from Manila Chronicle, Friday, February 2, 1990
Last Tuesday, January 30, I attended a commemoration of the 20th Anniversary of the First Quarter Storm. It got me into thinking of how it was then.
I remember when a KM member started breaking the white bulbs lighting the wall surrounding Malacanang. I remember the cheer that went up every time each bulb broke. Then when it was dark I recall the surge of power among the assembled multitudes. Hot blooded, acid tongued, quick tempered: we were out to change history that night. But we wanted to do it in the dark.
Jan. 30, 1970 would be the first time when Mendiola became a battleground of principles. Early in the night the police were not shooting at demonstrators. It was later in the surge and ebb of street battles when the University Belt population got out of classes and ran smack into a huge rumble between students and cops that riot-trained policemen retreated to be replaced by soldiers with guns out to quell a rebellion instead of controlling a crowd. It was, in fact, the University Belt fighters who made Mendiola the precious ground of student martyrs. It was not the radicals of UP and Ateneo that bore the brunt of that first tempest that became the First Quarter Storm. It was the then apolitical macho men of UE, PCC, Feati, FEU, San Beda and UST. After that night, they were still macho but no longer apolitical. The death of friends, the terror of gunfire, the taste of truncheon taught a lot of "isms" in one night. By the morning of Jan. 31,1970, a thousand chapters of student organizations begun taking root in schools and communities nationwide.
Now the the details are less crucial except to the careful historian. The First Quarter Storm has passed on to the collective unconscious of the nation. Much has been said about the possible consequences of an event that sensitized a whole generation to the economic and political problems of our society. But each generation finds a way to realize its responsibility for its nation's history. The generation before us came of age with the Second World War, the Japanese Occupation and Liberation. Our generation begun its education in the First Quarter Storm and through Martial Law. The generation after us opened their eyes with the death of Ninoy, through the protest movement that culminated with the Edsa revolution. Somehow, each generation learns about its society in the context of dramatic events laying bare the essentials of power, change, the impact of ideals, the prospects of a better world.
What did our generation learn from the First Quarter Storm? The answer has varied from year to year since then. The answer also depends on the kind of life one lives now. The student radical of the 1970's stranded in the underground now and compelled by momentum towards revolution would have learned the cost of sustaining any set of principles. Those who rejoined normal society after a few detours for political as well as personal reasons would have learned how limited and partial is politics as a shaper of life. Those who over-corrected by moving from the Old Left to the New Right would have learned and re-learned the narrow and unforgiving rules of hard struggle. Of course, there would be few pure cases and most will have a mixture of these.
It would have been nice if something as innocently idealistic, or spontaneously expressive as the First Quarter Storm had yielded only the good and beautiful in our history since then. Unfortunately, all social upheavals have their undesirable side-effects which are often difficult to trace. How far did the First Quarter Storm feed the military's unfounded paranoia then of a communist takeover? How did the quick marginalization of the committed moderates in 1970 prevent the earlier emergence of the middle forces that carried the Edsa Revolution so well? How much did the student movement distract the rest of the power structure then from the Marcos designs for a dictatorship supported by the military? How much of the 1970's shaped the hard-headed adherence to violence as a way of social change in the extreme segments of the Left? These are but a few of the nasty speculations one can draw out of such wonderful memories.
Yet I continue to treasure the gem in my past that is the FQS. Every time I remember the friends of that time who have passed away, I am reminded of a patriotism that is the stuff of day-to-day life not of the dead heroes in our history books. Every time I am tempted to give up on people, I am reminded of the utter power of ideas deeply held and I persevere again in seeking to convince not compel. I recall the sense of community in the whole and the sense of helplessness in the chaos, and I realize again the futility of solitary happiness in the midst of widespread misery. As I raise my children, I remind them of our honorable past, of the vast reservoir of common sentiment that drives Filipinos to live together despite the abundance of crooks, dumbos, opportunists, coup plotters, bandits, human rights violators, trip cutters, lane jumpers, stupid columnists, and other unsavory characters among us.
The paths we took after the FQS led us to many places. It is improbable that 20 years of experience would leave our memory of that time unsentimentalized, unsubjectivitized and free of revisionism. But the farther we move away from that time, the more essential would the imprinted values which that experience left in us. The courage to stand by one's principles, the desire to freely express one's dreams for the nation, the willingness to pay the price, the eagerness to depend on one's fellow man, the exhilaration of finding one's place in the scheme of things, the glory of leading, the humility of following, the joy of advancing against odds, the joy of retreating when necessary, the sadness of losing kindred spirits, the hope of in finding new ones. While the FQS is obviously a political fact, 20 years hence, it has become an attitude, a part of a value system that colors one's views of society, a powerful memory that sparks one's hopes in a possible Philippines. These things are important in protesting the evils in our midst as they are invaluable in affirming the good around us. These are useful for sweeping away a hated order as they are assets in building a new and better one. If only for these reasons, we should remember and celebrate.
It is too bad that death is so permanent. If only dying were not so final, many friends long gone could still have reflected on these things today. Maybe they could have changed their minds. Or maybe not. In any case, I will scratch a watusi on the sidewalk as a faint reminder to rumbling in the distant past. I do it for Rock, Joe, Tonyhil, Tony T., Ed, Lorrie, Joey, Boyong, Tolits, Dennis, Richie, and whoever else of that time who did not make it here today in this world 20 years hence.