Corregidor
We Filipinos are often criticized
for remembering defeats instead of victories. For proof, one can always
point to Corregidor. Many Filipinos remember how Gen. Jonathan Wainwright
surrendered Corregidor to the Japanese ``in sadness, but not in shame''
on May 6, 1942; but almost none remember that the Americans recaptured
it on March 2, 1945.
One could argue that we
should remember the recapture of Corregidor because of the symbolic value
of that victory. Both the Japanese and the Americans knew that ``the Rock''
had a significance to both sides far greater than its military value. Gen.
Douglas MacArthur's promise, ``I shall return,'' would be fully fulfilled
only if he recaptured Corregidor. The Japanese would lose face in the eyes
of the world if MacArthur succeeded. And so, the more than 5,000 Japanese
troops fought to the death.
A little reflection suggests,
however, that the recapture of Corregidor had little symbolic value for
Filipinos. No Filipinos participated in the fierce battle for the island
-- and it was only the American flag that was raised when General MacArthur
ordered Col. George M. Jones, the commander of the forces that took Corregidor,
``Have your troops hoist the colors to the peak, and let no enemy ever
haul them down.''
Moreover, the recapture
of Corregidor was only an incident in the liberation of the Philippines.
It was not until August, when Japan surrendered, that Gen. Tomoyuki Yamashita,
who had retreated into the Cordilleras with about 50,000 troops, laid down
his arms. The recapture of Corregidor brought about no major change in
the status or the thinking of the average Filipino.
In contrast, we remember
General Wainwright's surrender of Corregidor in 1942 because it formally
marked the fall of the Philippines to the Japanese. It meant a dramatic
change in the Filipino's way of life. It also dashed what little hopes
remained (after Bataan) of the miles-long convoys of troops and war materiel
that allegedly were enroute to the Philippines. Bataan and Corregidor raised
serious doubts among the many Filipinos who had placed their faith in Mother
America.
The example of Corregidor
suggests that we do not really prefer to celebrate our defeats rather than
our victories. It suggests, rather, that we, like all normal human beings,
remember those watershed events that change our lives drastically for the
better or for the worse.
We remember the Corregidor
of May 6, 1942 because it meant a major change for us; we do not bother
to remember the Corregidor of March 2, 1945 because it meant no difference
for us.
Whenever we remember an
event, its being a victory or a defeat is irrelevant. What matters is whether
the event marks a major change in our way of life or, at least, in the
way we look at ourselves. This is why we remember -- and celebrate -- the
execution of Dr. Jose Rizal, which was a tragedy, and the Cry of Balintawak,
which was a defeat.
We do not celebrate the
anniversaries of President Marcos' declaration of martial law, but most
of us will remember Sept. 21, 1972 as a date that marked a major discontinuity
in our history -- and changed the lives of so many of us, for better or
for worse.
And this is why Feb. 25
is evolving into an uncertain celebration. As long as a great number of
Filipinos could trace major changes in their lives to Feb. 25, 1986, that
date was regarded as the dawning of a new age of virtue and prosperity.
Unfortunately, more and more Filipinos have arrived at the realization
that things have not really changed -- and so, that date is being invested
with less and less significance.
In many ways, the declaration
of martial law is an event similar to the Fall of Corregidor. Will Feb.
25, 1986 end up as insignificant as March 2, 1945?