The nation’s struggle to remember itself

Cultural modernity’s sustainability

Why do we add ‘original’ when referring to Original Pinoy Music or make a big fuss when our culture (looking at you, Trese) is highlighted in mainstream media? Forgive me when I say it’s because we struggle with remembering who we were and are so desperate for a self-brand—all for the right reasons.

The plethora of Philippine traditions and histories can hardly be condensed into a single, defining culture. We didn’t unify ourselves as Japan, China, or the young United States did; we have the Spanish to thank that for. We were bunches of petty chiefdoms that warred and plundered against the other. The Bathala-fearing Tagalog from the Kingdom of Tondo would see it as mad to think of his pirate Moro counterpart who had just finished raiding Visayan islands as his brother. But some of us don’t remember it, which is understandable given we know virtually nothing.

Constant pillaging of indigenous cultures left us with forgotten practices and a confused obsession with what remained. Si Malakas at si Maganda, whose exact origins are unknown, has become a fixation to bring Catholicism’s Adam and Eve closer to Filipino culture. Attempts to revive Baybayin as the national writing system persist despite its impracticality and inefficiency. Filipinos even believe there was a Maharlikan Empire filled with rich animistic faith when no such thing existed.

These snippets of our ancestors and the things they did and liked are explored only in academic papers—a minute amount of which are lucky enough to grab a story writer’s attention and be, sometimes lazily, adapted into the mainstream—or when the researchers communicate them to the public. Marvel Ambeth Ocampo’s Looking Back series: His opinion pieces there have been condensed into 17 and counting volumes exploring who did what in history and what folklore pre-colonial Filipinos believed in.

Yet even those well-versed in culture find difficulty unearthing our past when it is so elusive. We relatively don’t have extensive written historical records. The diwatas and bakunawas put into writing are almost nonexistent. National records that survived colonialism and natural decay were destroyed or looted during World War II, further diminishing what we have left of our past. Matched with abundant globalization trends, it’s no wonder Filipinos are overly conscious of their culture when foreign influences dominate their space.

We practically see this in the rise and dramatic impact of P-pop and hit teleseryes Maria Clara at Ibarra and Pulang Araw (not to mention Amaya) garnished with the fantasy setting of Encantadia. The people yearn for historical representation where they can observe their cultural roots through the modern lens. No wonder Filipinos heavily consume K-dramas featuring ancient Korean cultures, asking themselves, did we have that kind of thing before?

Understanding, reviving, and reclaiming our past is a noble endeavor. Even Jose Rizal, before he became history, attempted to establish what a Filipino is through his annotations of Antonio Morga’s Susecos de las Islas Filipinas, a 1609 history book about the Philippines.

Swooning over cultural and historical media in the Philippine mainstream is awkward yet understandable. We haven’t had the best chance to know who we historically were—that is, until now, when almost everything is accessible online. Filipinos may be struggling and desperate to remember themselves, but it is never too late to act on it.

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Layout by: Timothy Andrei Milambiling