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Chapter 12

THE PHILIPPINES

[124] What were the Philippines like after 450 years of separation from South Indonesia? This is the obvious question to arise in the heart of a lover of history who confronts the history of the whole of Indonesia.¹ In one Philippine school book I saw a picture of “the first Indonesian,” paddling a perahu.² Certainly the political relationship with Majapahit has left its imprint on the history of the Philippines.³

This chapter is not intended to answer completely the question posed above with regard to politics, economics, or culture. All I shall do is give a lightning sketch of that country, which now is said to be independent, has a population of some ten million, struggled to the death for some four hundred years against Spanish imperialism, and during the revolution of 1898-1901 became the first nation in the whole of Asia to establish a modern republic.⁴

As to the geography of the Philippines, if there were any changes at all over those 450 years they were not particularly striking, apart from the conversion of the jungle to cultivated land. Great transformations did take place in instruments of production, the economy, and culture. As a result of these alterations in their environment, the Filipinos themselves also evidently changed significantly.

There is absolutely no difference in appearance between the Filipino peasant and the Menadonese, Bugis, Malay, Batak, Padang, Sundanese, or Javanese peasant. What I mean by appearance here is racial characteristics-build, face shape, the color of skin, eyes, and hair. In this respect the Filipino peasant, from Bigan on the island of Luzon to Bato in Mindanao, is the same as the indigene of Java, Sumatra, Borneo, Sulawesi, or Malaya.

[125] But differences become evident in the cities like Manila, Ho-Ho, and Cebu.⁵ There we find Filipinos with Spanish and Chinese blood running in their veins, who look like mixtures of Indonesians and Dutch or Chinese, but we find these racial mixtures only in the upper levels of the bourgeoisie. Juan and Pedro who work in the docks, rail yards, and machine shops of Manila are no different from Ali and Darmo in Medan or Surabaya.

We can say that the higher we go on the political, social, economic, and cultural ladder, the more we see of yellow and even white skin. And the lower we go on those ladders, the more the color brown predominates, the color of most of Indonesia’s original inhabitants. The higher we go on the political ladder—from members of the municipal councils to the higher and lower houses of the legislature, and from local mayors to the president-the more we see mestizos, descendants of the three mixed races. The same is true in business, such as plantation agriculture, manufacturing, and shipping. The exception is in the field of culture, where, if I am not mistaken, we see brown skin just as often as white or yellow. The high position held by the mestizos was a result of the political revolution in the Philippines, which, viewed even from the political angle, let alone the economic one, was a failure.

Almost 100 percent of the Veterano, the former revolutionary fighters of 1898-1901 who struggled first against the Spanish and then against the Americans, consisted of indigenous Indonesians. A revolutionary veteran who knew him told me that the father of the revolution, Andres Bonifacio, was an indigenous Indonesian from Tondo on the outskirts of Manila. The revolutionary president, Aguinaldo, the famous minister of foreign affairs, Mabini, and, finally, the “father of the Philippines,” Jose Rizal, were all indigenous Indonesians who had little if any mixed blood.⁶ The Philippine revolution was a revolution of the workers and peasants under the leadership of a truly revolutionary section of the intelligentsia.

[125] But with the capture of President Aguinaldo by the Americans, the leadership of the revolution fell apart and the guerrilla war could not be maintained. Aguinaldo took an oath before the Americans, swearing to withdraw from politics as long as the Philippines were under American rule (1901-1946).⁷ Mabini, paralyzed but still unwilling to collaborate with the Americans, was exiled to Guam and died there, together with many of his comrades who would not make peace with America.⁸ Some guerrilla generals, such as Ricarte, were able to escape to Japan and to stay there until the Philippines surrendered to Japan.⁹ Andres Bonifacio, the first to unfurl the flag of freedom and to attack the Spanish troops, was murdered, supposedly by Aguinaldo’s soldiers, during the revolution.

So you can see that those who were the most prominent in the revolution did not take part in the American administration afterwards. And those in the front lines, particularly the ordinary fighters, were mostly indigenous Indonesians.

Because under Spanish rule the children of rich Spaniards and Chinese formed the majority of those attending secondary and tertiary schools in the Philippines, it was in the main they who were used by American imperialism to “develop the Philippines.” Thus, nearly all Philippine administrative offices were staffed by mestizos who became American subjects and willingly cooperated with American imperialism. Likewise, nearly all the mestizo-owned plantations, factories, shipping lines, and stores (including those bought by mestizos during and after the revolution) were left intact, while many of the peasant-soldiers returned from the battlefield to find their land sold or mortgaged. As the people of Jakarta say: the master eats the jack-fruit, and I get the sap.¹⁰

It would not be accurate to say that the mestizos consciously manipulated the native people in order to topple Spanish imperialism, only to lead them under the rule of American imperialism. In history such a development is but a natural process. Those who are most oppressed—the workers and peasants—form the mass base for the struggle. The workers and peasants chose as their leaders indigenous Filipino intellectuals because they lived directly in their midst and shared the bitterness of foreign oppression.

[127] The oppressors and the oppressed in the Philippines, although of different races, did have much in common. First and foremost they shared a common religion, Christianity, and the culture which developed from that religion in the Philippines. It is this common religion and culture that has blurred or even eliminated the difference of skin color between the indigenous people and the mestizos and that drew the lower classes of the mestizos into the storm of the revolution. This is how a very popular general, such as Luna, could be a mestizo.¹¹ The late President Manuel Quezon was only twenty-four years old at the time of the revolution, but with a bolo (machete) in his hand he was able to reach the rank of major. Dearly loved by his soldiers, he was a genuine mestizo: fifty-fifty Filipino and Spanish blood.¹² Up to the time I was there (1927) the mestizos were not a class apart, distrusted and hated by the indigenous Filipino. On the contrary, the word “mestizo” was not pejorative, but a symbol of a privileged group in Filipino society. In the annual Queen Contest it was the mestizo form and appearance that was used as the measure of beauty. The Indo-Chinese or Indo-Europeans, however slight the Chinese or European blood in their veins, preferred calling themselves mestiza rather than using the name of the race of their father or mother. This all relates to the high position held by the mestizos in the economic, social, and political fields.

It would not be far from the truth to say that the Indo-Europeans and Indo-Chinese in the Philippines during the time of Spanish imperialism were in general far more radical and more integrated with the indigenous people than were the Indo-Europeans and Indo-Chinese in Indonesia. As mentioned above, many of them played an important part in the revolution.

Since they shared language and religion and action during the revolution, it is not surprising that the mestizos in the time of American imperialism entered the administrative offices and even the legislature without opposition from the common people. What conflict there has been with the mestizos (and this has become more evident in recent years) arose from economic and social conflict—that is, the conflict between the Indonesian (indigenous Filipino) workers and the mestizo capitalists. Most of the haciendas, factories (sugar, tobacco, and so forth), and shipping lines were owned by mestizos. But this conflict did not give rise to an anti-mestizo feeling since other mestizos were not exempt from the process of proletarianization.¹³

[128] Even at the height of the revolution the Filipino revolutionaries did not direct their attacks and their slogans against foreigners. There are many stories, some written by American observers, that describe how nearly all the Spanish soldiers held by the Filipinos were well treated and returned to their commanders after being disarmed. Frequently they were even left with their weapons, since the Filipinos fought only with bolos. Not a few Spanish soldiers, after getting to know the Filipinos, felt deceived by their government and regretted their past actions, staying to risk their lives with the Filipinos and refusing to return to Spanish-held areas. But one also hears of executions and torture suffered by the Spanish priests, because they were so hated by the Filipino people. Do not forget that it was the priests who, in the time of Spanish imperialism, possessed most of the property (land, churches, etc.) and political and social power in the Philippines. In essence the Philippine revolution was directed against landholders cloaked in priestly vestments, and not against foreigners themselves or against foreign religion.¹⁴

Agricultural workers, particularly in the Mariquina area—who organized before World War II into the rebel Sakdalista and after the war into the Hukbalahap—continually mounted attacks on the landholders (hacienderos).¹⁵ This only proves that the revolution of 1898-1901, like many before it, did not solve the agrarian problem.

That completes my rough outline of the greatest and most recent Philippine revolution. I feel that now I should fill in the sketch with some detail.

The Filipino pemuda of today have a right to be proud of the three hundred or so rebellions, half of which were of substantial size, carried out by the Filipino people over some four hundred years with the aim of freeing themselves from the shackles of cruel and reactionary Spanish imperialism.¹⁶ I say they have a right to be proud because these continual rebellions were the clearest expression of a spirit that resisted colonization. Naturally we are unable to relate the history of all these revolutions here. Let us just take a few facts from the most recent Philippine revolution, that which aimed to overthrow Spanish and American imperialism (1898-1901).

Inseparable from this revolution is the name “La Liga Filipina” (the Philippine League) and that of its founder, Dr. Jose Rizal. To shorten the story and to make things clearer, it might help if I compare La Liga Filipina with our Studieclub, later to become the PBI (Persatuan Bangsa Indonesia) and still later Parindra. I shall compare Dr. Rizal with Dr. Soetomo, the late Pak Tom.¹⁷

[129] This comparison is only an attempt at brief and quick clarification and is not intended in any way to liken the two organizations or the two men in every respect. It is true that the Philippines and Indonesia have much in common with regard to geography, climate, race, and agriculture. But as regards size, economy, government, and culture, Indonesia of the early twentieth century differed considerably from the Philippines of the end of the nineteenth century.

To begin with, La Liga Filipina, founded by Dr. Rizal in 1894 after his return from Europe, was a Party of Reforms and cooperation. Its aim was to advance the Philippines step by step through reforms in such areas as the economy, agriculture, and education. La Liga Filipina did not reject cooperation with the Spanish government. Perhaps historians will see some point in comparing the program and activity of La Liga Filipina with that of the Studieclub/Parindra. If so, go right ahead and gather all the relevant material from both sides. But La Liga Filipina was never as successful in action as the Studieclub/Parindra. Opposing an imperialism that had the Spanish priest-landlord caste on its side, La Liga Filipina, right from its inception, was distrusted and attacked by the Catholic hierarchy up to the time of its banning.¹⁸

The founder, Jose Rizal, like the founder of the Studieclub and Parindra, Pak Tom, was a doctor. And aside from sharing the title Dr., they were both brilliant men. We all know of Pak Tom’s brilliance in the field of medicine, but we know little of Dr. Rizal’s skill in this field. After receiving the title of Dr. from the University of Madrid, he visited the Universities of Paris and Berlin, where he was also accorded honors. It is possible that the well-known story of Dr. Rizal’s treatment of a young German girl who could not be helped by German doctors may be a little exaggerated (I myself cannot vouch for its authenticity).¹⁹ But whatever the case, Dr. Rizal was very popular in the Philippines, and his fame spread as far as China. When he was in exile in Dapitan, Mindanao, he was visited by the French consul in Hong Kong, accompanied by his daughter. The consul had an eye disease which many different doctors had failed to cure. He had been unable to see for some time and had to be led everywhere by his daughter. In Dapitan his eyesight was restored, but he lost his only child. His daughter became the admirer and lover of the quiet, exiled doctor and, on receiving her father’s permission, became his life-long companion, joining the guerrilla struggle after her husband had been executed. This is a popular tale in the Philippines.²⁰

[130] And as to intellect, after studying irrigation for a while, Dr. Rizal was able to set up a water supply system using only simple equipment to solve the problems of uncleanliness and shortage of water which he had observed during his exile in Dapitan. This effort was greatly appreciated even by the Spanish government. And in addition to wiping out illiteracy among the local children, whom Dr. Rizal loved to the bottom of his heart, he began to study scientifically all the local plant and animal life on both sea and land. To his close friend Professor Blumentritt in Vienna (?) he sent many plants and animals which were as yet unknown to experts and they were given the name Rizalia.²¹ As an illustrator and sculptor, Dr. Rizal was awarded a prize at an exhibition held in Paris. He knew and could speak no fewer than thirteen languages.²² As a writer of two novels, Noli me tangere and El filibusterismo, he is regarded as a prophet of the revolution by his people, but as a deadly enemy by the priestly caste.²³ The poem he wrote only hours before his execution is still regarded as a priceless inheritance by the appreciative masses.²⁴

And in honesty to their principles and to the people, Rizal and Pak Tom have much in common. They were both aware of the particular importance of education and economic improvements for the people. To this end they each considered it important to cooperate with the foreign government in power in their country. It is my opinion that whatever a person’s own political position, one can respect leaders who are honest and consistent in their own principles and who work diligently with and for the people on the basis of those principles.

Pak Tom did not have his faith put to the test, but Dr. Rizal passed the test and gave up his own life for his views with a calmness and a determination unsurpassed by anyone of any nation at any time. Dr. Rizal can be criticized only for his excesses: he was too principled and too honest in confronting enemies who exhibited the morals and actions of snakes in the grass.²⁵

He was the son of a middle peasant in the village of Calamba on the island of Luzon, raised in a society and family that practiced Catholicism, the religion honored by the common people in their daily life.²⁶ Rizal, the doctor and founder of the Philippine republic, who was castigated by the priests as an atheist, was in fact a steel-willed person of principle who spoke according to his beliefs and acted according to his words.

[131] But measured on the revolutionary scale, Dr. Rizal was no Marx or Lenin, nor even comparable to his colleague on the banks of the Pearl River, Dr. Sun Yat-sen. A man of great intellect in many fields, a writer able to penetrate the consciousness of the masses, he nevertheless did not turn his powers to the situation, character, aims, and forces of the revolutionary movement. For Dr. Rizal, independence was contingent on the number of intellectuals and literates in the Philippines, on the strength of the colony’s industry, agriculture, and trade, and above all on the arms held by the masses for the seizure of power. It was beyond his ken that the dynamic of the revolution could give rise to unimagined forces, could confront arms superior in number and power, and could generate a real spirit everywhere, provided that the force of the masses had previously been gauged, awakened, and coordinated by an honest, aware, and disciplined leadership. His lack of contact with the masses (caused partly by the fact that he was always watched carefully by the government and the Spanish priests) meant that experience did not open his eyes to these possibilities. Dr. Rizal remained an intellectual in relative isolation from the masses.²⁷

This was shown clearly during his exile in Dapitan.²⁸ Given the authorities’ suspicion of La Liga Filipina and the exile of Dr. Rizal, the remaining leaders were averse to continuing open actions, even those of a mild nature. The secretary of La Liga Filipina appraised the situation and began to work underground. This secretary was Andres Bonifacio, famous in revolutionary history as the founder of the secret society Katipunan (the acronym for the name of an organization that had the appearance of a sort of Free Mason society but that actually united genuine revolutionaries).²⁹ Andres Bonifacio came from a working-class family in Tondo on the outskirts of Manila and was the graduate of a primary school. As a lowly clerk in a store in Manila, he worked backbreakingly hard to support his many younger siblings. His school for learning about organization was La Liga Filipina, and he learned about society, politics, and revolution from reading books in his spare time. When the revolution broke out, police raided his house and seized several books on the French Revolution.

[132] After Rizal’s departure, Bonifacio appears to have worked actively in the underground. When he felt strong enough he sent several representatives to Dapitan to meet their leader, whom he regarded as his teacher.

So it was that one day several people arrived in Dapitan. With them they brought a “blind” person seeking treatment from Dr. Rizal. The young Spanish officer who guarded Rizal, and who had become his admirer, allowed the “blind” person and a couple of his friends to go in. But in the examination room, before receiving any treatment, the “blind” person suddenly opened his eyes and engaged the doctor in a discussion of the revolution. He had brought greetings and a message from Andres Bonifacio, secretary of La Liga Filipina. Andres considered that the time had come to unfurl the flag in independence, with Dr. Rizal as the leader of the revolution. Andres was ready, on receipt of Rizal’s approval, to attack Dapitan and effect his rescue.³⁰

Dr. Rizal, an intellectual of international and universal stature, was astonished, and he rejected the proposal from Andres Bonifacio in no uncertain terms. His most important objection to the plan was the masses’ lack of arms.³¹

In fact, this weakness is one shared by all rebellious oppressed nations and classes from the time of Moses to the present day, including the French Revolution, the Russian Revolution, and the present Indonesian revolution of 17 August 1945. There has never been an oppressed and exploited nation or caste whose arms have exceeded or even equalled those of the caste that oppressed it. You do not have to have an intellect of international caliber to see this. If a nation or caste could equal, let alone exceed, its enemy in possession of arms then it would not be oppressed. Neither equality nor superiority can be attained before the revolution, but only during or after it, if it is a real social and economic or national revolution organized in a disciplined fashion.

The “blind” person, now more open-eyed than the sighted, was absolutely amazed to hear this answer from Dr. Rizal. Upon hearing the answer, Andres Bonifacio, the worker from Tondo, graduate of the primary school, bitterly exclaimed “Lintik! [Heavens!] Where on earth did Dr. Rizal read that?” His remark did not, however, imply loss of respect and love for the person he regarded as his teacher in everything, as we shall see later in this story.³²

[133] After the Spanish-American War broke out, Dr. Rizal offered to go to Cuba as a Red Cross doctor. His offer was accepted by the Spanish government and he left for Cuba. The priests in the Philippines attacked the government on this decision, however, and he was recalled. In Hong Kong he was met by his younger sister Eleonara (?).³³ In Manila harbor the secret and official police were lying in wait. The conspiring priests had planted a false letter in Eleonara’s purse. This letter was to implicate Dr. Rizal in a secret society that the conspiring priests maintained was linked to him. His younger brother was tortured to unconsciousness twice but refused to bear false witness against his brother.³⁴

Rizal was jailed and brought to trial, charged with being a rebel and trying to overthrow the Spanish government. The trial was rigged and stank of fabrication from beginning to end. Dr. Rizal had been arrested in order to be sentenced, and in essence was sentenced even before being tried. He was sentenced to be executed by a firing squad.

On his last night he was visited by his mother and his younger sister. His famous poem, “My Last Farewell,” which was to become a national inheritance, had been hidden in an oil lamp. “Send this lamp as a memento to my friend Professor Blumentritt,” he said. “There is something inside,” he added in a whisper to his sister. In this way were preserved for Philippine history the emotions of a Filipino hero, thinker, and man of wisdom, about to leave everything he had loved through his thirty-six-year life to face the bullets of Spanish imperialism with calmness and composure.³⁵

At dawn Dr. Rizal was awakened and led to Bagumbayan field to be shot and displayed to the crowds of Spaniards and Filipinos. The edge of the field was filled with Spanish women and dignitaries, happy to see the destruction of a native son with the courage to oppose the power of Spain.

Jose Rizal walked out with a firm step. The air was still cool, and the dew wet his face for the last time. “How beautiful this morning is,” said Rizal. “My child,” replied a priest walking on his right, “it would be even more beautiful if . . .” The good-hearted priest could not finish his sentence because the official guards whisked him away from Rizal’s side.

[134] The firing squad was ready. The front line, which was to fire, consisted of Filipinos. Behind them stood a line of Spanish soldiers, just in case the native soldiers refused to shoot a leader of their people.

Dr. Rizal protested to the commandant, who wanted him bound and shot in the back. “I am not a traitor,” said Dr Rizal. “I am only following orders,” answered the officer. “If that’s the case then just don’t let me be shot in the head,” said Rizal. The officer granted this request.

How calmly the Filipino hero stood in the center of the field, as if opposing the power of Spain with his attitude: “My body may be destroyed, but my spirit will live on. And this destruction of my body will bring about the destruction of Spanish power in the Philippines.” A Spanish doctor was amazed at his colleague’s calmness and asked permission of the commandant to examine the pulse of the Filipino doctor who was facing death. He shook his head in astonishment when he found that the pulse rate was normal.

Jose Rizal was facing death. A volley of shots rang out. As the Filipino hero dropped, he was seen to be struggling to fall as he wanted. He succeeded and lay with his unscathed face to the sky. So fell the noble Filipino fighter in 1896. In appreciation and respect, his people have built a monument to him at his place of death, and this place of tragedy is now called the Luneta Square.³⁶

Among those watching was someone who was not known to the crowds but who was to be remembered in history. With his bolo at his waist, Andres Bonifacio, former secretary of La Liga Filipina and now leader of the Katipunan, awaited the moment to attack in order to free his teacher and comrade-in-arms from the jaws of death. But the group with him had long been prepared to thwart this hopeless idea. They were awaiting a better moment to attack, to strike out in unison with a single blow. With tears streaming down his face, his teeth chattering, and his bolo still hidden in his sarong, Andres followed the advice of his followers and watched helplessly as his teacher and comrade-in-arms fell to the earth.³⁷

[135] His bolo was not to stay hidden in his sarong for long. When he felt the moment was right, he drew it out and, with a small but courageous band, attacked the Spanish fort at Balintawak on the outskirts of Manila in 1898 (?).³⁸ Clearly he chose the right moment. Throughout the island of Luzon, flanked by the other islands of the Philippines, the independence flag fluttered in answer to the cry of Andres Bonifacio, the leader of the Katipunan: “Citizens of our nation, the hour of our final hope is at last upon us!”³⁹

Everywhere guerrilla groups sprang up. In almost all fields of battle the Spanish troops retreated or surrendered. The Filipino officers carried out all kinds of guerrilla strategies that amazed the whole world. Take a look at the European and American newspapers of that time: the world was completely taken aback by the skill, astuteness, and valor of this tiny unheard-of nation in the Pacific, now making itself known with a clear, ringing cry in the fight against a powerful empire. The names of the fighting units, and commanders like Generals Luna, Malvar, and Ricarte,⁴⁰ echoed throughout the cities and villages of the Philippine Islands.⁴¹ Above all resounded the name of General Aguinaldo, the former village school teacher: adroit, sharp, and ignorant of the word defeat, a supreme guerrilla strategist.

Finally the Spanish army was driven from every corner of the islands except the capital city of Manila. At that precise moment the American armada sailed into the port of Manila to intervene. When their imperialist aims became clear, the Filipino people turned their fighting units against the modern American army. For about a year the bitter struggle raged on under the leadership of Aguinaldo.⁴²

During the two- or three-year war of independence fought against two rich and powerful nations with a wealth of arms and military experience, much went on among the rebels themselves. Differences arose that gradually hardened into conflict and finally into enmity. The differences between Aguinaldo and Bonifacio ended in the murder of Bonifacio, while those between Aguinaldo and Mabini caused Mabini to break off relations.⁴³

In the Philippines this conflict and enmity generally is interpreted as stemming from personal differences alone. But I believe they developed from a difference of intentions between the various classes in the struggle, as represented by Aguinaldo, Mabini, and Bonifacio.

[136] This is only my own opinion. Filipino historians are not clear on this point or have not turned their attention to this interpretation. I have not been able to obtain complete data on which classes were the main supporters of the various leaders. There is a possibility that Aguinaldo had his base—at the end if not from the beginning of the revolution—primarily among the Filipino rich peasants and bourgeoisie. Mabini represented the radical democratic intelligentsia and a section of the common people, while Bonifacio appears to have represented the murba of the cities and villages.⁴⁴

In the midst of the revolution the star of Bonifacio—the founder of the Katipunan and the one who began the revolution—remained high, protected by Aguinaldo’s stunning successes on the battlefield. It’s not that Bonifacio was any less willing to fight or less brave, but Aguinaldo was the one who really understood the strategy of guerrilla war, just as Bonifacio was the one who held in his hand the strategy of party building and revolutionary politics. How much better it would have been had the rebels been able to unite and place party and political matters under Bonifacio and military matters under Aguinaldo, thus coordinating the entire revolution. Such organizational, political, and military coordination was impossible, however, as Filipino society had not yet developed the necessary experience and consciousness. Further, the cruel and powerful Spanish imperialism had not permitted the growth of strong organization and action in underground work. Revolutionaries had been forced to work in small groups, particularly in the cities, and were not able to have much contact with each other.

[137] At one conference Aguinaldo was chosen as president and Mabini as minister of foreign affairs. Representation at the conference did not reflect the real balance of forces between Aguinaldo and Bonifacio. It could be said that Bonifacio’s group was represented only by Bonifacio himself, who had been trapped into attendance. Bonifacio, who came with no preparation for what was to occur, was given the title of director of one of the government departments and was insulted as an ignoramus. He felt not only deceived by this fabricated election of Aguinaldo’s, but also humiliated. He made his offended feelings known and angrily left the “elections” for home.⁴⁵

On the way he was overtaken by one of Aguinaldo’s units. Aguinaldo apparently realized that if Bonifacio were to organize opposition to him, Aguinaldo’s victory could not be assured or that if it did come it would not be as easy as in his recent conference. For this reason Bonifacio had to be betrayed and stabbed in the back before he could make preparations. Such an attitude is not uncommon among leaders filled with the desire to be great but lacking good character and intelligence. In the fight along the way, Bonifacio, aided only by his younger brother, met his end as a hero. Aguinaldo lived on. Although the history books do not tell it quite like that, the above is how the people tell Bonifacio’s story.

So it was that the teacher and his pupil, the president and the secretary of La Liga Filipina-Rizal and Bonifacio—both died tragically at a young age. But there was a difference: Jose Rizal was executed by the oppressors of his nation for everyone to see, while Andres Bonifacio was murdered by his own people, his comrades in the struggle against foreign power. Jose Rizal represented the Filipino middle class and intelligentsia while Andres Bonifacio represented the common people.

This difference is evident in the treatment accorded the anniversaries of the deaths of these two Filipino heros. On the anniversary of Rizal’s death (31 December) we see the modern upper class commemorating the occasion in speeches and songs filled with sorrow and appreciation. The anniversary of Andres Bonifacio’s death on 30 November is marked, especially on the street corners of poor neighborhoods in Manila, by the fiery speeches of the people, who raise their clenched fists, as if pledging to continue his work cut short by political assassination.⁴⁶

[138] Of course a revolution does not outlaw killing, and there are those who can be killed without serious consequences for the revolution itself. But the revolution must not kill the groups or leaders that have been its driving force. This stricture is even more important when the aims of the revolution have not yet been achieved. The admonition “thou shalt not kill” must be seen from two different angles, internal and external, subjective and objective. Subjectively, although the aims of the slain revolutionary leaders will sooner or later be taken up by their followers, it is the leaders in the front lines of the struggle who determine its course. Not only will the revolution have lost its most radical force, but the moderates who inflicted the blow will also be weakened. If the two groups are of approximately equal strength, the revolution will devour its own children and soon collapse. Even if the moderates win the struggle in their ranks, the whole revolution will have lost its most valuable force, and it will be easy for the reactionaries to triumph in the end. A revolution will not stop in the middle: it will devolve upon either the radicals or the reactionaries.

This final point was made clear in the Philippine revolution after the Bonifacio affair. It may have been because he felt unable to stand up militarily to the Americans, or because of pressure from the Filipino bourgeoisie, who desired peace, or even a combination of these two possibilities, but President Aguinaldo was for some time engaged in (secret?) contacts with the Americans and was prepared to accept less than 100 percent independence for the Philippines.⁴⁷

Mabini, who as a lawyer was able to bamboozle the American admiral in debates on independence and international law, had long been afraid of this.⁴⁸ He was firmly in favor of holding out for 100 percent independence, but perhaps because he was new to the revolutionary arena or because of his ill health, Foreign Minister Mabini, the “sublime paralytic,” was unable to spread his views or his own influence among the masses.⁴⁹ When the news broke that Aguinaldo wanted to make peace on the basis of a treaty that was destructive of an independent Philippines, Mabini, as minister of foreign affairs, stated that such a peace treaty was the responsibility of Aguinaldo alone—that it was made without the agreement of the minister of foreign affairs, let alone of the people. Such was Mabini.

[139] When he heard the news that Aguinaldo had been deceived and arrested by an American military force, the “sublime paralytic” went everywhere trying to fan the spirit of the guerrilla forces and leaders to continue the struggle.⁵⁰ When he was captured, Mabini, wearing peasant clothes, was meeting with other guerrilla leaders in a peasant’s house. American troops surrounded them. The American commander barked out an order: “Everyone in the house stand up.” The one who could not stand was the “sublime paralytic,” the first minister of foreign affairs of the Philippines. He was quickly recognized and captured.⁵¹

Aguinaldo, the president of the Philippine revolution, who was then (1901) only thirty years old, swore an oath to the American government that he would not involve himself in politics as long as the American flag flew over the Philippines. With a large annual subsidy, the first president of the first republic to arise in Asia lives peacefully with thousands of other veterans of the revolution who are permitted by the Americans to celebrate the revolution’s anniversary each year.⁵²

Mabini, with his hundreds of comrades who refused to pledge allegiance to the American flag, was exiled to the island of Guam, at that time filled with infectious diseases. He died there.⁵³

In the peace negotiations in Paris between Spain and America, the Philippines were crushed in the coils of diplomacy and sold by Spain to America, to become an “American Protectorate,” another name for colony.⁵⁴ This was the tragic end of the republic that so amazed the world at the end of the nineteenth century—the first in Asia or Africa and established by one of the Indonesian peoples.

Evidently Philippine society at that time was not yet able to divide and coordinate the work as follows: the organization of the revolution under Bonifacio, state and military affairs under Aguinaldo, and foreign affairs under Mabini. The Philippine national and social revolution was not carried through; America became its “protector,” and the landlords went unchecked.

American imperialism immediately instituted changes in all fields. Jose Rizal was commemorated, and his program was implemented. This was not done out of altruism, but because it accorded with the interests of modern American capitalism, and also because Uncle Sam recognized the strength of the Philippine bolo on the field of battle.⁵⁵

[140] First Uncle Sam attacked the anopheles mosquito that raged everywhere. Advances were made in the sphere of public health; the birth rate increased while the death rate declined, and the population of the Philippines rose from six million at the end of the last century to sixteen (?) million today.⁵⁶ The Spanish government had paid more attention to education than the Dutch did in Indonesia. When the Spaniards left the Philippines, Santa Tomas University had long been established, while for all the inlanders of the Dutch East Indies there were only the Inlandsche Kweekschool [Native Teachers’ Training School] and the School tot Opleiding voor Inlandsche Bestuursambtenaren [Training School for Native Civil Servants] that could be considered institutes of higher learning.⁵⁷ But in spite of the advances the Spaniards had made when Uncle Sam arrived, illiteracy in the Philippines was widespread. America wiped it out through an organized plan of action: the number of universities was increased to five, and secondary schools, technical and trade schools were established throughout the Philippines.⁵⁸ The standard of living was raised by increasing the wages of workers. A porter at the wharves in Manila could earn about three pesos a day (one peso = f. 0.85), while the workers at the cigar factories in Manila could earn three to six pesos a day. In nearly all cities, small and large, and even in many villages, one could see modern schools, hospitals, and electrical plants. Many of the sugar, cigar, hemp, and inter-island domestic shipping concerns were in the hands of Filipinos themselves. Even the railways were Filipino-owned.⁵⁹

In 1915 (?) a bicameral legislature was instituted in the Philippines.⁶⁰ There was not one American seated in either house, and nearly all administrative functions were in the hands of Filipinos. As in education, so also in the administration: each year the number of American advisers and heads was decreased according to plan, and the number of Filipinos in charge increased. It can be said that the Filipino people held internal power. According to John’s Law, when the Filipino people were capable of maintaining a stable government, full independence would be granted to them by America.⁶¹

But we must not look only at the good, at the real progress made in education, social welfare, justice, and standard of living, and politics, economics, and culture. The semi-victorious revolution of 1898-1901 was not able to eliminate all evils, and remnants of the ills suffered under Spanish rule continue to affect Philippine society to this day.

[141] The power of the large landholders at the time of the revolution was not diminished under American rule.⁶² In several areas of Luzon island, and in the Visayan provinces, the situation of the rural proletariat was extremely depressing. The conflict between landholders and poverty-stricken peasants in those areas was not alleviated. Wage increases accorded by American imperialism were accompanied by increases in the cost of living. Neither the House of Representatives nor the Senate, whose members were principally landholders and members of the bourgeoisie, wanted or were able to put an end to the unrest there. The workers and peasants were unable to win seats in the Congress and, just as in America itself, Philippine democracy functioned only for the wealthy.

While in domestic matters the Filipinos really did have some power, they had no authority at all in external affairs. Every channel to the outside world—trade, diplomacy, defense, immigration, and finance—was controlled by the Americans through the governor general in Manila. The capitalist system, which appeared liberal when viewed superficially, resulted in the channeling of Philippine products into the American market, which was open to them whether they were owned by Filipinos, Chinese, or Americans. Products such as tobacco, sugar, and hemp were able to compete with American goods since Filipino workers were paid less than their American counterparts, either in America proper or in Hawaii and Cuba. But Philippine goods would not have been able to compete with Indonesian goods on the Chinese market, for example. The wages earned by Filipino workers were, on the average, higher than those received by Indonesian workers, and so the cost-price of Philippine tobacco, sugar, or hemp was higher than that for comparable goods from Indonesia. For this reason, Philippine products were tied to the American market, which was open to exports from its protectorate but which imposed heavy import duties on goods from other countries.

[142] A result of the tying of Philippine exports to the American market was that, in order to establish a balance of trade, the Philippines was compelled to import American goods such as machinery, autos, pharmaceuticals, and electrical equipment. And this meant, first, that American banks and transport enterprises had a monopoly of Philippine goods directed toward the Philippine market, giving a complete monopoly of Philippine export and import trade to American bankers and traders.⁶³ A second result of this arrangement was that such industries as machinery, chemicals, and electrical equipment could not develop in the Philippines. Although it is said that its iron resources exceed those of China or India in both quantity and quality and that other minerals to form alloys (nickel, gronium, bauxite for aluminum and so on) are plentiful, heavy industry has not yet been able to appear in the Philippines.⁶⁴ Industry is nipped in the bud and never develops to the stage of steel and heavy industry.⁶⁵ The University of the Philippines is capable only of churning out thousands of lawyers (abogado) who, due to their excess number, are forced to work as horse-and-cart drivers (cuchero). The third result of the economic ties forced onto the Philippines by Uncle Sam over a period of fifty years is that the “political independence” later granted as a mark of American “goodwill” is an empty independence, filled by the Americans with loans and atom-bomb bases, supposedly to protect the independence of the Philippines.⁶⁶

The iron hand of Spain produced people of steel like Rizal, Bonifacio, and Mabini, who were able to bring about the destruction of Spanish imperialism. But the rubber hand of American imperialism produced leaders who, even if let fall by their makers, will bounce right back into their hands. The Philippines, whose independence was proclaimed by America in 1946, was forced to accept money and atom bombs from America immediately after it became independent.

The above picture was drawn from my impressions of some twenty years ago, when I was fortunate enough to obtain information from young and old. But it is clear that the picture does not have its finishing touch, has many weaknesses, and could be improved here and there. I shall leave that task to future historians who shall have more opportunities and more definite information.

I have forgotten to state what pushed me into going to the Philippines in the first place. It was the climate, which I hoped would restore my health. Finally, with treatment from doctors and the aid of the climate, my health was partially restored. However, a call from the movement in South Indonesia caused me to cut short my efforts to regain my health completely.

[143] At first I intended to give only a brief outline of what forced me to go to Singapore in spite of my continued ill health. Because of the slanders being broadcast right and left, and the back-stabbing being engaged in by several people, including Alimin, I am forced to add a little (?) to previous explanations.⁶⁷ As before, I shall only be defending myself. I consider that all persons, even those in jail, have the right to combat slander. As the proverb goes: “Words should be answered and blows returned.”⁶⁸ I hope, then, that I shall not exceed my intention of adding this explanation solely in order to defend myself and repulse the slander and lies being spread behind my back.

After being in Manila several months, I received a letter from Alimin, who asked me to help him come to the Philippines. He felt that the Dutch were about to arrest him. He wanted to stay with me and deepen his knowledge, and I was happy at the thought of living with him. I had met him on two occasions since I had been exiled, and I was looking forward to this third time since I knew he was sociable and cheerful and that he had considerable experience in the (Sarekat Islam) movement.⁶⁹ I discussed this question with friends in the Philippines so that we could make the appropriate secret arrangements. Remember that I myself was living illegally in the Philippines and might have been arrested at any moment.

In short, Alimin finally arrived safely in the Philippines and was able to stay with friends of mine. After some time the first letter arrived from Singapore, calling me back to assist in obtaining “equipment” in connection with the Prambanan decision.⁷⁰

I considered that decision to be incorrect for the following reasons:

1. It was taken hurriedly, without careful consideration;

2. It resulted from provocation by our enemies and did not correspond to our own strength;

3. It could not be defended either to the masses or to the Comintern;

4. It did not correspond to communist strategy and tactics, that is, mass action;

5. It would result in great harm being done to the movement in Indonesia.

[144] I showed the letter to Alimin, asking: “Is it true or not that the masses are ready?” He answered: “At most only the masses of Bekasi will come out.” That was indeed the case. Alimin himself had just witnessed the failure of the Semarang strike, which—apart from spreading for a brief moment to the ironworks in Surabaya—had been limited to the printing workers, the ferry-boat operators, and the nurses in Semarang.⁷¹ As for the half million sugar workers and peasants, the workers at the tea, coffee, quinine, rubber, fiber, and other plantations, the coal, cement, tin, and oil workers as well as those in the railways, tramways, shipping, and auto transport, they were all as yet unorganized and still quiescent. In terms of organization, discipline, and politics, they had no weight at all.

From Manila I proposed that the Prambanan decision be rediscussed in Singapore by a more complete group of leaders. I considered that I had to do this, because of my responsibilities to the Comintern. If the decision were reaffirmed, then at least I had discharged my obligations and, as a section of the Comintern, the PKI could not simply ignore my proposal.⁷²

Singapore apparently did not really understand me and sent several more letters asking me to come. Finally, in the printing workers’ building in Manila, Alimin proposed that he be authorized to go to Singapore to make the arrangements for a conference such as I had proposed.⁷³ He believed that he would be able to call together the responsible comrades while I continued my treatment in Manila. When everything was ready, he would send word from Singapore for me to come.

We worked out a code: what he would say if they agreed with the proposal, if they disagreed, or if they were undecided. In addition I wrote a short sketch of what I considered the situation in Indonesia to be and the strategy and tactics I proposed. Alimin himself typed it all—the code, the analysis, and my proposals.

My analysis was in accordance with what I had written in Thesis.⁷⁴ Briefly, it included such points as the following:

1. The party was not yet disciplined;

2. The workers and peasants were insufficiently organized;

3. The masses and the other parties (Budi Utomo, NIP, Sarekat Islam, Perserikatan Minahasa, etc.) were not yet close to the PKI;⁷⁵

4. The imperialist world outside Indonesia (Britain, France, and America) was still strong and united.

My proposals were in line with what I had written two years earlier (1923) in Naar de ‘Republiek Indonesia’ [Towards the Republic of Indonesia], with what I had recently written in Semangat moeda [Young spirit], and with what I was to write and have printed hurriedly in Singapore under the title of Massa actie [Mass action].

In brief, I proposed to achieve an independent Indonesia through mass action. And the development of this mass action, if all conditions were right, would be approximately along the following lines:

1. General strike with economic demands;

2. Strikes and demonstrations with economic and political demands;

3. General strike and demonstrations employing arms to oppose provocation;

4. General strike and demonstrations demanding the transfer of power;

5. Establishment of a National Assembly;

6. Proclamation of independence and the establishment of a provisional government;

7. Drawing up of a constitution;

8. Ratification of the government, ratification or alteration of the constitution, and establishment of the outlines of political policy;

9. Establishment of a popular legislature to make laws. (Of course in practice the course taken may vary from this pattern.)

From the general strike to the establishment of the popular legislature many different demands have to be posed and actions staged. Only when it is clear that every single demand has been achieved by the murba can the final blow be struck.

Is it not clear that all this requires a superior and disciplined party with members in sufficient quantity and quality to give leadership to the seventy million people who are scattered throughout hundreds of islands and who will be opposed by the three largest imperialist powers in the region? Is it not demonstrable that in 1926 the Indonesian workers and peasants were not even ready to stage a general strike? How many of the PKI leaders in 1926 really understood the meaning of the demands and program to be put forward at each stage of the struggle waged by a real proletarian party?⁷⁶

Of course in 1926, and even in 1917, I was ready to welcome the Indonesian revolution.⁷⁷ The question is, were the masses and proletariat of Indonesia also ready? This is the most crucial question. Where they are not yet ready, the only course open to a courageous leader responsible to him- or herself and to the masses is to prepare them for mass action. If it cannot be done openly, then the underground road must be taken. When the people are ready, it is the mass action course that a Communist party must take.

[146] If there are other parties, or members of other parties who follow another course, certainly I have no objections. But I, feeling responsible to the PKI, to the people of Indonesia, and to the International, could not approve the Prambanan decision: neither back then in 1926 nor here and now in 1947. No. Even now I will not diverge from my analysis laid out in the books mentioned above, which I had outlined prior to the [proposed] Singapore conference and which was agreed to, typed up, and taken by Alimin from Manila to Singapore at the beginning of 1926.

For over a month in Manila I awaited the cable that Alimin was to send with the results of the discussions. Not even a letter came, let alone a cable. Then I began to wonder if my proposal had been presented. Only then did I send to the Comintern a report of the Prambanan decision and my attitude opposing it. From a reliable source I later heard that my position was approved in its entirety and that the Comintern later proposed a program to the PKI that did not differ from my own.⁷⁸

After Alimin had been gone nearly two months, a letter finally arrived. In it he reported that the discussion could not be held in Singapore. Perhaps he would join the group going to Moscow, if there were sufficient money. He said he could not write any further since there was always a comrade at his side (whose name I cannot yet disclose).⁷⁹ Apparently Alimin did not trust this comrade. Only then did I begin to be aware of what sort of honesty he had shown me. I had always thought of him as honest and respected him, but now he would no longer be a comrade-in-arms for me. If he did not trust his lifelong friend in Singapore, how could he trust me, whom he had known barely a year? This feeling was strengthened when I recalled Alimin’s testimony against his former leader Tjokroaminoto in the Afdeling B case.⁸⁰ Since this affair, I have continued to regard Alimin as a friend but as a comrade-in-arms I have doubted his honesty.

[147] When I later arrived in Singapore, Subakat came across a sealed letter that had never been opened. Inside it were my analysis and proposals. The late Subakat and the late Sugono had heard nothing of either my analysis or my proposals brought by Alimin. Alimin had already left Singapore. Sugono, then head of the VSTP, said to Subakat that the VSTP itself was not even ready for a general strike, let alone the two or three million unorganized factory, mine, and plantation workers. So it seems that if Subakat and Sugono, who were both old Communists together with Darsono and Semaun (while Alimin had only recently joined the PKI), had had the opportunity to read my opinion they would certainly have agreed.

So much for an explanation of Alimin’s attitude towards me at a time when the party was endangered. To Alimin, who had admitted my “weaknesses” in his book Analysis, I address the following question: Can a revolutionary party survive if its members are not honest with each other?

As I have stated, then, it was the interests of the Indonesian movement, and specifically Alimin’s attitude towards me, that forced me to leave for Singapore in a great rush. I was forced to leave in a state of poor health, and for this reason I needed something that I have needed more than once on my travels. Previously this was a secret, but with the elimination of the office of the governor general in the Philippines and the takeover of the office by the Filipino people themselves, the secret has been let out. In brief, what I needed was a passport, but it had to be a good false passport: good in the sense that the paper and stamps were authentic, but false because the bearer would not really be a Filipino. What else could I do? In opposing imperialism, which is not based on honesty, one cannot always use honest methods, particularly when aiming to destroy that imperialism.

It was not easy to get a passport at the governor general’s office. One needed all kinds of testimony and assurances and trickery to thwart the screening. In the end I got one, after a high-ranking Filipino official gave his surety.⁸¹

[148] So finally a German ship that docked in Singapore in early 1926 had as a passenger one Hasan Gozali, who came from Mindanao in the Philippines. Unfortunately, or, rather, amusingly, the English passport inspector and his Malay assistant were the same ones who had not long before examined the documents of one Estahislau Rivera.⁸² Hasan Gozali and Estahislau Rivera were one and the same person. However, the similarity of the person and the difference in names did not seem to catch the attention of these officials. It was not only on these two occasions that such a discrepancy escaped the notice of the passport inspectors. In fact, the regulation of passports had many weaknesses. For someone who was calm and patient, not easily prone to give up hope and not easily taken off guard, the passport regulations were by no means insurmountable. In any event, Hasan Gozali, this writer himself, arrived safely at his destination.⁸³