Answering the Emilio Aguinaldo question

It was a people’s dream made real, and in the center of it all was Emilio Aguinaldo, proclaimed that day as the “Supreme Head of this Nation.”

The images are vivid and heart-stirring: in the afternoon of June 12, 1898, a Sunday, the Act of the Declaration of Independence was read in Kawit, Cavite. Affixed with 98 signatures of Filipino revolutionary leaders — and ominously including an American colonel— the declaration was meant to let the world know that this besieged land, oppressed by a foreign power for three centuries, was now ready to mark its own destiny and stand proudly among the community of free nations. Waving atop a crowd of jubilant Filipinos was the Agoncillo-sewn

Philippine flag, resplendent with its blue and red bands, its three stars and brilliant yellow sun. “The Marcha Nacional Filipina,” a booming and triumphant ode

to the birth of Asia’s first republic penned by the Caviteno Julian Felipe, engulfed the cheers.

It was a people’s dream made real, and in the center of it all was Emilio Aguinaldo, proclaimed that day as the “Supreme Head of this Nation.”

Who is Miong?

“One’s heart swells and throbs again with the emotions of extreme delight; the soul is filled with pride, and the goal of patriotism seems well-nigh reached in the midst of such a magnificent spectacle!”

— Emilio Aguinaldo from True Version of the Philippine Revolution (1899)

Over a hundred years later the image of Aguinaldo, dressed in full general’s regalia and standing proudly from the terrace of his family manse, remains vivid as ever. Yet his legacy, larger than life as it is, remains entangled with persistent questions about his true nature. Hero. Opportunist. Proto-TraPo. Traitor. Patriot. Who was he?

First, the facts. Emilio Aguinaldo y Famy, “Miong,” was born to considerable privilege, thanks to income from the family lands in the Cavite hamlet of Kawit ( then Cavite El Viejo). Having lost his father at age nine, he was sent to Manila to study at the Colegio de San Juan de Letran. Returning to his hometown at age 17, he was soon appointed to the position of cabeza de barangay. It was only a short matter of time before he got involved with the Masonic society and right after that with the Bonifacio-led Katipunan, a growing insurrectionary force meant to topple Spanish rule. Just a year later, in 1896, the Philippine Revolution would get underway.

Thus began Aguinaldo’s quick rise as the undisputed leader of the Cavite campaign.

While Bonifacio’s forces were struggling against the might of the Spanish forces in Manila, Aguinaldo reaped strategic wins against the colonial forces in Cavite, earning him the title “Heneral.” One by one, the Spanish-held Cavite towns fell to the revolutionaries, even as Aguinaldo gained the renown of the commonfolk and the deadly ire of the Spanish authorities.

If Heneral Miong’s role in the revolution ended right at this point, it would have been more than enough to secure him a rightful place beside this country’s other esteemed heroes. But as any schoolchild will know, Aguinaldo’s name would be tainted by the events that followed.

The execution of the Bonifacios

According to historians, the Tejeros Convention of 1897 was organized to bring the feuding Magdalo and Magdiwang Katipunero factions under a unified combat strategy against the weakened Spanish forces. The Magdalos had Aguinaldo as their leader, while the Magdiwang faction was led by Mariano Alvarez. Andres Bonifacio, Supremo of the Katipunan, was called upon to preside and bring order to the proceedings.

The meetings that followed evolved into discussions of the structure and leadership of the movement. An election soon followed: Aguinaldo was voted president. Bonifacio, ranking second to Aguinaldo in the presidential vote, was instead elected Director of the Interior.

Events turned for the worse when a certain Daniel Tirona protested against Bonifacio holding the post, allegedly for want of formal education. He also suggested a different person to take Bonifacio’s seat. Most accounts say that it was at this point that a humiliated Bonifacio reached for his gun. Thwarted by cooler heads, Bonifacio walked out and declared the election nullified.

However justified Bonifacio’s anger may be, Aguinaldo’s council of advisers viewed his actions as constituting treason against the Aguinaldo government. A trial ensued and Bonifacio, along with his brother Procopio, was sentenced to death.

These dramatic events often obscure a crucial fact. Records show that Aguinaldo was not present at all during the convention. While this does not completely absolve him from exerting any influence on the actions of his men in the proceedings, it is enough evidence to prove that he was not a direct participant in the events that followed.

Also lesser known is Aguinaldo’s initial commutation of the death sentence of the Bonifacio brothers, only to change his mind after some urging from his council. In a statement written in 1948 Aguinaldo himself explains:

“Ngayon, noong matanto at maparoonan ako agad ng dalawang Miembro ng Consejo de Guerra, General Mariano Noriel at General Pio del Pilar, at matawagan ang pansin ko kung ibig po ninyong magpatuloy ang kapanatagan ng ating Pamahalaan sa Paghihimagsik, at kung ibig ninyong mabuhay pa tayo, ay bawiin po ninyo ang inyong indulto sa magkapatid na iyan. At kaya nga ipinabawi ko at iniatas ko tuloy kay General Noriel, ipatupad ang inihatol ng Consejo de Guerra, sa kanilang magkapatid.”

Thus, the fate of the Bonifacio brothers was sealed. They were executed in the mountains of Maragondon on May 10, 1897.

Defining Miong’s legacy

At the proclamation of Independence, Aguinaldo was named dictator of the country —an inevitability, given the fog of war and the fact that this was the Filipinos’ first taste of self-rule. He soon formed a revolutionary government that gave birth to Asia’s first republican government and constitution. His government introduced reforms for education, fiscal policy, local jurisdiction, and recognized the freedom of the press and right to assembly.

It would be a short- lived republic. Following the United States’ annexation of the islands, the ensuing Philippine-American War and Aguinaldo’s capture in 1901, he was forced to obedience but eventually permitted to retire to his Kawit house.

Under Amer ican rule, he campaigned for veterans’ welfare. He ran for the presidency of the Commonwealth government in 1935 but lost the elections to his former military aide, Manuel Luis Quezon. For the rest of his life, Aguinaldo remained an active observer of the country’s affairs, occassionally stepping in advisory positions after World War II. He died in 1964 at the age of 94.

Other controversies would be attached to Aguinaldo’s name: The alleged collusion with America, the irregularities in the handling of the Biak-naBato settlement money in Hong Kong, and most tragically, the assasination of the illustrious General Antonio Luna by Aguinaldo’s men in 1899. Yet it is the death of Andres and Procopio that resonates the most in the minds of Filipinos, perhaps because it so easily pits two formidable figures of Philippine history in stark contrast, easily categorizable for high-school debates and coffee chats.

It is no wonder then that reconciling the Aguinaldo who so proudly stood as the emblem of the Filipino’s love for freedom and the Aguinaldo who schemed and maneuvered for personal ambition continues to be a challenge a century later.

That the facts of Aguinaldo’s life cannot fit a neat narrative of selfless heroic acts is exactly the strongest argument against formulating blackand-white judgments against him. Historical documents from the era, some written by Aguinaldo himself, paint a picture of a forceful, determined and shrewd man. American diplomat and author Edwin Wildman wrote in 1901:

“There is something in this little Tagalog that inspires respect, something that commands attention ... Who possesses the power to inspire men to heroism and self-sacrifice; who mustered an army out of men who never fought but with the knife, bow, and arrow; who held in check the violent passions for revenge, plunder, and destruction in a race accustomed to cruelty and oppression from the white man. In the nineteenth century there has not been a more unique figure among the native races of the earth than this Tagalog patriot or rebel; call him what you will.”

Call him what you will

For as much as Aguinaldo was a brilliant military tactician in both pitched and guerilla warfare and a shrewd politician who could go toe-to-toe with officals representing the interests of a world superpower, he was above all, a visionary. For he knew freedom has a price, both in blood and in compromise. He waged war using both weapons and words. He got his uniform bloodied, his hands dirtied.

None of this will erase his flaws, nor his sins. But with Emilio Aguinaldo, you know you are looking at a human being— a Filipino— who probably fought just as hard with himself as he did with his enemies. Whether he won or lost that battle is for better minds to discuss.

But whether the country won or lost with him, is history’s question. A question that this nation needs to answer at some point, because as recent examples have shown, it is a necessary and continuing responsibility to ask questions about power and how it is exercised by the people who hold them.

The answer may be messy and far too inconvenient for introductory history classes and the requisite classroom debates that follow them. But, if nothing else, Aguinaldo’s life gives us a glimpse of the Filipino’s concept of freedom and what he’s capable of doing to claim it.

Call him what you will, but Heneral Miong shall be forever part of the story of Philippine independence.