Torture

By Ambeth Ocampo
Philippine Daily Inquirer
First Posted 01:40:00 11/07/2008
Whenever you see traffic policemen or enforcers lying in wait or hiding midway along a one-way street, one word comes to mind: “kotong.” One would assume that prevention should be the option rather than punishment, but then that does not generate income. If a traffic enforcer stands at the beginning of a one-way street and waves the unsuspecting or stubborn motorist the correct way, there is no need for a ticket, fine and seminar. No need for a bribe.

Erring motorists flagged down by corrupt traffic cops or deputized “alalay” [aides] used to be asked the odd question, “Sino’ng abogado mo?” [Who is your lawyer?] The clueless ask why they need a lawyer for a minor traffic infraction, so the corrupt cop then makes clear that the question is a polite way of asking for a bribe. The “lawyers” refer to various faces on the different denominations in our paper money. It is a way for the motorist to make an offer or haggle for a comfortable amount.

Remember nobody takes coins, so the heroes of the 19th century—Rizal, Mabini, Bonifacio—cannot act as “abogado.” Thus, Quezon means P20, Sergio Osmeña is worth P50, Manuel Roxas P100 and, God forbid, Aquino has a face value of P500. At today’s rate, Quezon and Osmeña will get you nothing, except a traffic ticket. Roxas might get you off the hook if you are lucky. Aquino often does the trick but, if you intend to haggle, then use Macapagal, who is worth P200. If you want a “Get out of jail” card like those in the famous board game Monopoly, you will need three “lawyers”: Abad Santos, Lim and Escoda who are on the P1,000-bill. Estrada is on the P2,000-bill but these limited-edition bills, while legal tender, are best kept for numismatic collectors and are probably worth more than their face value.

Looking at the “ube” ice cream colored Roxas bill recently, I remembered the controversy it sparked when it was first issued. Rabid nationalists objected to the American Stars and Stripes on our money. Why, they argued, is a foreign flag on our currency?

It was a valid point that missed two bits of history. First, if you take the trouble to read the Declaration of Independence from Spain that our founding fathers read from the window of Emilio Aguinaldo’s home in Kawit, Cavite on June 12, 1898, you will find that the colors of our flag—red, white and blue—are mentioned. Every school child knows the symbolism for these colors: red for bravery, white for purity, and blue for peace. There seems to be nothing assigned to yellow or gold, the colors of the eight-pointed sun and the three stars. Nationalists will be disappointed to discover that according to the 1898 Declaration of Independence, the red, white and blue in our flag, our national symbol, were based on the same colors as those in the American flag! Little wonder the author of that text was never given an important office in the First Republic.

Second, if you look at the Roxas bill, there is no text to explain the context of the offensive flag. It is presumed that everyone knows that the two flags on the bill come from a significant scene in Philippine history. On July 4, 1946 when the United States recognized the independence of the Philippines, the American flag that flew over the islands for almost 50 years was finally lowered, and our flag was raised—proof that we were, finally, a free and independent nation. On that day, Emilio Aguinaldo, a living relic of the Philippine Revolution, was quoted as saying, “Isinauli lamang nila ang kalayaang ating nakamit noong 1898.” [“They only returned the freedom we had won in 1898.”]

Aguinaldo was still alive when President Diosdado Macapagal moved our Independence Day from July 4 to June 12. The Philippine-American War puts this part of our history in context.

In the San Francisco Presidio exhibit “War and Dissent” is a disturbing picture showing the use of “water cure” on a Filipino being interrogated by American soldiers. The procedure is simple: Water (salty or dirty) is forced down a prisoner’s mouth, and then when the victim’s stomach is full and bloated, someone jumps on it, forcing the water out. This is repeated until the victim spills the beans. I have read the transcripts of US congressional investigations on this and was horrified that sometimes this torture was done under medical supervision so that the victim was pushed to his limits but kept alive. Despite being a century old, this painful part of the Philippine-American War gains renewed resonance because of the use of torture in our times, in later wars.

To be fair and balanced though, there is an old photograph of small models showing the various forms and types of torture used by the Spaniards on Filipinos during their watch. Torture was used by all sides in those wars. A disgusted Apolinario Mabini denounced its use, and said it was more humane to carry out a swift execution than slow torture.

The Philippine-American War has long been swept under the rug. To study it makes us realize that history does not repeat itself. We have not progressed much in the past century. History does not move by itself, rather it is we who repeat.

What one should learn from history is not the names, dates and places better used for game shows and crossword puzzles. The real challenge is to recognize and break the historical cycle.

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Comments are welcome at aocampo@ateneo.edu.