One Past, Many Histories: The Complexity of Historical Narratives

(Lessons for Second Term Examination)

History is often presented as a linear narrative—a straightforward recounting of events that

shapes our understanding of the past. However, the reality is far more intricate. The concept
of "one past, many histories" invites us to embrace the multiplicity of narratives that emerge
from the same events, revealing the rich tapestry of human experience. This perspective
challenges us to recognize that history is not merely a collection of facts but a dynamic
interplay of stories shaped by the diverse backgrounds, beliefs, and experiences of
individuals and communities.

A compelling example of this complexity can be found in the ongoing debate over the site of
the first Mass in the Philippines. Traditionally believed to have occurred in Butuan, this
narrative was challenged in 1960 when a proposal suggested Limasawa as the actual site.
Although this proposal gained traction, the corresponding Republic Act was never signed,
leaving the debate unresolved for decades. Finally, in 2020, a decision was made to officially
recognize Limasawa as the site of the first Mass, endorsed by the Philippine president.
However, this resolution does not signify the end of the discussion; it illustrates how
historical narratives can evolve and be reinterpreted over time.

This example underscores that history is not static; it is a living dialogue that can change as
new evidence or perspectives emerge. Established narratives can be reevaluated, and the
consensus can shift. For instance, while the current belief places the first Mass in Limasawa,
who can say what future scholarship might reveal? This fluidity emphasizes that just because
a narrative is widely accepted today does not mean it will hold the same status in the future.
Historical truths can change, reflecting shifts in cultural understanding, scholarship, and
societal values.

In the realm of historical fact, consensus among authoritative historians often determines
what is accepted as truth. When a majority of scholars endorse a particular narrative, it gains
legitimacy. However, alternative viewpoints—those held by a minority—should not be
dismissed outright. Just because a narrative is not widely accepted today does not render it
false. A good historian exercises caution and refrains from hasty judgments, understanding
that history is continually evolving.

This perspective invites us to reconsider notions of "right" and "wrong" in historical

discourse. There is no absolute authority that dictates a single truth about the past; rather,
historical narratives exist along a spectrum of interpretation. What may seem like an
unpopular or fringe perspective today could very well become the accepted narrative of
tomorrow. As new evidence emerges and societal values shift, our understanding of history
may transform in ways we cannot yet predict.
Engaging with multiple narratives enriches our comprehension of history, revealing the
myriad ways events can shape lives. For instance, while the Philippine Revolution against
Spanish colonial rule can be viewed as a fight for independence, it is also a complex social
movement driven by various factions with competing interests. Each interpretation sheds
light on the motivations, aspirations, and challenges faced by the revolutionaries and the
impact of their actions on future generations.

This multiplicity of perspectives is crucial not only for academic study but also for societal
growth. Acknowledging the complexity of history fosters empathy and understanding among
diverse groups, allowing for greater dialogue and reconciliation. In societies marked by
historical injustices, such as the Philippines, understanding these diverse narratives can
pave the way for healing and unity. It encourages us to confront uncomfortable truths while
recognizing the shared humanity that binds us.

Furthermore, embracing multiple narratives prompts critical thinking. As we navigate the

complexities of history, we learn to question dominant narratives, seek out marginalized
voices, and analyze the power dynamics at play. This critical engagement is essential in an
age where misinformation can easily distort our understanding of the past. By honing our
analytical skills, we become more discerning consumers of historical information, better
equipped to navigate contemporary issues rooted in historical contexts.

In conclusion, the notion of "one past, many histories" serves as a powerful reminder of the
complexity of human experience. History is not a monolith, but a multifaceted tapestry
woven from countless threads of narrative. By embracing this complexity, we can develop a
deeper appreciation for the richness of our shared past. Recognizing the interplay of thesis,
antithesis, and synthesis in historical narratives not only enriches our understanding but
also empowers us to build a more inclusive and empathetic society. As we engage with
diverse histories, we honor the experiences of all individuals and communities, paving the
way for a more comprehensive and meaningful exploration of our shared humanity.
Data on the teaching and delivery of Proclamation No. 1081 or the declaration of Martial Law
in the country

1. Name of HEI: Saint Mary’s University Bayombong, Nueva Vizcaya

2. GE Subject where Martial Law is discussed: GHist: Readings in Philippine History

3. Hours devoted in discussing martial law as a (sub) topic: 2 hours

Martial Law is discussed not as a main topic but as a subtopic. It is covered under two
chapters of the GHist Syllabus.

One of the chapters is Chapter III: Content and Contextual Analysis of Selected Primary
Sources. Two readings are included as resources: the speech of former President Corazon Aquino
before the U.S. Congress in 1986, which discusses the declaration of Martial Law, and the diary
of former President Ferdinand Marcos, Sr., which presents his perspective on how and why he
proclaimed Martial Law. The main focus, however, is on the content and contextual analysis of
these primary sources. The speech of President Aquino and the diary of President Marcos are
provided as readings/examples. Approximately one hour is allotted for the discussion of Martial
Law in this part.

Another chapter is Chapter V: Social, Political, Economic, and Cultural Issues in Philippine
History. Martial Law is discussed under the Philippine Constitution, particularly the 1973 and
1987 constitutions. Similarly, about one hour is dedicated to discussing Martial Law in this part.
(See attached GHist Syllabus for more information)

4. How Martial Law is taught

1. Teaching Martial Law through Primary Sources

Martial Law is taught as part of the content analysis of the speech of former President
Corazon Aquino before the U.S. Congress in 1986 and the diary of former President Ferdinand
Marcos, Sr. Aquino's speech, which addresses the declaration and impact of Martial Law,
provides a poignant reflection on the period from a leader who succeeded Marcos. Conversely,
Marcos's diary entries offer a personal account of his rationale for declaring Martial Law, giving
insight into his perspective and the socio-political climate of the time. By examining these
primary sources, students engage in content and contextual analysis, assessing the motivations,
language, and historical context behind these documents.

2. Teaching Martial Law through Constitutional Discussions

Martial Law is also taught as part of discussions regarding the 1973 and 1987 Philippine
constitutions. The 1973 constitution, enacted under Marcos, institutionalized his regime's
authoritarian policies, while the 1987 constitution, established after the People Power
Revolution, aimed to restore democratic governance and prevent the recurrence of such
 authoritarian rule. Approximately one hour is dedicated to exploring how Martial Law influenced
these constitutional changes, highlighting the legal and political ramifications. This examination
helps students understand the broader implications of Martial Law on the country's legal
framework and governance.

Summary

Martial Law is taught in an objective manner and with sensitivity, ensuring historical
accuracy, critical analysis, and balanced understanding. Discussions are presented without bias
and supported by evidence from reputable authors and institutions. This approach allows
students to engage with multiple perspectives and develop an open-mind and holistic
understanding of Martial Law's impact on Philippine history.

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Diary Notes of Ferdinand E. Marcos

Sept. 22, 1972, Friday, 9:55 p.m.

9.50 PM, Sept. 22, 1972 (Friday)

Malacañan Palace
Manila

Sec. Juan Ponce Enrile was ambushed near Wack-Wack at about 8:00 pm tonight. It was a
good thing he was riding in his security car as a protective measure. His first car which he
usually uses was the one riddled by bullets from a car parked in ambush.

He is now at his DND office. I have advised him to stay there.

And I have doubled the security of Imelda in the Nayon Pilipino where she is giving dinner
to the UPI and AP as well as other wire services.

This makes the martial law proclamation a necessity.

Imelda arrived at 11:35 PM in my Electra bullet proof car to be told that Johnny had been
ambushed, it is all over the radio.

Congress is not adjourning tonight as the conference committee on the Tariff and Customs
Code could not agree on a common version. They adjourn tomorrow.

I conferred with Speaker Villareal, Roces, Yñiguez and Barbero who are going to Moscow and
they are ready to leave on Sunday. So they are decided to finish the session same.
Senate President Gil Puyat insists that the next special session be early January.

And they will not be able to pass the urgent bills like the rehabilitation bill.
It was strange, I thought. There were no newspapers and no radio broadcasts in the morning.
At about 8:00 a.m., the Korean, Moonkyoo Kang, and Pura Calo, a Filipino, who were jointly
running the ALDEC, visited me at my house and asked me how I felt. I told them that I was
quite disappointed last night with the SCM in that in trying to set a new reading of the gospel,
they seemed to have given a Christian organization, the Student Christian Movement, a neo-
Maoist strain. I believe in a theology of liberation, I hastened to add; but liberation in Christ,
not through a forcible overthrow of government.

“Obviously, you have not heard the news,” they exclaimed. “Martial law has already been
declared.”
I nearly fell off my seat!
Martial law declared? Impossible!
“Yes, it is true. That is the reason why there are no newspapers and why radio stations are
not in operation.”

Forthwith, I rang up my friend, Solicitor-General Estelito Mendoza, to find out if this were
true. Titong was out of the house but his wife, Rosie, said this is probably true. She added
that Defense Minister Enrile was ambushed yesterday afternoon. By whom?
I told her that I was, in fact, preparing to address the meeting of the Christians Concerned for
civil liberties at the St. Joseph’s College today. Rosie advised me to stay home and not attend
the meeting.
I immediately tried to reach my friends—Sonny Alvarez first, but Sonny’s phone was busy.
Next, I tried calling up Sonia Aldeguer but I was not successful either in contacting her.
I got Pres. Pro-Tempore Sotero (Teroy) Laurel on the phone. Teroy confirmed that the news
is true. He had it from good authority: from his own brother, House of Representatives
Speaker Jose Laurel. He added that two of our fellow delegates have already been arrested,
namely, Nap Rama and Joe Mari Velez. Teroy suggested that we just meet more or less
socially but that in the meantime, we should lie low.

I called up Raul Manglapus; we have to plan on what we should do next.

I was informed that Raul had left for the U.S. a couple of days ago.
Next, I tried calling up Raul Roco, but Raul was out of the house. Fearful for his safety, I rang
up the home of his father-in-law, Congressman Malasarte. I was able to get his wife, Sonia,
who said that Raul had “gone out.”
I rang up Alejandro (Ding) Lichauco, but Ding’s phone was busy.
I went to the Convention Hall. The streets were almost deserted. By late morning there were
still no newspapers, no radio broadcasts. In Quezon City, I saw two cars of soldiers with one
civilian on the front seat in each of the cars—obviously taken into custody.
There were some soldiers at the checkpoint near the Quezon Memorial Circle, but the
soldiers didn’t molest anyone.
At the Convention Hall, there was a note of hushed excitement, frustration and resignation.
Now the reality is sinking into our consciousness. Martial law has been proclaimed!
Rumors were rife that our most outspoken activist delegates, Voltaire Garcia, Joe Mari Velez,
Nap Rama, Ding Lichauco and Sonny Alvarez have been arrested. I met Convention Sec. Pepe
Abueva and he informed me that this was what he had also heard.
The whole day, practically, was spent by us tensely waiting for some news. All sorts of
rumors were floating around.

It was repeatedly announced that President Marcos was going to give an important message
at 12:00 noon. Twelve o’clock came and went, and there was no news; there was only an
announcement that this was going to be made later. At 2:30 p.m., a new announcement came:
this would be done at 3:30 p.m. Then it was announced that due to the fact that documents
were still being looked over by the President and that TV sets were still being installed at
Malacañang, the message of the President was going to be later, between 6:30 p.m. and 7:00
p.m.

The people could hardly wait. At 7:00 p.m., over the radio, during dinner with the ALDEC
seminar participants, we heard President Marcos explaining the grounds for declaring
martial law as well as the general orders given to the secretary of national defense, Juan
Ponce Enrile, and to Press Sec. Francisco (Kit) Tatad. Tatad’s big face popped out on TV. He
read for more than an hour, in what seemed to us sinister monotone, the full text of the
presidential proclamation.
“Big Brother is watching us,” exclaimed one of the participants while looking at Tatad’s face
which filled the TV frame. But this is not 1984! George Orwell showed up too early in the
Philippines.
Tatad was continuously pouring out words that seemed to seal the fate of our people. We sat
there and listened in mingled fear and confusion.

Sadly and fearfully, we speculated on the possible fate of our militant friends who had spoken
at the ALDEC seminar, yesterday and day before yesterday. They must have been taken into
military custody already. Ding Lichauco must surely have been arrested, we conjectured, and
Dante Simbulan, likewise. Possibly also Dodong Nemenzo, we thought. The Korean,
Moonkyoo, tried to cheer us up. He has a tape of Ding Lichauco’s lecture and he said he would
tell everyone that he has the last lecture of Lichauco before he was arrested.
Sept. 23, 1972, Saturday
12:20PM
Sept. 23, 1972
Saturday

Malacañan Palace
Manila

Things have moved according to plan although out of the total 200 target personalities in the
plan only 52 have been arrested, including the three senators, Aquino, Diokno and Mitra and
Chino Roces and Teddy Locsin.
At 7:15 PM I finally appeared on a nationwide TV and Radio broadcast to announce the
proclamation of martial law, the general orders and instructions.
I place them in Envelope XXXV-C

I was supposed to broadcast at 12:00AM but technical difficulties prevented it. We had
closed all TV stations. We had to clear KBS which broadcast it live. VOP and PBS broadcast
it by radio nationwide.
The broadcast turned out rather well and Mons. Gaviola as well as the usual friends liked
it. But my most exacting critic, Imelda, found it impressing. I watched the replay at 9:00 PM.
I have amended curfew from 8-6 to 12-4.

Arms bearing outside residence without permit punishable by death.

Kits Tatad read the proclamation, the orders and the instructions after my talk.
Have started checking on Zone Commanders. Gen. Encarnacion of the IV does not seem to
have been systematic. He still talks of some people like Mayor Cabili criticizing the
proclamation of martial law as premature although grudgingly extending cooperation under
Gen. Order No. 3 for all offices to continue functioning.

Talked to Imee and Bongbong. London newspaper had it I arrested the opposition, no
mention of communists. And called up Sec. Romulo and Amb. Romualdez before them. New
York Times at least was sure handed and spoke of martial law after the attempt of
assassination of my Secretary of National Defense. Ordered all wire services and embassies
to be furnished the speech, proclamation, orders and instructions.
TRANSCRIPT:

Speech of Her Excellency Corazon C. Aquino President of the Philippines During the
Joint Session of the United States Congress
[Delivered at Washington, D.C., on September 18, 1986]

Three years ago, I left America in grief to bury my husband, Ninoy Aquino. I thought I had
left it also to lay to rest his restless dream of Philippine freedom. Today, I have returned as
the president of a free people.

In burying Ninoy, a whole nation honored him. By that brave and selfless act of giving honor,
a nation in shame recovered its own. A country that had lost faith in its future found it in a
faithless and brazen act of murder. So in giving, we receive, in losing we find, and out of
defeat, we snatched our victory.

For the nation, Ninoy became the pleasing sacrifice that answered their prayers for freedom.
For myself and our children, Ninoy was a loving husband and father. His loss, three times in
our lives, was always a deep and painful one.

Fourteen years ago this month was the first time we lost him. A president-turned-dictator,
and traitor to his oath, suspended the Constitution and shut down the Congress that was
much like this one before which I am honored to speak. He detained my husband along with
thousands of others – senators, publishers and anyone who had spoken up for the democracy
as its end drew near. But for Ninoy, a long and cruel ordeal was reserved. The dictator
already knew that Ninoy was not a body merely to be imprisoned but a spirit he must break.
For even as the dictatorship demolished one by one the institutions of democracy – the press,
the Congress, the independence of the judiciary, the protection of the Bill of Rights – Ninoy
kept their spirit alive in himself.

The government sought to break him by indignities and terror. They locked him up in a tiny,
nearly airless cell in a military camp in the north. They stripped him naked and held the
threat of sudden midnight execution over his head. Ninoy held up manfully–all of it. I barely
did as well. For 43 days, the authorities would not tell me what had happened to him. This
was the first time my children and I felt we had lost him.

When that didn’t work, they put him on trial for subversion, murder and a host of other
crimes before a military commission. Ninoy challenged its authority and went on a fast. If he
survived it, then, he felt, God intended him for another fate. We had lost him again. For
nothing would hold him back from his determination to see his fast through to the end. He
stopped only when it dawned on him that the government would keep his body alive after
the fast had destroyed his brain. And so, with barely any life in his body, he called off the fast
on the fortieth day. God meant him for other things, he felt. He did not know that an early
death would still be his fate, that only the timing was wrong.

At any time during his long ordeal, Ninoy could have made a separate peace with the
dictatorship, as so many of his countrymen had done. But the spirit of democracy that
inheres in our race and animates this chamber could not be allowed to die. He held out, in
the loneliness of his cell and the frustration of exile, the democratic alternative to the
insatiable greed and mindless cruelty of the right and the purging holocaust of the left.
And then, we lost him, irrevocably and more painfully than in the past. The news came to us
in Boston. It had to be after the three happiest years of our lives together. But his death was
my country’s resurrection in the courage and faith by which alone they could be free again.
The dictator had called him a nobody. Two million people threw aside their passivity and
escorted him to his grave. And so began the revolution that has brought me to democracy’s
most famous home, the Congress of the United States. The task had fallen on my shoulders
to continue offering the democratic alternative to our people.

Archibald Macleish had said that democracy must be defended by arms when it is attacked
by arms and by truth when it is attacked by lies. He failed to say how it shall be won.
I held fast to Ninoy’s conviction that it must be by the ways of democracy. I held out for
participation in the 1984 election the dictatorship called, even if I knew it would be rigged. I
was warned by the lawyers of the opposition that I ran the grave risk of legitimizing the
foregone results of elections that were clearly going to be fraudulent. But I was not fighting
for lawyers but for the people in whose intelligence I had implicit faith. By the exercise of
democracy, even in a dictatorship, they would be prepared for democracy when it came. And
then, also, it was the only way I knew by which we could measure our power even in the
terms dictated by the dictatorship.

The people vindicated me in an election shamefully marked by government thuggery and

fraud. The opposition swept the elections, garnering a clear majority of the votes, even if they
ended up, thanks to a corrupt Commission on Elections, with barely a third of the seats in
parliament. Now, I knew our power. Last year, in an excess of arrogance, the dictatorship
called for its doom in a snap election. The people obliged. With over a million signatures, they
drafted me to challenge the dictatorship. And I obliged them. The rest is the history that
dramatically unfolded on your television screen and across the front pages of your
newspapers.

You saw a nation, armed with courage and integrity, stand fast by democracy against threats
and corruption. You saw women poll watchers break out in tears as armed goons crashed
the polling places to steal the ballots but, just the same, they tied themselves to the ballot
boxes. You saw a people so committed to the ways of democracy that they were prepared to
give their lives for its pale imitation. At the end of the day, before another wave of fraud could
distort the results, I announced the people’s victory.

The distinguished co-chairman of the United States observer team in his report to your
President described that victory:
“I was witness to an extraordinary manifestation of democracy on the part of the Filipino
people. The ultimate result was the election of Mrs. Corazon C. Aquino as President and Mr.
Salvador Laurel as Vice-President of the Philippines.”
Many of you here today played a part in changing the policy of your country towards us. We,
Filipinos, thank each of you for what you did: for, balancing America’s strategic interest
against human concerns, illuminates the American vision of the world.
When a subservient parliament announced my opponent’s victory, the people turned out in
the streets and proclaimed me President. And true to their word, when a handful of military
leaders declared themselves against the dictatorship, the people rallied to their protection.
Surely, the people take care of their own. It is on that faith and the obligation it entails, that I
assumed the presidency.

As I came to power peacefully, so shall I keep it. That is my contract with my people and my
commitment to God. He had willed that the blood drawn with the lash shall not, in my
country, be paid by blood drawn by the sword but by the tearful joy of reconciliation.
We have swept away absolute power by a limited revolution that respected the life and
freedom of every Filipino. Now, we are restoring full constitutional government. Again, as
we restored democracy by the ways of democracy, so are we completing the constitutional
structures of our new democracy under a constitution that already gives full respect to the
Bill of Rights. A jealously independent Constitutional Commission is completing its draft
which will be submitted later this year to a popular referendum. When it is approved, there
will be congressional elections. So within about a year from a peaceful but national upheaval
that overturned a dictatorship, we shall have returned to full constitutional government.
Given the polarization and breakdown we inherited, this is no small achievement.

My predecessor set aside democracy to save it from a communist insurgency that numbered
less than 500. Unhampered by respect for human rights, he went at it hammer and tongs. By
the time he fled, that insurgency had grown to more than 16,000. I think there is a lesson
here to be learned about trying to stifle a thing with the means by which it grows.
I don’t think anybody, in or outside our country, concerned for a democratic and open
Philippines, doubts what must be done. Through political initiatives and local reintegration
programs, we must seek to bring the insurgents down from the hills and, by economic
progress and justice, show them that for which the best intentioned among them fight.
As President, I will not betray the cause of peace by which I came to power. Yet equally, and
again no friend of Filipino democracy will challenge this, I will not stand by and allow an
insurgent leadership to spurn our offer of peace and kill our young soldiers, and threaten our
new freedom.

Yet, I must explore the path of peace to the utmost for at its end, whatever disappointment I
meet there, is the moral basis for laying down the olive branch of peace and taking up the
sword of war. Still, should it come to that, I will not waver from the course laid down by your
great liberator: “With malice towards none, with charity for all, with firmness in the rights
as God gives us to see the rights, let us finish the work we are in, to bind up the nation’s
wounds, to care for him who shall have borne the battle, and for his widow and for his
orphans, to do all which may achieve and cherish a just and lasting peace among ourselves
and with all nations.”

Like Lincoln, I understand that force may be necessary before mercy. Like Lincoln, I don’t
relish it. Yet, I will do whatever it takes to defend the integrity and freedom of my country.
Finally, may I turn to that other slavery: our $26 billion foreign debt. I have said that we shall
honor it. Yet must the means by which we shall be able to do so be kept from us? Many
conditions imposed on the previous government that stole this debt continue to be imposed
on us who never benefited from it. And no assistance or liberality commensurate with the
calamity that was visited on us has been extended. Yet ours must have been the cheapest
revolution ever. With little help from others, we Filipinos fulfilled the first and most difficult
conditions of the debt negotiation the full restoration of democracy and responsible
government. Elsewhere, and in other times of more stringent world economic conditions,
Marshall plans and their like were felt to be necessary companions of returning democracy.
When I met with President Reagan yesterday, we began an important dialogue about
cooperation and the strengthening of the friendship between our two countries. That
meeting was both a confirmation and a new beginning and should lead to positive results in
all areas of common concern.

Today, we face the aspirations of a people who had known so much poverty and massive
unemployment for the past 14 years and yet offered their lives for the abstraction of
democracy. Wherever I went in the campaign, slum area or impoverished village, they came
to me with one cry: democracy! Not food, although they clearly needed it, but democracy.
Not work, although they surely wanted it, but democracy. Not money, for they gave what
little they had to my campaign. They didn’t expect me to work a miracle that would instantly
put food into their mouths, clothes on their back, education in their children, and work that
will put dignity in their lives. But I feel the pressing obligation to respond quickly as the
leader of a people so deserving of all these things.

We face a communist insurgency that feeds on economic deterioration, even as we carry a

great share of the free world defenses in the Pacific. These are only two of the many burdens
my people carry even as they try to build a worthy and enduring house for their new
democracy, that may serve as well as a redoubt for freedom in Asia. Yet, no sooner is one
stone laid than two are taken away. Half our export earnings, $2 billion out of $4 billion,
which was all we could earn in the restrictive markets of the world, went to pay just the
interest on a debt whose benefit the Filipino people never received.

Still, we fought for honor, and, if only for honor, we shall pay. And yet, should we have to
wring the payments from the sweat of our men’s faces and sink all the wealth piled up by the
bondsman’s two hundred fifty years of unrequited toil? Yet to all Americans, as the leader of
a proud and free people, I address this question: has there been a greater test of national
commitment to the ideals you hold dear than that my people have gone through? You have
spent many lives and much treasure to bring freedom to many lands that were reluctant to
receive it. And here you have a people who won it by themselves and need only the help to
preserve it.

Three years ago, I said thank you, America, for the haven from oppression, and the home you
gave Ninoy, myself and our children, and for the three happiest years of our lives together.
Today, I say, join us, America, as we build a new home for democracy, another haven for the
oppressed, so it may stand as a shining testament of our two nation’s commitment to
freedom.