Noli Me Tangere (Touch Me Not)There can be no tyrants where there are no slaves. ~ Jose Rizal For
Americans committed to understanding and resisting the unrelenting
erosion of liberty by an increasingly totalitarian State, the transformation
of the American sociopolitical milieu during the 19th century, particularly
following the watershed War Between the States, remains a phenomenon
of particular and abiding significance. For while the case can be
made that certain aspects of the problems that eventually emerged
were unwittingly seeded by the very founders of our republican system,
in retrospect there can be no mistaking a sudden acceleration in
the growth of Leviathan commencing from the outbreak of America's
bloodiest war. After 1861, America was increasingly run (in fact,
if not in the letter of the law) according to a different set of
rules from those that had operated prior to the war. Domestically
this was manifested by expansion of federal government powers at
the expense of state, local and individual rights. The international
corollary of this was America's increasingly imperialistic and interventionist
approach to foreign affairs in the 20th century. Such interventionism
would never have been possible given the set of spiritual and cultural
values predominant among the founders of the republic. That Americans
throughout the 20th century generally tolerated the federal government's
illicit expansion of power, both domestically and internationally,
indicates a major transformation of popular values. I
was recently struck by a sublime irony that helps illustrate how
radically the face of America was transformed, both at home and
abroad, in the span of a few decades, as we approached the 20th
century. Recently,
when LewRockwell.com provided
a link to Alabama's
Secession Convention Flag, emblazoned with the phrase "Noli
Me Tangere" (1861), I was immediately struck by the irony of
the slogan and the date. For I had just learned through a close
Filipino friend that 1861 also marks the birth of Jose Rizal,
the Philippines' most famous and extraordinarily multi-talented
patriot (among other things, he was an eye surgeon, competent in
22 languages and a skillful artist).
In 1896, at the age of 35, this genius was executed as a traitor
by Spain, largely due to the alleged "seditious" influence
of his classic novel of sociopolitical satire, Noli Me Tangere.
This novel, published in 1887, not only inspired the Philippine
Revolution but also nationalist movements in China and other countries
of Southeast Asia during the late 19th and early 20th centuries.
Here is a brief excerpt from it describing a cockfight.
This novel was followed in 1891 by an angrier and more passionate
sequel, El Filibusterismo (Subversion), which established
his reputation as the leading spokesman of the Philippine reform
movement. Although Rizal, a Freemason, endeavored to expose the
abuses of the Spanish friars who ran the Philippines, it appears
that it was never his intention to leave the Catholic faith. Basically,
he was martyred for telling the truth: rigid control of the flow
of information and communications between the Filipino masses and
the outside world was vital to the friars' maintaining power, and
a master of communications like Rizal was seen as a direct threat
to that control. The
irony is that as Rizal's compatriots were in armed uprising
against Spain (Rizal himself consistently sought for reform of Spain's
oppressive colonial policies rather than for outright independence,
as he felt the bulk of Filipinos – deliberately kept illiterate
as a matter of colonial policy – would be incapable of self-government),
they turned – against Rizal's advice – to the United States of America
for assistance, believing that America would honor Philippine independence.
After all, was not America free from the imperialist ambitions of
the European nations? Would not military occupation of the Philippines
be contrary to America's own constitution? And would not America
be sympathetic to the Filipino cause, having recently fought a war
"to end the evil of slavery"? Surely America would free
the Philippines from the yoke of Spain . . . If
Rizal's compatriots could have seen Alabama's Secession Convention
flag emblazoned with the same phrase that was inspiring the Filipino
fight for national sovereignty and local self-rule, perhaps they
would have recognized the folly of expecting the United States to
come to their aid out of altruistic motives. The very fact that
America would be willing to deploy military forces there should
have been a red flag warning the Philippines that our intentions
there were less than noble. Indeed, although Cuba and Puerto Rico
were far closer to America's shores, there was no valid compelling
reason for military involvement even in those territories. (The
still-controversial notion of deliberate "Spanish sabotage"
of the U.S.
battleship Maine, trumpeted incessantly by the warmongering
Pulitzer and Hearst press, runs contrary to common sense, as Spain
had every reason to want to avoid a war with the U.S.A. in America's
own backyard.) However, compared with military adventurism in a
totally unrelated archipelago on the opposite side of the globe,
involvement of our forces in Cuba and Puerto Rico seems downright
reasonable. But be that as it may, by the late 19thcentury the U.S.
government was already well-versed in the fine art of riding roughshod
over both the spirit and letter of the constitution, and the Philippines
discovered too late that they were simply trading a Spanish yoke
for an American. This
nascent American imperialism, begun under McKinley and enthusiastically
carried forward by Teddy Roosevelt, Henry Cabot Lodge, and Albert
Beveridge, met widespread – though hardly universal – approval in
the USA. Both domestically and abroad, many prominent figures vocally
opposed the new America. Rizal's close friend, the great Austrian
academic Ferdinand
Blumentritt, was active in lobbying Washington for Philippine
independence, and other prominent members of the Anti-Imperialist
League, including Andrew
Carnegie, Mark
Twain , William
James , and many others
protested vigorously against what they viewed as a perversion and
abandonment of great and quintessentially American ideals. The degree
of success the Anti-Imperialist League enjoyed in influencing American
foreign policy is evident from the subsequent course of events in
the 20th century. In other words, they accomplished little: popular
support of imperialism among the American people was overwhelming.
The result was the annexation of the Philippines by the U.S.A. and
the longest war in American
history, producing, by some estimates, in excess of half a million
casualties, and during which we were at times met with such stubborn
resistance that we required the development of a more powerful military
pistol
and even "improved" torture
techniques. Of
course, despite its objective repugnance, what America did during
those early years in the Philippines was hardly unique at the time,
or even uniquely cruel. America had already witnessed the horror
of anti-Christian "total
warfare" against our own fellow Christian citizens in the
War Between the States. Before us, Spain's rule of its overseas
territories had been highly oppressive, especially under the friars
in the Philippines. While America was putting down the Philippine
"insurrection," the Anglo-Boer
War was unfolding as a bloody shooting match between fellow
Calvinists, complete with concentration camps, in order to secure
African mineral wealth for Cecil Rhodes and his cohorts. China had
long since been subjugated through unequal treaties
and Japan was having its way with Korea.
Back then we were all "equal opportunity oppressors."
It was not a world in which the cry of "noli me tangere"
was likely to be respected unless it could be backed with a sufficiently
painful bite for any would-be violators. (The Swiss have traditionally
done a good job in this department.) Against
this backdrop, despite getting off to a terrible start, American
control of the Philippines eventually came to be, overall, an improvement
over Spain's – although that isn't saying much: implementing
more draconian colonial policies than Spain's would have been quite
a challenge. And given the fact that Japan and various European
powers were standing by like vultures ready to pounce in case America
decided to relinquish its hold on the Philippines, it is doubtful
whether Philippine independence could have been maintained in any
case. In the classic The
Political Doctrines of Sun Yat-Sen (Johns Hopkins Press,
1937), Paul Anthony Myron Linebarger (also known to science fiction
fans as Cordwainer Smith) reports that Sun Yat-Sen – who was
sympathetic to the Filipino nationalist revolution and perhaps better
informed than any contemporary leader save Woodrow Wilson –
had a high opinion of American rule in the Philippines, at least
as compared with the earlier Spanish rule and what other colonial
powers were doing to other East and Southeast Asian countries (pages
186-187,200). Still, what did that ultimately yield? After liberating
the Philippines from the Japanese (whose rule during WWII the Filipinos
disliked even more than the Americans'), we granted nominal independence
but maintained a massive permanent military presence there. Overwhelming
American domination of the country, and perpetuation of deeply ingrained
political corruption, continued until after the fall of the Marcos
regime. Today
the Philippines is still, in many respects, a basket case. President
Aquino, who came to power after Marcos' fall, tried to implement
some "land reform" measures – the untouchable "third
rail" of Philippine politics – but little changed, for better
or worse. President Ramos, who followed her, thought it prudent
to just ignore the landless peasants and pretend the problem of
grossly lopsided land ownership didn't exist. (Time and the free
market could eventually resolve this issue, but politics are often
hostile to both.) Then the Filipinos proved the old adage that people
get the government they deserve when they stupidly chose as their
next president Joseph Estrada, whose primary qualification for public
office was popularity and fame from his acting career; this "champion
of the poor" proved to be inept at everything except lining
his pockets with kickbacks from illegal gambling operations. Now
Estrada has recently been ousted and replaced by Gloria Arroyo,
whose rise seems to have been choreographed by the nation's elites. The
Estrada fiasco points to another pressing problem, although one
hardly unique to the Philippines: the need for educational reform.
How can a sound democracy exist amid massive ignorance, where people
elect a person not on the basis of his competence, but because he
is a well-known and popular movie actor? (I know, we haven't been
doing much better with our own selection of presidents in the U.S.,
and it is scary.) And how can meaningful educational reform occur
if it must come through the efforts of a corrupt and inept government? What
this suggests is that the most fundamental reform required by the
Philippines is in the spiritual attitudes of each person. The battle
for transformation of society is a battle for the hearts and minds
of individuals. As Lawrence E. Harrison has pointed out in his books,
Underdevelopment
is a State of Mind. True, during five centuries of colonial
rule, Spain and America did the Filipinos no great favors. We did
not do a good job of imparting skills, values and attitudes conducive
to effective self-government. However, "that was then and this
is now." Now it is incumbent upon the Filipinos themselves
to build with what they have been given. The same is true for both
today's America and the Philippines: unless there is a widespread
change of peoples' hearts, so that people are essentially self-governing
(i.e., in terms of internalized principles),the alternative
will be either chaos or tyranny. Simon Bolivar's final judgment
on post-colonial Latin America, in 1830, applies not only to modern
Latin America, but also to the Philippines, and increasingly even
to modern America: "I
was in command for twenty years, and during that time came to only
a few definite conclusions: (1) I consider that, for us, [Latin]
America is ungovernable; (2) whoever works for a revolution is plowing
the sea; (3) the most sensible action to take in [Latin] America
is to emigrate;(4) this country [Great Columbia, later to be divided
into Columbia, Venezuela, and Equador] will ineluctably fall into
the hands of a mob gone wild, later again to fall under the domination
of obscure small tyrants of every color and race; (5) though decimated
by every kind of crime and exhausted by our cruel excesses, we shall
still not be tempting to Europeans for a reconquest;(6) if any part
of the world were to return to a primeval chaos, such would be the
last avatar of [Latin] America." (Quoted in Carlos Rangel's
The
Latin Americans: Their Love-Hate Relationship With the United States
, p. 6; I got it from Harrison's book above.) In
the end, it all comes down to Rizal's remark: "There can be
no tyrants where there are no slaves." The person who is truly
self-governed – who internalizes and willingly submits to God's
commandment to love God with all his heart and to love his neighbor
as himself – is the man who is truly free, who cannot be enslaved.
As declared by the other side
of the Secession Convention Flag, he is truly "Independent
Now and Forever." The man who cannot govern himself in this
fashion is already a slave, of his own passions at the least. Such
a man is simultaneously both slave and tyrant, because the heart
of the slave and the heart of the tyrant are essentially one and
the same; the label worn depends solely on whether he coerces, or
is coerced. The truly free man will seek to extend his dominion
over others, but it will be a dominion exercised through mutual
voluntary submission (service) rather than through coercion. When
the inward hearts of enough men in a society are self-governed in
this way, the outward reality will eventually change to reflect
it in every sphere, including domestic politics and international
relations: ". . . they shall sit every man under his vine and
under his fig tree; and none shall make them afraid." (I love
Calvin's
exegesis of this verse.) This is the real long-term key to recovering
liberty in relations among both men and nations, whether we're talking
about Montgomery, Manila, Moscow, or Mogadishu. We need to get out
the missionaries again, but this time without the military in tow. Download
for free a rare book on international relations from a Biblical
perspective: Gary North's Healer of the Nations. June 2, 2001 C.
D. Witmer [send him mail]
is a translator in Japan, where he has lived for most of his life,
minding his own business and a few others. Copyright
© 2001 LewRockwell.com |