Part One

 

THE CONTEXT OF SACRIFICE

 

 

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Chapter I

A PARADIGM OF SACRIFICE:

RECOLLECTIONS OF THE "TARMAC INCIDENT" OF AUGUST 21, 1983

 

Prelude to Protest

There were no advance indications that August 21, 1983 would become a pivotal date in the contemporary political history of the country. For most Filipinos — even for most residents of Metro Manila — the day in fact began with no premonitions of anything tragic or politically significant that was to come. It was like most Sundays. The traffic in most of Metro Manila's streets was relatively light — although in this "city of man (holes)" where some diggings are happening all the time, some of them for public good, most of them for private gain, "relatively" has to be emphasized when one speaks of the traffic. The usual Church-goers — and in this country that is steeped in Christian culture and tradition there are still very many of them — woke up and went through the ritual of Sunday worship in Church. "Five days of the week are for work," commented a colleague of mine in the "Christian" university where I teach, "Saturday is for myself, and Sunday is for God." And "for God" means going to Church, and concentrating on and engaging in those activities associated with the Church.

A neighbor who came home from Church around noontime that day mentioned that there was an unusually large crowd at the airport when he drove by there after the Church service, but he gave no importance to it beyond perhaps the fact that this was the usual crowd of people either welcoming some

 

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"balikbayans" coming home or sending-off some Filipino workers who have luckily been able to get slots in the labor markets of the Middle East or of those other foreign countries which have absorbed a lot of the cheap labor that the Philippines has become well-known for in recent years. My neighbor therefore slid right back into the rest of the Sunday ritual — an afternoon nap, hours of playing "atari" in front of the TV set, one of the numerous electronic games concocted by the Japanese which has addicted quite a few of the more well-to-do in the Philippines lately, and perhaps some more hours later in the evening to watch the live coverage of the basketball games.

There have been over the past few weeks news of the impending return of Benigno S. Aquino, Jr., the popular opposition leader who had been in exile in the United States during the last three years, but the announced date of his arrival had been postponed indefinitely because of strong negative reactions from the government to his coming back. Why a government which has accused him of bad faith for having reneged on a promise to return to the country after heart surgery necessitated his trip to the United States, which has claimed to have an "open-and-shut" case of subversion and murder against him, and which in fact has sentenced him to death by musketry for the crimes he has presumably committed would now oppose his return to the country was in itself forebodingly ominous.

Government opposition to his return was firm. Philippine embassies were ordered not to issue him the necessary travel documents, despite the fact that he was travelling only to his country of birth and citizenship. It was also threatening. National security, the government claimed, made it imperative that he did not return. There were, it was said, reliable military intelligence reports that there would be an attempt to assassinate him upon his arrival and the military could not insure security for

 

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him. The Communists who had felt betrayed by him, military intelligence asserted, were out to get him, and if not the Communists, then there were the relatives of witnesses who have testified against him during his trials for subversion and whom he had ordered to be eliminated in reprisal for their testimony who were equally preparing to kill him if he returned.

A scenario of political cloak-and-dagger, in short, was projected in which Aquino was pictured as a totally sinister person who had perpetuated so many crimes and evil deeds against so many people, as a result of which there were all sorts of people, seemingly hordes of them, who have suddenly become so itchy to kill him at all cost so that the security capability of the whole military establishment could not insure his safety even when it was known beforehand that such threats to his life existed. Even Imelda Romualdez-Marcos reportedly got into the act. At a meeting in New York, she purportedly told Aquino that there were people who were close to the Marcoses and to the government, who, for some unknown reasons, are not controllable and who are, also for some unknown reasons, out to kill Aquino if he insisted on returning to Philippine soil.

The government, in short, posed some of the most unimaginably stringent and incredulous obstacles to Aquino's return so that after the postponement of his initial date of arrival most Filipinos did not know when he will finally return, if he was to return at all, and more still did not really believe or expect that an actual attempt on his life would be made upon his arrival. Despite the very many incredulities and restrictions of the Martial Law regime that has overcome the country for more than a decade, Filipinos, including and perhaps especially those who like myself belong to the relatively comfortable and educated middle stratum of society, continued to believe in some modicum of civility and decency in our political institutions and their leadership

 

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so that it seemed beyond the pale of our imagination that such a scenario of political brutality and violence could really occur in our land. Indeed, even Aquino's wife was to say later that she did not expect that "they" would really go "that far" in the manner in which Aquino was treated when he arrived.

Ninoy, as Aquino was fondly and popularly known by everyone in the country, was after all a "big man," a well-known and well-connected political figure whose network of friends and influence cut across the many layers of Philippine society and of the international community. Though by no means incorruptible, Ninoy had made it well in the "rough and tumble" of Philippine politics and had cut for himself a pretty large figure in public life. He must have, in the process, made many political enemies. Such however is true of many others, and such, many believed, is not only normal to political life but may in fact be the substance out of which every new political alliances are forged from which then new political movements occur.

There have been instances of political violence in the past, and through the years of Martial Rule, there have been news of brutal "salvaging" of undesirable and trouble-some elements in certain remote places in the country. Ninoy however was really not that undesirable and troublesome (for many, in fact, he provided the one viable leadership to that "opposition" that gave credibility to our democratic processes), and he certainly was not unknown. The Manila International Airport, moreover, is certainly not a remote place. Few places in the country are more public, and fewer still are more protected and secure.

For Ninoy, in short, to be shot in broad daylight at the tarmac of the Manila International Airport at the very moment in which he set foot on Philippine soil was difficult to imagine. Those who intend to do a thing like that, many thought, must either be awfully crazy and

 

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clumsy, or awfully brutal and callous. And if such a plan succeeds at all then the Philippine military and the government under which it operates must be awfully incompetent and irresponsible. Few Filipinos — and maybe even so-called friends of the Filipino people — could imagine much less believe that such could be the case.

The years of Martial Law regime has brought home the point to many of us that while the Philippine military is not the best and the most efficient in the world, it could be quite efficient and quite competent when it wanted to. Its intelligence arm and security units have in fact publicly prided themselves to be among the more reliable in the world. They have after all protected the President and his family well through all the uncertainties of the decade. Such incompetence therefore could only be out of character. And while Philippine society and politics under the New Society may have had its faults and deficiencies, still many thought that it has not really been that bad. Some as a matter of fact continued to take the line that in this "city of man" that is being built under the compassionate hand of the Marcoses on the foundations of the "City of God" such brutality and callousness could not possibly happen. A government that is purportedly so sensitive to the predicament of the poor, so popular and so loved by all that it garnered more than 90% of the votes at the last elections, so attuned to the refinements of culture and to the Filipino's better self, and so conscious of its elegance and its public avowal of religious virtue and commitment certainly could not allow such awkwardness to happen and such a sign of irresponsibility and desperation to occur. By the time August 21, 1983 ended, all of these predispositions and the claims that have built them up fell apart, and with that, many Filipinos and perhaps the whole course of Philippine political life have become change..

 

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Murder in the Afternoon

If the premonitions were not that pronounced to most people, and if most did not believe that such callous brutality could take place under the present political dispensation — controlled and managed as it is under the militarized rule of Martial Law — Ninoy obviously felt and thought otherwise. He had apparently received warnings, as he travelled towards Manila under a fake passport with the assumed name of Marcial Bonifacio (the name Bonifacio was symbolically drawn from the name of the military detention center where he spent years as a prisoner), that an attempt on his life might be made when he arrived. He put on as a result a bullet-proof vest minutes before the China Airlines flight that he took from Taipei touched down in Manila and even jokingly said to one of the many reporters who were accompanying him that they (the reporters) should be ready with their cameras because if it happened it will be over in a few minutes.

It was indeed over in less than a few minutes. Seconds after his plane was parked at the Manila International Airport, he lay dead at the tarmac of the airport, felled by a single bullet that was targetted into his head — from the back of his ear to his chin — while he was under the escort of military guards from the Aviation Security Command, that unit of the Philippine military that is tasked to give security to Philippine airports. Ninoy may not have, in fact, set foot on Philippine soil at all before that shot was fired into his head. After many more shots, a man clad in the blue uniform of airport maintenance people also lay dead beside Ninoy. The man was later identified as Rolando Galman, until that fateful moment unknown to most people, but since then a much publicized figure, either as the presumed "hired gun" or Communist agent who shot Ninoy, or as the tragic and pathetic "footnote" to the history that was made that afternoon at the airport's tarmac.

 

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I had spent that afternoon in which all of these happened in the lazy and relaxed manner that most Sunday afternoons are usually spent. I was in fact preparing to work that night on a series of lectures on the prophetic and pastoral ministry of the Church that I was to give a few days later at the Founders' Day Convocation of the Divinity School of Silliman University. I turned on the TV shortly after early dinner when at around seven o'clock the regular TV program was interrupted to give way to a news bulletin. I almost did not bother to listen to the news bulletin. Ever since my return to the Philippines in 1977 from study and work abroad, news bulletins that interrupted regular programs on TV and radio have almost always been the monotonous recap of the latest speech of the President or of the latest ceremony attended by his wife. Somehow, this time, I did not switch off the TV set, and I was glad, albeit also shocked. The news bulletin flashed the news of the killing of Ninoy, and then was followed by the appearance of President Marcos (indeed, the news bulletin was still mostly Marcos although this time I listened very hard!) who read a statement on the shooting, underscoring his sadness at this "dastardly act," but at the same time expressing regret over the fact that Ninoy in his hardheadedness did not see fit to listen to government warnings and appeals that he should not return and that in his folly he listened instead to the ill- advice of his friends and colleagues in the opposition about the desirability and need of Ids coming back. Already in this initial official reaction from the government, the defensiveness was obvious. The President emphasized the great effort undertaken by the military to give ample security to Ninoy but at the same time underscored the fact that even the best security in the world could not really protect anyone from a planned and determined effort at assassination. He asked that sad as we might all be, calm and rationality should prevail so

 

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that the proper authorities could get at the bottom of the killing and its perpetrators could be brought to justice. He announced the designation of General Prospero Olivas, the chief of the Metropolitan Command of the Philippine Constabulary as the chief investigator of the case.

The news bulletin, in short, was not that much of news. It was in fact so little of news, despite the fact that the event had occurred six hours earlier, and mostly Presidential editorializing. Nothing was said about the hard facts of the incident, about what had happened in the six hours that had elapsed, about where the body of the slain former senator had been taken after he was shot, about who possibly did the shooting, and about so many other things that people might have wanted to know about so important and crucial an event.

The prepared agenda of work for the evening have had to be given up naturally. To go to the typewriter and work on a paper, even if, and perhaps especially since, the paper was on the prophetic and the pastoral ministry of the Church at such a time was like going to the proverbial Roman party while Rome was about to burn. I became glued instead to the TV, hoping and waiting for more news on the incident. My hoping and waiting was in vain. The news bulletins continued to come skimpily. By midnight that night the same news bulletin that was broadcast earlier was being repeated on the hour, with the same Presidential editorial that was given earlier. What was coming on, in short, continued to hide rather than clarify, to give unnecessary defensive editorializing when what was obviously needed were just bare news (I learned later on that Radio Veritas, the Catholic radio station had given more extensive news coverage of the event and of the subsequent happenings in the days and weeks ahead. The only radio in the house however had gotten out of order, and so I was deprived of that service.

 

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I was as a result stuck with what has become known as the "independent but controlled media").

The control of the media is one of the salient features of an authoritarian regime, and constitutes one of the regime's powerful means of ideological propagation and restriction. It is undertaken quite skillfully and often in a "creeping" manner so that controlled news — because it is the only news that one hears — soon becomes normal news and one can so easily be lulled into thinking that there is nothing else that needs to be known. The medium, asserted Marshall MacLuhan not so long ago, is the message, and in an age where technological modes of communication have become so developed the power of those who control and own media is a matter that is not as consciously and critically known by many, even, and sometimes I think especially, in the more technologically developed parts of the world. It is a matter that has become a truism among those countries in the "third world" that are under authoritarian regimes.

The Philippines has not been an exception to this truism, and it was at the moment of Ninoy's assassination when this truism became so obviously clear to everyone, when the decadence of what was once touted as among the freest and boldest press in the world became equally clear, and when finally it became just as clear that the willful setting up of a counter-media was not only needed for the "objective" dissemination of news and information but also crucial for national well- being and redemption. The cost of setting up such a counter-media is enormous, not only in terms of material resources but more importantly in terms of the human sacrifice that it entails. The blooming of what the Minister of Information derogatorily referred to as the "mosquito press" shortly after Ninoy's assassination and the boycott of the controlled press that followed are indications that perhaps the lulling impact of a controlled media may have been averted.

 

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The days that followed were, as the Philippines Daily Express had rightly put it, days of rumor. And indeed the rumors and the speculations abound. There were [ rumors that President Marcos and his family had left the country after a coup had taken place. There were rumors that Juan Ponce Enrile, the Minister of National Defense, was under house arrest, and that disarray had overcome the President's Cabinet. The speculations were immediately ripe that in fact the security escorts were the ones who fired the fatal shot and that the killing was engineered from the "inside." There was wide anticipation of civil strife and of more killings targetted at some important persons in the military and in the government. The military was in fact put on "red alert." And there was, perhaps as a result of all of these, panic-buying in the stores of Metro Manila, as if people had the notion of gearing themselves up for a siege. Many schools suspended classes the following day, and unknowingly on my part, my office had been barraged by panic-calls by students, and warning-calls from all sorts of people that we should be ready for the "war" that was about to begin. The fact that at around eleven o'clock that morning power was cut-off and all lights went out did not mitigate any the foreboding sense of "war" that had began to build up.

As again the Philippine Daily Express asserted later, the rumors were not true, at least not all were. What the Express did not say, of course, is that rumors in fact abound when news is skimpy and controlled, and that in a situation of controlled media and editorialized news, truth to many has become a matter of filtering through numerous layers of rumor that circulate, including and especially the official ones, testing each rumor as it were, and not taking any chances with them, per chance that they may be reality. Indeed, in a situation of curtailed information, one rumor may be a "rumor of angels," to use Peter Berger's words, so that while one is never

 

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secure in the rumor that circulates at any given time, it is not at the same time injudicious to give attention to the sounds and soundings that are "blowing in the wind." It has in fact been the case in so many instances that such soundings in the wind have turned out to be more truthful than the news that have been filtered through the controlled media. Besides, rumors, to paraphrase Erica Jong, who is more known for her sex novels than her political perception, are the opium of the oppressed, and who can really blame people for using opiate under the conditions of oppression in which they live?

I had, the day after the assassination, joined the staff of the National Council of Churches in a visit to the home of the slain former senator not too long after his body was brought in from the military hospital where the autopsy was made, and saw his remains still in the bloodied clothes he was wearing when he was felled by the assassin's bullet. The crowd that was to swell into the hundreds of thousands later in the week was only beginning to trickle in at the time. Brief conversations in the home with various people, and among many friends, brought out nuances of Ninoy 's return that hitherto had not been said. His courageous mother, Aurora, had mentioned, for example, that she had urged him even in their last phone conversation not to return, but that he had said that "If I am going to die, I would rather die in my own country" — hinting at news reports that were circulated later that even while in the United States there were already some indications that his life was in danger. His last words to his wife apparently were, 'This is something I need to do for our country." It was also in these conversations that I and the others who were with me at the time had learned of the great difficulty that the family had encountered in their effort to get confirmation of what had really happened and to have a look at the body of their fallen son and brother after the

 

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shooting had occurred. And it was also at this time that we heard of the sad news that Ninoy's wife and children had not been informed long after the shooting had occurred about what had happened, and that they came to know about the incident only when reporters began calling them to confirm the killing. Whatever it was that brought about this eventuality, whether it was politics, or national security, or just plain oversight, it was sad, and it was downright inhuman, and it was ugly.

After the many tense hours of the Monday after, when people were panic-buying in the stores, when classes were being suspended, and when electrical power was cut and all lights were out, power and the lights came on finally at around ten o'clock in the evening. And the very first thing that came on TV, as soon as power was restored, was the President, surrounded by the members of his Cabinet, and by the highest officers of the Philippine military. He has come on, the President said, to assure everyone that the government is intact, that contrary to rumors that Enrile had been under house arrest he is in fact here and well, that the military who were all around him remain faithful to their obligation to be under the civilian government, and that he, too, and his family were around and well, despite the fact that he looked awfully sick — almost as If he was being propped up from a sick bed — as he spoke. He then went on to reassert the hardheadedness of Ninoy in not listening to government warnings about the danger to his life if he returned; that responsibility for his death should in large measure be laid upon those who have advised him to return; that Ninoy had in fact made so many enemies during his career all of whom would have a reason to kill him; that Ninoy was returning in fact as a criminal with so many shady dealings in the past and with a record of political killings of political enemies and of those who had testified against him — in short, that Ninoy's own violent record invited the violence that had now been

 

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heaped on him. He then pointed out that only the Communists would have masterminded this awful killing, either as a way of exacting back grudges they have had against him, or as a drammatic effort at destabilizing the present government. One, in other words, must always be wary and conscious of the Communist conspiracy and of the Communist plot to take over the country, so that one must not be carried away by the passions of the moment. Above all, he appealed once more for calm and rationality, and for sobriety in allowing the government to resolve this "dastardly and heinous" crime.

Few obviously believed the President not only in his theory of who masterminded the killing, but also in his assessment of Ninoy as a man and as a political leader. Hours after the news got around that Ninoy's body had been transferred to his home on Times Street, the crowd that was beginning to trickle in earlier to see his remains began to swell into the thousands. After only a few days, hundreds of thousands had visited the Aquino residence. Not long thereafter, too, banners proclaiming "Hindi ka nag-iisa" (You are not alone) began to unfold everywhere, and yellow ribbons, which had become a symbol of his return, began to float in all parts of the city, put up in the gates of residences and homes, and in the antennas of motor cars and jeepneys. People from all walks of life came. Students and youth manned the long line of people that moved towards his house; old women came, some walking long distances in order to make the trip; even poor vendors offered drinks and candies to the tired people who waited hours for their turn to-be able to pay their respects to the fallen leader, and jeepney drivers offered free rides to many who were on their way to Times Street. When the body was moved to nearby Santo Domingo Church, in part because the residence was too small to accommodate all of the people who wanted to come, the procession that accompanied his

 

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body from the house to the Church numbered close to a million. By this time, too, the arrival statement he had prepared, and which he was never able to read, had been circulated. Here in this brief but powerfully moving statement, Ninoy laid down the intentions of his return, the defenselessness of his coming back, the desire to help and to rally the opposition to the authoritarian regime of Ferdinand E. Marcos, the hope that change would still come through peaceful means, and the sacrifice he was willing to make to bring back freedom and democracy to his people. He had come to work for reconciliation, he said, but there can be, he emphasized, no compromise with a dictator. He came in peace, in other words, armed with very little more than his defenseless body, but he came also to join a battle that was being waged against a dictatorial rule that he felt had been decadent all the time, and which, he had consistently affirmed, has oppressed his people.

I missed his funeral. My wife and daughter, however, witnessed it, and many friends and colleagues participated in that now historic funeral procession that took over twelve hours to reach its destination. Many observers claimed that it was as large as, if not larger than, the funeral procession for Mahatma Gandhi; some in fact dubbed it as perhaps the largest funeral procession ever in history. There were, my wife reported, the usual signs of sadness in that large march. Above all, however, she continued, the signs of protest and struggle were more dominant. By then, and in the months that followed, the signs of "Hindi ka nag-iisa" were always noticeably accompanied by "Marcos, nag-iisa ka na" (Marcos, you are now alone), and by the still more ominous and militant "Laban" (Fight). Whatever else Ninoy had in mind in deciding to return, his death, let loose the valves of resentment and protest that had been simmering underneath the controlled peace of Martial Law, and unleashed the anger and the anguish of

 

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all sectors of Philippine society over the oppressions they have suffered under the present regime. Controlled anger and quiet dissatisfaction turned into loud denunciations and increasingly fearless confrontation. The days of quiet rage were over.

 

A Paradigm of Sacrifice

How are we, in retrospect, to interpret Ninoy's return and his subsequent death? Ninoy, obviously, did not have to return. He was in fact urged by people closest to him to remain in the United States like many other oppositionists who to this day are in exile there. The government efforts to block his return clearly indicated that the ruling powers would rather have opposition forces in exile rather than have them at home; people in exile can continue to raise issues of principle but they become popularly forgotten and they lose political credibility. There were, moreover, clear signals that a threat to his life existed if he decided to return. The safe thing to do was to stay in exile; and yet he decided to return. Was the return then stupid and unwise, a matter of bullheadedness that was ill-advised by political strategy and ambition? Was it a matter of miscalculated risk? Whatever else was in it, was there not also in fact something of a "prophetic" act in that decision to return in the sense that it obviously intervened and dramatically broke into what was being increasingly orchestrated as the "natural" drift and flow of political life in our country? Did it not in fact have that quality of calling us, with the sacrifice of his life, to our historical responsibility of not accepting the "normal" and the "natural" cycle of events in our country, but to intervene into it instead and do something to change it? Has this not always been the prophetic task that is assigned so indelibly to the people of God? What is the prophetic task in a situation of social violence? Was Ninoy's

 

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return an act of hardheaded vanity and reckless politics, or was there not in it a sense of vicarious risk which, whether it intended it or not, brought into the surface of our consciousness facets of our national existence, for example, its brutally callous social violence, that hitherto have remained hidden to many of us even when it has been obvious to so many others for so long? Was the logic of Ninoy's death the logic of real-politick or was there not in it the logic of martyrdom? The logic of martyrdom, as we all know, gave testimony not only to that faith which has been sealed by the life and death of the martyr but also to the opening up of new expressions of commitment inspite of and beyond death? In the midst of such social violence, of whom and for whom are we responsible? Can we be responsible to assassins? If so, in what way, and what is the responsible word to assassins? What, on the other hand, is our responsibility to those who are assassinated, or are being assassinated? Are we responsible in the same manner to assassins and to the assassinated? I ask the questions really in order to make a point.

The obdurate decadence and callously controlled pretensions of our current political life recalls and poses for all of us — not the least for the Christian community — the challenge of sacrifice as a mode of political intervention. Pious involvement, civil advice and consent, critical participation and cooperation, have, I think, ran their course. Something more costly, and something that is more willfully and decisively chosen to disrupt the normal drift of political events and pose alternatives rather than simply offer corrections to the current political dispensation are now needed. 'The willing sacrifice of the innocent is the most powerful answer to insolent tyranny that has yet been conceived by God and man," wrote Ninoy, quoting Mahatma Gandhi, in his arrival statement. What the parameters were of the vision and the alternatives he wanted to

 

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propose with his sacrifice are not clear. Political colleagues, friends and admirers continue to debate up to this moment what these might have been were he alive to explicate and put them into action. Of his sacrifice however, and of the call that sacrifice made for the decisive exploration and activation of political interven- tion that goes beyond the patented and commonly-trod paths, few, I think, can raise questions. Of what sacrifice are Christians — as believers in Jesus Christ and as members of His Church — capable of making?

History, it has been said again and again, is prelude. And the events that deserve to be put in history are those that have the power to give prelude to other events that provide new direction and thrust to the flow of the common life. In attributing a pivotal place to the assassination of Ninoy in the contemporary course of Philippine political history, I do not mean to attribute to one man the crucial factor on which the future of our society has become hinged. There are great men and women in any nation's history; such however do not make history, they can only serve it. Neither do I intend to make of Ninoy some sort of a cultic personality — as some, I think, have tended to do — whose remembrance and adulation becomes the fulcrum of national redemption. Cultus is never a solution to our religious predicament, and it is much less an answer to our social and political problems. I only mean to recognize — as I think it should be recognized — that his assassination and the willful choice he made to return at this particular juncture of our political life provided the occasion for the outburst of a new consciousness among so many of those latent and really determinative historical forces that are underneath the cacophony of public utterances and display that have so dominated our social existence in the last decade. Such "sacrifice" is always well-worth remembering, and reflecting upon.