Jose Rizal did not have to sacrifice his life for his country, and yet he chose to.
He was born to a life of greater privilege than what most enjoyed. While they did not belong to the ruling class, and while the family was big, his parents had the wherewithal to give him an education that allowed him to explore various interests, go to many places, and use brain instead of brawn.
He could have pursue any of his professional options, enjoyed his fame, and stayed away from his home country. He could have divorced himself from the difficulties that his people were experiencing. He could have written about art or music or any of the beautiful things that he came across in Europe.
Instead, he chose to use the might of his pen to rail against injustice and to shame his people’s oppressors through his literature.
He chose to come back home to be part of the movement to demand a better treatment, better life, and greater self-determination among his people. He paid dearly for it—with his life.
One hundred twenty-three years later, the nation Rizal fought for remembers this as we deal with our own struggles and our own forms of oppression. Like then, there are some people who are more privileged than others, while the rest are more vulnerable to the evils and imperfections of society. Like then, those in power wish to perpetuate themselves in their positions, believing that public office is an entitlement to a fiefdom. Like then, ordinary people are witness to injustice every day, even if they don’t experience it themselves.
Then as now, we have a choice.
We can remain in our comfort zones, especially when we are surrounded by material comfort or privilege, such that we don’t experience how hard life truly is for the average Filipino. We can perhaps read about their woes over media, but we can always choose to go back to what we are comfortable with. We say we care, but after we’ve written a lone or two or shared an article on social media, we become apathetic and distant yet again.
How many, then, will choose to be involved in this high-stakes game called love of country, where one calls out anybody who dared exploit others?
As we remember Rizal’s death today, may we be reminded that great things are occasioned not by token acts, but by genuine, committed involvement even when it's no longer easy, or convenient, or fashionable.
