In celebration of the sesquicentennial (150th) birth anniversary of Dr. Jose Rizal, the Philippine's national hero, I asked my graduate students to visit museums that exhibit memorabilia for our dear renaissance Filipino man Jose Rizal, attend local and international academic symposium on The First World-Class Filipino Jose Rizal, travel to his ancestral house in Laguna, or pay respect to one of Asia's great intellectuals enshrined at Luneta Park, and so on...
I am posting in my blog with the writer's consent selected ethnography penned creatively by my students to contribute to the emerging sub-discipline of anthropology called 'Virtual Ethnography'.
Basically, virtually ethnography is also referred to as Webnography. We cannot deny the fact that with increasing use of technology and the Internet, there is now a demand for online spaces on various ethnographic accounts.
Ethnography by Javad Foronda Heydarian Originally entitled as "Jose Rizal and His Influence: Symbol of a Long-Gone Glory or a Promise for a Better Future?"
As I walked towards the UP Library to visit the new, posh and elegant museum, made in honor of Jose Rizal’s 150th birthday, I tried to hold back a wave of unremitting emotions, which began to take hold of me. Being a person of mixed ethnic background, I always tried to draw on the experiences, glories, and traditions of my divergent, yet cross-fertilizing, backgrounds and sets of heritage. Despite my strange and bifurcated sense of nationalism, rooted in two nations, I always inevitably had a more cosmopolitan predisposition. Undoubtedly, Rizal was among my favorite heroes.
Having spent most of my formative years in the Middle East, I grew up to admire a number of luminaries and figures, which have carved their place at the center of human history. I was always proud of my Persian heritage, whenever my schoolbooks, television programs, or conversations among elders reminded me of how Cyrus the Great found the first world empire 2500 years ago or how Darius the Great was responsible for one of the most outstanding engineering feats in ancient history, when he constructed the Persepolis. These were emperors that the likes of Aristotle and Alexander the Great admired: They provided the imperial foundations upon which Alexander pursued his universalistic dreams of a unified world.
But my pride in the Persian civilization was not confined to monarchs and their grandiose exploits. I got to know how in the Middle Ages Persian scientists and philosophers contributed to the glory of the Islamic empire by building on a rich Indo-Persian-Greek scientific and cultural heritage that they inherited from their ancestors: Avicenna laid-down the foundation for modern medicine, by drawing on ancient Greek knowledge, while Al-Khwarazimi combined Greek geometry and Indian arithmetic to establish modern-day Algebra. The European renaissance was afterall a bi-product of the transmission of their works to the West over centuries. But the Persians were also prolific in arts and culture. Rumi is responsible for one of the most romantic and enduring poetic pieces that have made their way to even Hollywood movies, while one of Saadi’s poems was chosen to represent the spirit of the United Nations, when it was imprinted on its walls. More modern times were witness to the rise of a number of prominent Iranian leaders, who made their mark on history. In the 1950s, Prime Minister Mosadegh was among the first democratically-elected leaders in the ‘third world’, who stood up to the Great Powers by nationalizing the British-Iranian oil company and winning the case in the United Nations – thanks to his eloquence and relentless passion. Yet, most people are more aware of Ayatollah Khomeini, who galvanized a nation and launched the Islamic Revolution, which altered the history of a civilization forever - He would later on be chosen as one of the most influential figures of the 20th century.
More than a decade ago, I caught my mother reading a seemingly fascinating book with immense vigor and enthusiasm. What I saw on her face was a distinct joy, when a person feels this genuine sense of national pride and inspiration. That was probably my first encounter with Jose Rizal. I got to know through my mother’s words that her country also gave birth to an awe-inspiring genius, polymath, scientist, and a sincere nationalist, who fought for his country and dreamed of a better future. Later on, when I pursued my further studies in the Philippines, I got to know more about him. In the University of the Philippines, I learned how Rizal was not only a Filipino hero, but also a visionary and a beacon of hope for many Southeast Asian countries. After all, before Ghandi, Mandela, Nehru, and all these other great leaders in the ‘third world’, Rizal was the enlightened thinker, who tried to rescue his nation from the chains of subjugation and destitute. He sacrificed his life to fulfill his dream.
As I entered the museum, I anxiously sought for any artifact, book, or painting to abet my efforts at getting to know more about this man of distinction. I was never an unquestioning admirer of any person. I was well aware of criticisms laid against him: that, among many other issues, he was an ‘American construct’ for he symbolized political passivity and humanistic dedication to arts and sciences – something that any colonial power would be more than happy to present as a model citizen. Cognizant of UP’s militant and revolutionary credentials and temperament, I knew how many individuals prefer Bonifacio’s narrative as the true embodiment of Filipino nationalism, quest for freedom, and opposition to the inequities of the colonial era. However, when I found myself in midst of Rizal’s portraits in a museum embellished by this beautiful and captivating operatic piece playing in the background, for a moment I consciously dropped all my reservations about him in order to simply celebrate the contributions of this respectable historical figure.
Unlike many other national leaders, Rizal looked very young in many paintings displayed in the museum. The many portraits of him exhibited his innocent and relentless dedication to a vision for his country. His youthful and humble features reflected the fresh promise of independence and prosperity for a small Spanish colony he tries so hard to set free. Beneath those melting eyes and innocuous, non-presumptuous looks, he appeared as a man way ahead of his times and years.
The museum was also a miniature of UP’s evolution as an institution and how over decades, depending on the broader political climate and the ideology of its leaders, it interpreted and re-visited the works and ideas of Rizal. Also in display was the copy of the book Rizal: Contrary Essays, which seemingly sought to condense his views and capture the intellectual and aesthetic aspects of his many writings and works. The 1970s were obviously a time of great political upheaval and Bonifacio seemed to gain the upper-hand in the imagination of revolutionary Filipinos. The section of the Museum dedicated to Rizal was divided into tow parts. The bigger section was host to a collection of many paintings and a regal-looking statue: about a dozen paintings, mostly oil on canvas, that were drawn by many leading Filipino artists, who found a profound value in keeping Rizal’s legacy intact and worthy of much admiration. Looking at the logbook, I realized that more than 300 people visited the museum in the last few weeks. As I took my steps towards the exit, I reflected on how this man has influenced many of us, who also wish for a better future for our beloved nations. Once out of the museum, faced with ubiquitous realities of everyday UP life, I wondered if people truly realize the extent of Rizal’s sacrifice for this country. Would they remember him as a man who represented hopeful generation of young educated Filipinos, who simply fought for what they thought was right in a particular epoch based on the distinct Zeitgeist? Or would they take necessary inspiration out of his narrative to build the foundation of a truly sovereign and prosperous nation?
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