Reflections on Tanghalang Pilipino’s Pingkian and the Trillion Peso March

“Ilang beses naman na tayong nagra-rally, may magagawa pa ba ‘yan?”

Over the years, I have had numerous encounters with people (myself included) who questioned the potential of protest to bring change. I could hear that doubt at the back of my mind as I joined the swarm of 50,000 protesters last Sunday at Luneta. It was the biggest rally I have joined yet. To feel hopeful was invigorating; to feel fear alongside it was inevitable. My companions and I packed our mini first-aid kits, wrote emergency contacts on slips of paper, and tucked them into our pockets—just in case.

Meanwhile, inside the Tanghalang Ignacio Gimenez at the CCP Complex, about 2.9 kilometers from the storm along Roxas Boulevard, a company of actors and actresses were donning their dresses, pistols, and uniforms. The musical entitled Pingkian was set to begin at 3 p.m., and would tell of a critically wounded young general’s struggle to survive while dipping in and out of episodic deliriums wherein his past and possible future collided. Heneral Pingkian was the alias of the revolutionary we have all known as Emilio Jacinto who earned the title “Brains of the Katipunan” with his writings and leadership.

I left the Luneta rally sometime past noon, just enough time for me to grab lunch and change clothes. Needless to say, watching the two-hour long play after sweating and marching just an hour before entering the airconditioned hall of the theater felt surreal and frankly, vaguely indifferent. But such an experience wherein an echo of the past phenomenally converged with the unfolding and pressing current demanded comparisons, or at the very least reflection.

Sapat ba ang mga salita?

“Sapat ba ang aking mga salita?” Pingkian would ask time and time again—of himself, of his hero Rizal, and of his dear friend Bonifacio. News of the Trillion Peso March rally spread like wildfire on social media in the weeks leading up to it, fueled by reports that sparked fury among 97.5 million Filipino netizens, with construction tycoons Curlee and Sarah Discaya at the center of the story, joined by the comedic antics of lawmakers and the debut of nepo babies front and center. Last Sunday’s turnout of supporters revealed that raging online through tweets and reposts was no longer enough. Words were no longer enough.

Vice Ganda’s salvo was a highlight of the Edsa Shrine demonstration, making it a point to call out all those guilty of plundering the people’s money—from the complicit and the collaborators to the puppet masters. “Isa lang ang gusto naming sabihin sa inyong lahat—patawad kay Father, pero putang ina ninyo!” The crowd joined in jeering the plundering politicians of both the present and the past, perfectly exemplified by Chavit Singson.

Speech is the artillery of a people who wish to rally in peace—without bloodshed, without the wrecking of public spaces, and without the trademarks of a modern-day Indio. Protesters in Mendiola may have started the day wishing for a similar outcome, but understanding the site’s history of violent demonstrations may have also prepared them for the worst (as I was, with my first-aid kit).

Ang Kasalanan ni Cain

“Hindi sapat ang apoy ng damdamin para magpatuloy ang himagsikan,” declared the Ilustrado to the young general. The doctor still looked dapper even inside the cell. “Uulitin ko ang sinabi ko kay Don Pio. Hindi kayo handa [...] Wala kayong suporta ng mga mayayaman.” Here ended Pingkian and Rizal’s game of chess with the young general at the losing end.

Back online, it was clear that many were dismayed by the havoc in Mendiola, convinced it was unnecessary, even stupid, since it meant destroying public property funded by taxpayers’ money. But as others quickly pointed out, anger—especially from someone with nearly nothing to lose—can ignite into action like lightning. And if it seemed as though these individuals had forgotten that the police are also human and were simply “doing their job,” then what do you make of the senators, congressmen, and former presidents who have so brazenly disregarded the humanity of the marginalized?

To us who end the day in a comfortable bed or have the luxury to leave the rally to catch a play booked a month ahead, it’s easier to have a distaste for chaos just as Rizal probably shared behind his resolute opposition to a premature revolution.

I have yet to hear of a demonstration where there were zero casualties. DILG Secretary Jonvic Remulla tried to brainwash the public that such was the case last Sunday, but videos of police firing shots circulated, the bloodied street was caught on camera, and over 200 individuals were arrested faster than the people behind the flood control anomalies.

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The Sacrifice of Change

There are about 116.7 million Filipinos today, with an estimated hundred thousand people nationwide who went out of their way to join the protest last Sunday. Granted, there are many forms of protests, but the view of the crowds from the drones was breathtaking, and yet should not be the end of our clamor.

The change we so long for depends significantly on a people’s collective perseverance and pakikipagkapwa, with the latter formed first in a person’s character. And this is where I, as a singular unit, am tempted to question and reflect upon the limitations of the widespread individualism today.

There are hard truths we must all face: First, that comfort can deafen a person to the cries of those who have none. Second, that to reclaim the humanity of all, we must first overcome the greed that drives us to seek too much for ourselves. Finally, change often comes at the risk of our present way of life, and for some, at the cost of their very lives. The responsibility to see change through lies in the hands of those who still get to witness the sunrise.

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Here is an interesting trivia: Did you know that in an interview with Amnesty International dictator and former president Marcos Sr. himself claimed that about 50,000 people were detained under martial law? And while martial law wasn’t the main topic for last Sunday, the dictator’s son and current president has much to prove if he wishes to change our views and comparison between him and his father.

It is one thing to learn history from books, quite another to encounter it through something as artful and emotional as a musical, and entirely different to find ourselves in the midst of it.

Nobody is given the choice to be born under their own terms. We are handed our individual conditions, our own gifts like Jacinto with his wit for words and fire for action. In the end, how we act, uphold the rights of everyone, and hold people accountable are what matter.

“May mapapala ba sa pag-rally?” There better be.