Not our fourth of July

There is a photo in our Official Gazette filed under republic Day, which shows the American flag being lowered, as the Philippine Flag was being raised. It was the fourth of July, 1946, the day our independence was granted by the United States of America, our colonizer. As I write this, I am grappling for words to find another term that could take the place of “grant,” if only to ennoble that day. In another dimension, more cinematic than political, we could have “won” this independence, bringing into mind the scenarios at the battlefields, the fury at the legislative halls, and the grandeur of heroes fighting for freedom.

Go back to that photo. The people were standing around what was described as makeshift stand, the front of the Legislative Building having been bombed out by both the Americans and the Japanese during the last days of World War II. Look again at the creativity of the people organizing the said significant event. The stage was no ordinary stage; it was shaped like a boat, complete with a nautical figurehead.

Whoever thought of the ship as the political metaphor for the stage or platform from which a declaration of independence and the flagraising crucial to ceremony could be held, must be making a statement. A journey? Could it be a reference, a nod back to the balangay or biniray, the smallest units of the proto-state out of which this republic could be composed?

What could be the statement, the subtle implication? The figurehead, that anthropomorphic shape at the prow, has many other names. These are: “titular,” “nonentity,” a “nominal head.” It could also be referred to as “stooge.”

With due respect to our history, the discipline now suspect, we can never think of our leaders then as stooges or “strawmen,” another word for figurehead. But there is

that dumb question now arising, and that is, how independent were we in May of 1946?

The question remains and it is an inquiry that has moved from the dictionary to political economy. More photos are shown about that day, one showing what has become a tradition now— that of a president descending and another ascending. In a photo, we see Sergio Osmeña coming down as the head of the Commonwealth with Manuel Roxas accompanying him. Later, Roxas would ascend those stairs to assume the presidency of the Republic.

Documents state how Roxas had to take his oaths twice: first under the Commonwealth and later, as the first president of the Republic. In the first oath-taking he, as documented, delivered the following words: “Our appointment with destiny is upon us. In five weeks, we will be a free

Republic. Our noble aspirations for nationhood long cherished and arduously contended for by our people, will be realized. We will enter upon a new existence in which our individual lives will form together a single current, recognized and identified in the ebb and flow of world events as distinctly Filipino.”

Certainly, the United States government was not that ready to “grant” the independence. There had to be two oaths, a tentative move that was almost a test.

Following the Tydings-mcduffie Law, the Commonwealth of the Philippines was transformed into the Republic of the Philippines. This was to be known as the Philippine Independence Act. The date: July 4, 1946. It was to be our own fourth of July.

Was there ever an issue about this date? Were our politicians conscious of the significance of that day to Americans? The fourth of July is the day of the Declaration of Independence of the United States, which dates back to 1776. In this case, the Americans were not only granting us independence; it was teaching us to remember the date as similar to the day they also became independent. Political strategy was all over this history in the making.

But we did not seem to care. At least for a few more years. It was good enough to be independent. That day seemed an emotional day for the Filipinos then. Note the military uniforms all around the stage. The terrible war had just ended some months back and we were already on our way to more freedom.

From the Blue Book of the First Year of the Republic, which was printed in 1947, came this melodramatic testimonial about that day: “The Philippine flag, its red bar below the blue in token of beneficent and dearly bought peace at last, began to wave in the sweeping wind. The wind came in swift, low gusts… From the west came a rain-laden gale….and the rain blended with our tears—tears of joy, of gratitude, and of pride in supreme accomplishment. Above us flew for the first time and over this embattled land, alone, happy, and unperturbed amidst sweeping gales and whipping rain—the flag of the Philippines.”

The lessons from our “benevolent conquerors” were too in your face the shift soon came. Or the change of hearts.

It was in 1962, according to the official document, that President Diosdado Macapagal moved the date of Philippine Independence from July 4 to June 12, the date when Emilio Aguinaldo proclaimed our independence from Spain. This gesture has a separate explanation in the Official Gazette. It states: “Moreover, the move was made in the context of the rejection of the US House of Representatives on the proposed $73 million additional war reparation bill for the Philippines on May 28, 1962. The rejection, according to President Macapagal, caused “indignation among the Filipinos” and a “loss of American good will in the Philippines.”

From the same official source, we learn something more about “June 12.” That date had always been there as “Flag Day,” a holiday declared by the Americans since 1919. This was the day when the Philippine flag was once more allowed to be displayed. This day of commemoration went on until 1962, for after that, we were allowed to display the flag of the Republic, and with it the thought that we were free.