El Filibusterismo

“When fire heats it up, when little streams that at this point are found divided in small pools are pressed by a newfound destiny, they will come together in a deep abyss that men are now carving out.”

Isagani and Basilio speak with Simoun below deck on the steamship. Simoun has invited the two for beer, which they refuse. The ensuing discussion turns to politics, a favorite topic of Isagani’s, and Isagani uses water as a symbol and metaphor to describe the Filipino people.

“It was the type of struggle never before seen in the Filipino universe: a poor,

ignorant, friendless indio, convinced of his rights and the justice of his cause, fighting a highly powerful body before which justice bowed its head and judges dropped their scales and took up the sword.”

An important aspect of Cabesang Tales’s story is to illustrate the inherent toughness of the Filipino people. While a strong individual, Tales is used to represent what any person could accomplish if they work hard enough (and have some luck). However, he also represents everything that can go wrong. In other words, Tales is a character with whom many Filipino readers should be able to identify, and thus, he is a call to resistance in the face of overt abuse and corruption.

“They went to these schools not to learn or study, but to graduate, and if one could learn the book by heart, what more do they want? At least they would pass the grade.”

The treatment of education in the Philippines at the time the novel is set is especially important to José Rizal. One of the greatest indictments against the education system is its limited pedagogy. For example, Isagani is a bright and courageous student who learns in spite of the system, but is well aware of its pitfalls (its emphasis on memorization over comprehension, racism, and Spanish jingoism).

“Go ahead, ask for equal rights and the Hispanization of your customs and see what you’ll get: the death of your nationality, the annihilation of your homeland, and the consecration of tyranny.”

Simoun speaks with Basilio on his family’s old land where they met 13 years ago. Basilio has recognized Simoun as Juan Crisóstomo Ibarra, and Simoun explains his plans for revenge and revolution. Simoun’s call for reform represents the more aggressive, nationalistic arguments that existed in the Philippines at the time—a call for complete separation from Spain, by violent means if necessary.

“Patriotism can only be a crime in oppressive countries because that’s where

robbery is baptized with a pretty face, but not matter how perfect humanity can make itself, patriotism will always be a virtue in oppressed countries, because it will always mean love of justice, liberty, and dignity itself.”

Simoun provides a paradoxical take on patriotism: Patriotism is a negative characteristic of a people when it supports the oppression of others, but is a positive characteristic when it drives people to seek justice. The novel questions who possesses which form of patriotism and whether or not it’s justified.

“We’re not talking about only teaching Castilian here, we’re talking about a quiet struggle between the students and the University of Santo Tomás. If the students come out ahead, our prestige will go down the tubes. They will claim they have won and will be overjoyed, and the good-bye moral force, good-bye everything. The dike is broken and who will hold youth at bay? If we fall, it’s only the first step in your downfall. After us, the government.”

Father Sibyla comments during a heated discussion about whether or not to allow the creation of a Castilian Academy, a formal institute for the instruction of Spanish. With this argument, Father Sibyla summarizes the clergy’s reasons for intransigence and refusal, as education would disrupt the status quo and leave the clergy with less power over the populace.

“To what end are we always trying to tyrannize the population? In the end they are many and we are few. We need them, they don’t need us.”

At the meeting addressing the establishment of a Castilian Academy, Father Fernandez represents those within the clergy who aren’t opposed to the betterment of the Filipino populace. This is an important juxtaposition that the novel seeks to illustrate not only among the clergy, but within the government.

“You yourself know that a government that denies everything sought from it out of fear and mistrust solely in order to make a show of strength and independence is tyrannical and despotic, and that those tyrannized and enslaved peoples alone then have a duty to no longer make requests at all. The sole responsibility of a people that detests its government is to force that government to relinquish its power.”

Isagani speaks with lawyer Señor Pasta, who tries to appeal to both sides of the Castilian Academy-related conflict. The former points out the flaws in Señor Pasta’s arguments against petitioning the government with impassioned, patriotic language, as he seeks political reform, not revolution.

“Believe me, if you want to learn, you learn and then you end up knowledgeable.”

Señor Pasta counters Isagani’s argument to grant more Filipino citizens access to education. The former comes from a similar background to Isagani, and as such, believes that since they both found success, so can others. However, this argument relies on the assumption that obtaining knowledge is solely a matter of willpower, when there are many variables involved.

“There are already too many lawyers, and so many of them end up as scribes. Doctors? They insult each other, they slander each other, and they even kill each other fighting over patients. Strong arms, sir, we need strong arms for our farms.”

Ultimately, Isagani coaxes a confession out of Señor Pasta as to why he is unwilling to support the students’ petition: Señor Pasta, like some government officials and the clergy, fears losing prestige should the general public be educated. Señor Pasta fears competition, which highlights his lack of self-confidence (while other figures of power wish to suppress the general public out of greed or malice).

“Study nations that have indeed prospered and do what they are doing.”

In playing devil’s advocate, Simoun’s argument not only echoes Señor Pasta’s argument in Important Quote #10, but reiterates an underlying sentiment of colonialism. The argument lies in jingoism: Colonial Europeans believed themselves superior to other civilizations and ethnicities, with Europe’s ability to conquer and subdue other peoples being “proof.” According to Simoun, if other nations copied Europe, they, too, would prosper. Like Señor Pasta’s argument, this syllogism overlooks the many variables that enabled European forces to colonize and how colonialism itself creates an unfair environment that prevents other nations and ethnicities from being able to prosper.

“The head had spoken about priestly intrigues and impostures, and even

though they referred to a different time and other beliefs, they unsettled all the friars there, perhaps because they saw at bottom some analogy with the current situation.”

In Chapter 1, Simoun uses historical precedence, specifically the pharaohs of ancient Egypt, to justify using the labor of enslaved people for grand architectural and engineering projects. Simoun is the force behind Mr. Leeds’s story (that of his sphinx), and thus, he returns to the ancient Egyptians and their priestcraft to attack the friars’ consciences. Ultimately, the friars’ discomfort is proof that they are well-aware of their wrongdoings, especially Father Salví (who abused Simoun’s love María Clara).

“You don’t have to kiss the priest’s hand all the time, I know you have your

father’s delicate sense of smell—he couldn’t even eat European cheese—but we have to suffer, we have to keep our mouths shut, we have to say yes to everything.”

These are the laments of Plácido Penitente’s mother, who fears for her son’s future if he is expelled from the university and continues to defy the power of the clergy. Her words echo the sentiments of the downtrodden, who are petrified by real and imagined punishments into submission.

“I want to be free, to live free…”

Plácido’s words to himself are those that most can sympathize with and wish for themselves. It is the ultimate declaration of freedom, but Plácido does not see freedom as a possibility in his homeland, so he dreams of exile in Hong Kong.

“Some people are born to rule, and others to serve […] Believe me, it’s an

act of charity to keep each being in the place he currently holds. That’s order, it’s harmony. And that’s the science of governing.”

Don Custodio has a long dialogue with himself, which the narrator illustrates with flowing, indirect speech. His opinions echo arguments used to justify the continuation of class-based systems, which are sometimes grounded in race or religion for the benefit of those in power.

“‘He’s pretending to be the Count of Monte Cristo,’ said one woman with literary pretensions.”

José Rizal was a fan of Alexandre Dumas’s novel The Count of Monte Cristo, and his protagonist Simoun/Ibarra mirrors Dumas’s protagonist, Edmond Dantès, in many ways. This quote is ironic, as the woman’s comment is directed at Simoun, who desires revenge for those wronged in Noli Me Tángere.

“Rest in peace, sad daughter of my wretched country.”

These words begin a long lament by the narrator. José Rizal was a fan of European literature like that of Alexandre Dumas, and wrote in a style that was popular during the 19th century. Many novels during this period utilized the intervening narrator, who at times, addresses the reader directly. This quote is one such example, and allows the narrator to speak on behalf of the Filipino populace, not just one or more characters.

“A man traveling from abroad appears on their shores. Then suddenly their

freedom is gone and they end up subordinate and enslaved, and not only by the traveler himself but by his descendants, and even by his fellow countrymen, and not only for a generation but forever!”

Isagani walks alone and speaks to himself. He ponders the phenomenon of colonialism, in which an Indigenous population, always numerically stronger than the invading party, “allows” themselves to be subjugated. Isagani ultimately judges the Filipino populace as weak, because a strong people would not “allow” their own subjugation (despite there being many variables as to why this happens).

“‘It’s not all their fault, Father,’ Isagani replied. ‘It’s the fault of the people who taught them to be hypocrites, of the people who tyrannize freedom of thought and freedom of speech. Here any independent thought, any word that does not echo the will of the powerful, is called filibusterismo and you know well what that means.’”

Isagani speaks with Father Fernández, the more liberal and only liked professor at the university, about the broadsides and overall situation at the university. Similar to his discussion with Señor Pasta, Isagani points out the failures of a system that is set up for failure.

“Our authority is everything.”

The Captain-General speaks with his Chief of Staff about the arrest of students blamed for writing and distributing the broadsides. Like many of the government’s arguments in the novel, the Captain-General justifies injustice in the defense of authority, without which the government would become impotent. This is another example of false logic.

“I’m Spanish, too! But before Spanish, I’m a man, and before Spain and above Spain are the high principles of morality, the eternal principles of immutable justice.”

The Chief of Staff is representative of Spanish figures opposed to the ill-treatment of Spain’s colonial subjects (Filipino citizens), an opposition that was present from the very beginning of Spain’s colonialism. Both sides of the argument (regarding the treatment of Filipino citizens) use patriotic rhetoric rather than straightforward sympathy (or lack of). For the Captain-General, any attack on Spanish authority tarnishes Spanish honor, while the Chief of Staff believes injustices done in the name of Spain are what most affect the country’s reputation.

“Our approach, instead of being bloody and barbarous, would have been pious, perfect, artistic, and surely success would have crowned our efforts.”

Simoun speaks to Basilio moments before his plan for revenge and revolution is set in motion. He admits to having wished for a peaceful resolution to not only his problems, but those of the Filipino people. However, the country’s unjust system continues to hinder progress, pushing Simoun toward violence.

“The glory of saving a country doesn’t mean having to use the measures that contributed to its ruin! You have believed that what crime and iniquity have stained and deformed, another crime and another iniquity can purify and redeem! That’s wrong! Hatred creates nothing but monsters. Only love can bring about wondrous things. Only virtue is redemptive!”

El Filibusterismo was heavily influenced by Alexandre Dumas’s The Count of Monte Cristo, and as such, illustrates the vanity of vengeance. Dumas’s Edmond Dantès succeeds in his revenge but realizes the hollowness of it, whereas Simoun fails to obtain revenge and is told by a priest that violence only breeds further violence—and is thus counterproductive to societal reform.