Surviving college under martial law

CLASSES HAVE resumed.

Possessed with a clearance from the Philippine Constabulary (PC) – but only after the ritual romanza militar ­-- and remanded to the care of the good Apu Ceto, rector of the Mother of Good Counsel Seminary, the activist also known as “Carlos” is readmitted to the Assumption College in San Fernando. Only to find a whole new world totally alien from the bastion of academic freedom the Catholic school once prided itself to be.

For one, the ROTC – Reserved Officers Training Course – taken all too lightly for a “real” course, if at all, assumed premiership. Where, in one semester, I earned three-unit credits for “special assignment” read: janitorial work at the commandant’s office in plain school uniform, I now had to wear military fatigues and required to salute every officer I meet on campus. Not to mention undergoing all those drills and marches with a heavy Garand M-1 on my shoulder.

Campus militarization finds coupling with ideological re-orientation with the institutionalization of the Bagong Lipunan hymn as second to the Lupang Hinirang in flag rites. Aye, the former even assumed some precedence what with it being required even during classes.

And yes, you can pass ROTC only if you can sing it from memory:

May bagong silang, may bago nang buhay

Bagong bansa, bagong galaw

Sa Bagong Lipunan…  

Magbabago ang lahat, tungo sa pag-unlad

At ating itanghal, Bagong Lipunan.

Ang gabi'y nagmaliw nang ganap 
At lumipas na ang magdamag 
Madaling araw ay nagdiriwang 
May umagang namasdan
Ngumiti ang pag-asa 
Sa umagang anong ganda! 
May bagong silang…

Which meaning we – silently, but of course – totally bastardized by merely supplanting the letter B with the letter G in the lyrics, thus:

May gagong silang, may gago nang buhay

Gagong bansa, gagong galaw

Sa gagong lipunan…

Mag-gagago ang lahat…

Aye, there was some fun even in those the most terrifying of times.

For us who were remanded to the custody of persons of authority or influence, the PC required that we reported to the provincial command weekly for the first three months, fortnightly for another three months and then monthly until they told us we were “cleared.”

The reporting covered our activities – classes in school, church service, movies, visits, etc., and – more important to the military – persons we met. Of course, these comprised mostly of classmates and teachers.

Talk of quality education!               

Our Rizal Class, where the national hero’s counter-revolutionary leanings vis-à-vis the “correctness” of the “real national hero” Bonifacio’s proletarian revolution made the pith of the discussions, were reduced to the absurdity of debates on who Rizal loved more, Leonor Rivera or Josephine Bracken?

Alas, AB Political Science was unceremoniously abolished, prompting me to shift to AB-English where my Essay Writing class consisted mainly of paeans to Ferdinand the Great and Imelda the Beautiful.  

The semester following the Proclamation 1081 found me taking the editorship of the school paper Regina, to the utter dismay and the greatest sorrow of the college administration.

Expressly forbidden to comment on anything but the good and beautiful about the New Society – the Department of Public Information and the PC seeing to it that we toed the line – our anti-Establishment angst had to be ventilated somewhat.

So, we found in the college president, the vice presidents, the registrar, the deans and professors alternative targets.

I cannot recall now which I frequented more, the office of the college president – where I was made to explain every article in the paper deemed critical of the college administration, or the Home Defense Unit of the Philippine Constabulary – where, with our moderator – Ms. June Velez-Belmonte – I had to present the blueprints of the paper before taking it to the printing press for a thorough review by military censors of all the articles, pictures or illustrations, blacking out any that could even be remotely considered “subversive.”

Yeah, we had issues with blacked out sections.      

Cry press freedom? We just cried.

No tears to still shed though, on this the 45^th anniversary of Marcos’ martial law. Only the resolve to fight that it never happened again. 

Nunquam iterum!