A trace of memory
Napoleon Bonaparte once said that “history is a set of lies agreed upon.” Perhaps another, but subtly different way to express this ambiguity is to conclude that history is a narrative where all the accusations are true. Nowhere is this better illustrated than the record of torture during the Marcos regime. The academic Alfred McCoy estimates that the number of summary executions under Marcos fell somewhere between the numbers of “desaparecidos” in Argentina and Brazil. He has no estimate for the number of people tortured and only a sketchy idea of the torture infrastructure itself. Most of his attention is concentrated on the activities of Colonel Rolando Abadilla and Rodolfo Aguinaldo, I think in part because M2 (Abadilla’s outfit which McCoy calls MISG) was responsible for interrogating many in the Left who were picked up in Manila and his sources naturally focused on that. Off McCoy’s radar are the provincial interrogators and the chain of command above Abadilla, which is linked, I think, to the ultimate question of who killed Ninoy Aquino. But despite any quibbles I might have with McCoy, it’s fairly well established that people were tortured and killed under Marcos and I knew some of them personally.
But even as that was happening, I was also aware that the Communist Party, by far the largest force in the underground, was also engaged in deadly purges. I sheltered some who survived, two of them in my first and smallest safe house; a closet really, in the district of Sampaloc. Though I didn’t know the scale of it then, they were apparently just the tip of the iceberg. A handy introduction into the parallel murder campaign of Jose Maria Sison can be gathered from this video. While it may be objected that the video is produced from the point of view of the Armed Forces of the Philippines, it must be fairly admitted that the charges leveled against the Communist Party are substantially true. In fact the widow of the former chief of its guerilla army filed a case against Supremo Sison for the murder of her husband. And I am informed, on good authority, that the Roman Catholic Church is compiling a better list of those killed by both sides.
Even after the fall of Marcos, the purge-killings by the Communists continued. The husband of a lady who now lives in Massachusetts, for example, was blinded and slowly cut to pieces in the mountain provinces for what reason I wot not, before he was killed. The Red hit squads grew increasingly bold and were openly going into meetings at which Sison’s communist rivals were speaking to mark them for subsequent liquidation.
It’s an eerie feeling to read about killings in the rival historical accounts — by the left and the right — and to realize that you recognize more than a few names. It also underscores the absence of a first rate history of the period; one that is desperately needed to save the narrative of that time from being retold in posterish and partisan colors. For the underground was not a monolithic thing. Like its French Resistance counterpart, it was divided into factions, who agreed only on the nature of the principal enemy — Marcos at the time — and disagreed on almost everything else.
But to return to Napoleon’s views on history: the story of murder and torture in the Philippines between 1972 and 1990 is not so much a problem of fictions but of simultaneous and parallel truths. Both the Communists and Marcos killed their enemies ruthlessly; they employed torture without a second thought. In a word they waged war the way insurgencies and counterinsurgencies have always waged them: with no quarter asked and none given.
As one might well imagine how the blacks and whites turned into shades of gray. It was a world in which one might take the “moral” decision to withhold participation in an anti-government activity because it would expose your people to capture and suffering; and also a world where a moral man might take gun in hand to take out an informer himself rather than fob the job off on someone else. You saved and destroyed; evaded and took responsibility. It was a universe in which courage was often expended in the service of farce. I knew an operative who was ordered to rescue the secret files of “higher organs” from a compromised safe house and salvaged them to find they were boxes of Penthouse Magazine. I had the great good fortune, in this topsy-turvey world, of never having had to take a life. Of all the blessings that God ever gave me, and I use the word unashamedly, it was to have been spared the necessity of having to do that that I value the most. In the movies you always know who the good guys and the bad guys are. But in the world of grays there are only degrees of probability.
I sometimes wonder, standing before the cheap cenotaph to the underground casualties on the corner of Quezon Boulevard and the EDSA, and looking at the names on dirty concrete, whether I’ll ever see any of them again: Sonny, Rey, Manny or Caloy, to name a few. In idle moments, you wonder whether past some bar the two guys I sheltered from a purge will greet me on some celestial cloudbank with a story I only half-remember. At times I’ve asked myself, if I didn’t find the money for the guy who went up to mountain province to start his agricultural project, whether he would be alive today and living in Massachusetts. At least his widow got his clothes back.
We live I think, at the price of guilt. And without introducing terms like damnation and redemption into the world we are left, like a weak system of mathematics, with only undecidable propositions. Perhaps faith is the art of tentative answers. What did you back then daddy? Well son, darned if I know. And maybe danged if we ever knew. But we did it anyway.
Rooming in Belmont, Mass
“I sheltered some who survived”
So, not only do you have a fat brain, but also nuts the size of water buffalos. My hat is off to you, W.
You have GOT to put this in a book.
I agree, as a service to everyone please write your biography. As a story it would be amazing, if it a fraction as perceptive as this blog it it will also be uplifting and erudite. Please!
Thank you for sharing that Richard. Those of us who have been spared truly hard times can prepare, and learn to be ready should the moments come, by listening to the stories of those who lived through the times that came before.
OT: Thanks for your postings of The Seekers; I’ve downloaded a few of their songs via iTunes and now Durham’s voice again chills me as it used to ‘way back when. Nostalgia ain’t what it used to be but it still comes close.
one of the universal atributes of communism where ever it rears its ugly head is canibalism. it has allways been an idealogy that eventually needs to eat its own, even while outsiders IE a society or government is trying to eradicate the communist cancer.
communism allways brings death.
Blessed are the merciful, for they shall receive mercy.
I heard a story a few years ago about a recent Christmas day aboard an aircraft carrier. The speaker system blared out: “Greetings on Christmas Day! Peace and good will to all men of good will everywhere. All others, stand by!”
Faith is the living the great “as though” something that is unknowable is knowable and true.
Even the nihilists are faithful, to the idea that nothing really exists.
hey
so maybe its time we begin to teach our ”trophy kids” that war means just that… war. is there no doubt why the msm kept dogging the bullet during the course of afghanistan and iraq. tough to bullshit yourself when the three magic letters are strung together.
the most peaceful man i have ever encountered was my dad. spanish republican refrugee, he arrived in the u.s via the help of a jesuit cousin in cuba and finished university in june ’41. he volunteered for the u.s army in dec. 41 and after 5 years of war in the pacific decided two things.
1/ he would accept u.s citizenship and make the u.s. his beloved home.
2// he would teach his kids that the Japs were forever the bastards they proved themselves to be for 5 long years…and yes he served in the P.I. and saw the results of Jap occupation in 3D.
so…call a spade a spade and you get those old time feelings that few can ”wish away” like our current group of lefty assholes dealing with the ”war on terror”.
Black Moses is months from getting his wake-up call. in arabic it is said…weakness is a scent stronger than death. so very true. i long to see that arrogant prick crestfallen with massive american deaths on his watch. ditto his fat ass Vogue “model” wife !!!
Hmmm, history as “not so much a problem of fictions but of simultaneous and parallel truths.”
Quite correct, as a look at Napoleon’s own time would establish. The French Royalists of la Vendee have their own stories and tales of suffering at the hands of the Republic, but that has been mostly forgotten until relatively recently. Napoleon himself would probably argue that his side’s version of diplomatic history, on the rights and wrongs of Imperial France in say, the decision to invade Russia — are short changed by modern historians.
I suppose history wind up to a degree as special-pleading for one side or the other because (1) historians have opinions too; and, (2) what they write is governed by what sources they have access to. The sins of the Marcos regime already have reels and reems of paper published on them, those of the Communists in the Philippines, not.
In many ways you are indeed a blessed man. Thanks for the dialogue.
And Richard can write with a stylish turn, too: “wot not,” indeed!
Ultimately we rely on faithful witnesses . . . Wiesel, Orwell, Solzhenitsyn, Yon . . . to give us our bearings. History may be a set of lies agreed upon, but we still need and need to honor faithful historians, mindful that no one knows everything.
There’s still a big, good middle in American life, but it seems to be geting polarized. The ‘straw man’ arguments of Obama are not helpful, to use an Obamaism, in validating the middle. For Obama to say to bankers, moreover, that he is the only thing “standing between them and the pitchforks” is to suggest and even invite scapegoating. But internationalist socialists and national socialists, not to mention feudal capitalists (ask the Columbians) all need their scapegoats to provide cover and release tension.
Does the Obama administration seek scapegoats? Ask Cheney.
As Richard says, “Perhaps faith is the art of tentative answers.” Traditionalists live with ambiguity, deferring ultimate meaning and the sorting out of things to God. Without a belief in God, and a deferring of judgment to God, temporal leaders need to provide justice now.
The folks with the pitchforks don’t want the pitchfork-ees fighting back with guns, however. Hence the op-ed piece by Jimmy in the NYT today.
It also underscores the absence of a first rate history of the period; one that is desperately needed to save the narrative of that time from being retold in posterish and partisan colors.
Agreed. I wonder if any of us here know someone who lived through that and knows how to write? Perhaps we could persuade him.
I suspect he would demur a bit, saying that his account would of necessity be too narrow, highlighting the parts he knew at the expense of other views. Possibly, but it might spark enough interest for that “first rate” history of the whole to be written. My hunch is that this is the right time, as the people who lived through it are at just about the right historical distance – still able to recall details but no longer quite so unwilling to do so.
Wretchard,
Good on ya mate. I believe you have a fully developed comprehension of the real world, not simply from educational sources, but from the doing of deeeds others have never done. It, as you know, makes all the difference in the world. I salute you sir and may your days be filled with peace, great health ,and happiness.
Dude -
You’ve lived a life far more exciting than mine. Thanks for sharing.
Bill
http://willstuff.wordpress.com
mark @ 12:
“Traditionalists live with ambiguity, deferring ultimate meaning and the sorting out of things to God. Without a belief in God, and a deferring of judgment to God, temporal leaders need to provide justice now.”
They cannot. Absent faith they are flailing in the dark. Man’s faith is what mitigates between his intellect and his appetite, his head and his stomach. It resides in his heart. Absent faith, they are men without chests. (Honor to CS Lewis.) It is a fearsome thing to be ruled by someone who doesnt know when he wakes up in the morning which, appetite or intellect, will guide his decisions for the day.
I only ran into two guys who had to flee the Philippines because Marcos was after theme in a lethal way.
Firmo Dayao, then a priest, fled Cebu when he was informed at the last minute that Marcos & Co was going to ‘salvage’ him. Somehow they’d discovered that he was running safe houses.
By the time I met him, 1983, he’d left the priesthood and was pursuing mammon and politics. Firmo was the number one activist in Honolulu leading the protests from the Consulate towards downtown. It was great theatre.
Ironically, Marcos & Family fled through Hawaii on the way out of the Philippines. An extra heavy security detail was laid on.
As for mammon: Firmo turned nickels into dollars by getting his clients into the Philippine National Telephone Company and the like. Marcos had been plundering these enterprises to the limit.
At the height of his professional success he left it all to reinvigorate the economy of Cebu. He was able to get his buddy Alvin Garcia elected as Mayor. He himself became a Councilman.
Unfortunately Firmo never divulged any details of his priestly activities.
—-
Richard and Firmo know ground truth. Perhaps one day you’ll publish your accounts.
What a storied history must of lead between the young lad in the lower left and the seasoned man in the upper right.
I never tire of these vignettes of your life.
“i long to see that arrogant prick crestfallen with massive american deaths on his watch.”
Sorry to hear this. I for one hope it doesn’t happen. Not for the partisan politics of it but for the many good people who deserve better.
The Marcos “salvagers” were rather like
mafia enforcers or some of the drug cartels.
Could be and were hazardous but their depradations were limited to gaining and holding material wealth.
Ditto for the “Dante” wing of the NPA.
It was the JOMA wing that Commentary Magazine rightfully called “the New Khmer Rouge”. What they did was not limited to protecting Sison but was for the primary purpose of ideological purity. That is why they wrote a disproportionate number of horror stories.
Their often grisly methods of executions were tantamount to consecrating their souls to Lucifer. It was to make them believe that there was no turning back, no forgiveness and no redemption.
It was, IMO, the Alsa Masa vigilantes, (formed by a Muslim AFP Special Forces Colonel
who was a good buddy of P. J. O’Rourke) that were the critical element in undoing all this.
And yes, Marcos had to go before any corrective measures could be undertaken. He made a career out of talking an anti-communist line while doing them favors behind the scenes.
Finally, do not underestimate the amount of danger Mr. Fernandez himself was in at times.
He was necessarily doing things that would antagonize all the undersirables. In addition to which, portions of the State Department considered him and his comrades
inimical to these United States.
He obviously came through due to brains, balls
and a fully-employed Guardian Angel. And saved Uncle Sam’s posterior in the meantime.
‘Nuff said.
Given that I post a while, lurk a while, then am away awhile… lather, rinse, repeat… I’ve never heard why this space is named The Belmont Club.
Now I note the caption under the photo “Rooming in Belmont, Mass”… and see the smile on its subject… and I’m guessing that “Belmont Club” harkens back to fond memories of Belmont, Massachusetts…
Richard, thank you for sharing this.
The Mamas & The Papas – Monday Monday
Ecclesiastes 1 (New International Version)
Ecclesiastes 1
Everything Is Meaningless
1 The words of the Teacher, [a] son of David, king in Jerusalem:
2 “Meaningless! Meaningless!”
says the Teacher.
“Utterly meaningless!
Everything is meaningless.”
3 What does man gain from all his labor
at which he toils under the sun?
4 Generations come and generations go,
but the earth remains forever.
5 The sun rises and the sun sets,
and hurries back to where it rises.
6 The wind blows to the south
and turns to the north;
round and round it goes,
ever returning on its course.
7 All streams flow into the sea,
yet the sea is never full.
To the place the streams come from,
there they return again.
8 All things are wearisome,
more than one can say.
The eye never has enough of seeing,
nor the ear its fill of hearing.
9 What has been will be again,
what has been done will be done again;
there is nothing new under the sun.
10 Is there anything of which one can say,
“Look! This is something new”?
It was here already, long ago;
it was here before our time.
11 There is no remembrance of men of old,
and even those who are yet to come
will not be remembered
by those who follow.
Wisdom Is Meaningless
12 I, the Teacher, was king over Israel in Jerusalem. 13 I devoted myself to study and to explore by wisdom all that is done under heaven. What a heavy burden God has laid on men! 14 I have seen all the things that are done under the sun; all of them are meaningless, a chasing after the wind.
15 What is twisted cannot be straightened;
what is lacking cannot be counted.
16 I thought to myself, “Look, I have grown and increased in wisdom more than anyone who has ruled over Jerusalem before me; I have experienced much of wisdom and knowledge.” 17 Then I applied myself to the understanding of wisdom, and also of madness and folly, but I learned that this, too, is a chasing after the wind.
18 For with much wisdom comes much sorrow;
the more knowledge, the more grief.
Ecclesiastes 2 (New International Version)
Ecclesiastes 2
Pleasures Are Meaningless
1 I thought in my heart, “Come now, I will test you with pleasure to find out what is good.” But that also proved to be meaningless. 2 “Laughter,” I said, “is foolish. And what does pleasure accomplish?” 3 I tried cheering myself with wine, and embracing folly—my mind still guiding me with wisdom. I wanted to see what was worthwhile for men to do under heaven during the few days of their lives.
4 I undertook great projects: I built houses for myself and planted vineyards. 5 I made gardens and parks and planted all kinds of fruit trees in them. 6 I made reservoirs to water groves of flourishing trees. 7 I bought male and female slaves and had other slaves who were born in my house. I also owned more herds and flocks than anyone in Jerusalem before me. 8 I amassed silver and gold for myself, and the treasure of kings and provinces. I acquired men and women singers, and a harem [a] as well—the delights of the heart of man. 9 I became greater by far than anyone in Jerusalem before me. In all this my wisdom stayed with me.
10 I denied myself nothing my eyes desired;
I refused my heart no pleasure.
My heart took delight in all my work,
and this was the reward for all my labor.
11 Yet when I surveyed all that my hands had done
and what I had toiled to achieve,
everything was meaningless, a chasing after the wind;
nothing was gained under the sun.
Wisdom and Folly Are Meaningless
12 Then I turned my thoughts to consider wisdom,
and also madness and folly.
What more can the king’s successor do
than what has already been done?
13 I saw that wisdom is better than folly,
just as light is better than darkness.
14 The wise man has eyes in his head,
while the fool walks in the darkness;
but I came to realize
that the same fate overtakes them both.
15 Then I thought in my heart,
“The fate of the fool will overtake me also.
What then do I gain by being wise?”
I said in my heart,
“This too is meaningless.”
16 For the wise man, like the fool, will not be long remembered;
in days to come both will be forgotten.
Like the fool, the wise man too must die!
Toil Is Meaningless
17 So I hated life, because the work that is done under the sun was grievous to me. All of it is meaningless, a chasing after the wind. 18 I hated all the things I had toiled for under the sun, because I must leave them to the one who comes after me. 19 And who knows whether he will be a wise man or a fool? Yet he will have control over all the work into which I have poured my effort and skill under the sun. This too is meaningless. 20 So my heart began to despair over all my toilsome labor under the sun. 21 For a man may do his work with wisdom, knowledge and skill, and then he must leave all he owns to someone who has not worked for it. This too is meaningless and a great misfortune. 22 What does a man get for all the toil and anxious striving with which he labors under the sun? 23 All his days his work is pain and grief; even at night his mind does not rest. This too is meaningless.
24 A man can do nothing better than to eat and drink and find satisfaction in his work. This too, I see, is from the hand of God, 25 for without him, who can eat or find enjoyment? 26 To the man who pleases him, God gives wisdom, knowledge and happiness, but to the sinner he gives the task of gathering and storing up wealth to hand it over to the one who pleases God. This too is meaningless, a chasing after the wind.
The Byrds – Turn! Turn! Turn!
Hat Tip: Napoleon Bonaparte, “History, as a set of lies agreed upon”
Oswald, acting alone, shot JFK.
Oswald, acting alone, shot Officer Tippet.
Jack Ruby, soft-hearted mob guy, acting alone, shot Oswald.
Oswald’s pristine, magic bullet, acting alone caused multiple wounds in both JFK and Governor Connally.
You can’t fool all the folk all the time, mostly just the elite and their brain-dead fans.
One wonders what would happen if Communists were publicly put on trial for torture and other atrocities.
Wouldn’t it be interesting if there were a televised exposé of atrocities committed by Che Guevara, including the gory detail of exactly what he did?
I agree that there may well be two sides to history. Unfortunately, as your post shows, the left has been winning the battle for a long time.
Wow. Great post.
“Thou mayest….”
Richard, I had been away from the Belmont Club for some time, but something tonight drove me to come here. What a lucky strike, to read this wonderful essay, thank you.
BTW, I was in Belmont 3 weeks ago. :- )
Great post, W.
Perhaps faith is the art of tentative answers.
I’ve always thought that reality is like a a set of nonlinear partial differential equations, sort of like a much more complex version of the Navier-Stokes equations. It can’t be solved as-is, so we are all forced to throw out terms to make the problem tractable. Trying to solve it as-is will simply drive us crazy.
Thing is, different people throw out different terms, but not all simplifications are equally valid. Throwing out the wrong term will give you a really wrong answer. Sure, the problem is solvable, but the answer is not true. (Kind of a variation on Gödel.)
In the end, then, our world view is defined by what we ignore. So choosing what to ignore is the art of faith, an art that relies on both Athens and Jerusalem. But while all answers are indeed tentative, if we ignore the right terms we never stray too far from the truth.
And that is a comforting thought, especially when we are confronted with evil.
Cheers,
L3
Richard, you have the insight and ability to write a personal record as illuminating as Barea’s “Forging of a Rebel,” and I hope you’ll do so.
Richard,
You’re the real thing. Thank you.
Thanks for sharing. Write the whole thing. It is a history that needs to be written.
L3 – “…different people throw out different terms…” OR …and a miracle occurred…
Reality cannot be codified in strictly mathematical terms, the systems are too chaotic.
The NPA are still kidnapping and killing.
But the left doesn’t care if a barangay captain is killed, or if the commies decide to make money by being hit men for cash so that a local politician wins an election.
Ahh, adventure! The favorite spectator sport of the masses!
For people like Habu and Richard adventure flicks must seem comedic. That usually seems to be the case for those who have “suffered” real adventures.
Richard you are a heck of a man. This is why you and just about all of the commenters on this site keep me coming back. I almost never miss a post.
Salaam eleikum Y’all!
The Thunder Run has linked to this post in the – Web Reconnaissance for 04/28/2009 A short recon of what’s out there that might draw your attention, updated throughout the day…so check back often.
wretchard, i had a very short golden gloves experience as a teen –i would’ve sized you up as a puncher (they always have that shoulder) and would’ve tried to keep outside your radius and circling to your left (unless you is a southpaw).
Robohobo,
Reality cannot be codified in strictly mathematical terms, the systems are too chaotic.
Agreed. I meant to use math as an analogy.
Cheers,
L3
I’m no puncher, but nearly fooled myself into thinking it once. I had a ’68 Beetle as a kid. My first car, decades old, leaking oil, etc and I was fixing it inside a lot — spent more time fixing it than driving it — accessible from a driveway leading from the street. Imagine my surprise when a car came in and hit it, denting the bumper. A guy got down from the car pointing his finger at me and cussing, and I gave him a left and right. To my astonishment, every tooth in his head flew out. He was wearing dentures. We were both so shocked that by mutual consent, we suspended the fisticuffs and crawled all around the grass until we found every tooth. I remember putting a little pile of teeth in his palm.
The next day he showed up to apologize. He was drunk the night before. As for myself, I felt really sorry for him. So the truth is that no one is any danger of losing any teeth in a fight with me, unless you’re wearing dentures.
heh –i had a 68 Beetle too –red. great mudder –never did figure out why, it should’ve been too lite. traded it for a jeep, which with four wheel drive still wasn’t as good off road. they ought to bring the Beetle back –now more than ever. Along with the P-47 Thunderbolt.
Wretchard #42
LMAO! I had a ’62 VW Beetle. She was my love bug, took my girlfriend down a lot of dirt roads! Like buddy larson, she was grat in the dirt!, my girlfriend too!
buddy, we need the P-47 more right now than the F-22! Dang!
Salaam eleikum!!!!
marzouq, we could build 500 of ‘em for one F-22 –think of the JOBS! and low and slow, hard to knock down, imperv to heat-seekers, and armed with eight –count ‘em –eight M2 .5mm machine guns (really, light cannon sinch they csn fire explosive shells)!
Buddy,
Not only that but with the new materials available, the P-47 would weigh 1/2 of the WWII version!
Of course, the A-10 production line could be easier to reactivate. I love that “ugly bitch” too!
Salaam Sir, Marzouq out!