out of him, which made him as confused as ever. It was this confusion and identity crisis that pushed Martinez to seek the answer to his question, "Who am I?" "The Philippines is very multicultural, with 169 languages, not dialects," Martinez explained. "We tried to find unity in uniformity by having one common language, unlike what India did -- unity in diversity. India has 18 national languages, in recognition of the 18 major nations inside that state! Why paint a canvas with single color, if you can weave an even more powerful tapestry of a rainbow of colors?" Pointing to a litany of problems in the Philippine society, including corruption, child prostitution, malnutrition, drug and gambling addiction, self-flagellation, communist and Muslim rebellions, congestion, slums, etc., Martinez said, "I submit that at the root of many of these problems -- although they may appear to be political, military, and socioeconomic problems -- is our lack of cultural memory." He cited examples of societies that have endured by building not only solid physical infrastructure, but also social infrastructure of liberal democracy, in which the rights of minorities are respected. "These stable, entrenched societies all have a powerful sense of identity and a deep reverence for the past," a contemplative Martinez said. "There is a deep loyalty to tradition and continuity, which is not to say 'no' to modernity; but everything new that they embrace is always tempered with this love of the past and the lessons taught by history." Martinez said sociologists agree that a culture detached from its roots is a culture that becomes self-destructive and alienated from itself. "[Without] cultural memory, [one doesn't have] a framework from which to firmly determine which is acceptable and which is unacceptable behavior," Martinez posited. "Oddly enough, sociologists and psychologists find that the more primitive a society is primitive in the sense that you still have the importance of family, respect for elders, and all that, the less crime there is, and the more 'modern' it is, the more of a 'ME' generation it becomes." While Martinez doesn't propose a return to the Dark Ages, he strongly proposes a return to one's cultural past and learning one's true history, something that's not politically imposed but rather comes through a natural societal evolution. I intended to make this the final installment of my interview with David Martinez; however, I feel that his subject matter is very relevant and enlightening, and that ending this story prematurely will be an injustice to my readers and my profession. Watch for the third and final installment in the August issue of Asian Wisconzine. -- Heidi M. Pascual |
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| David Martinez |
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