In the calendar of commemorative holidays, Filipinos celebrate two in the month of June. The first is June 12, Philippine Independence Day. The second coincides with Juneteenth (June 19th) which Americans celebrate as Emancipation Day. For Filipinos, it is the birthday of Jose Rizal, a national hero.
These June 19th commemorations are recent additions to both American and Filipino holiday calendars. Juneteenth, the US federal holiday marks the emancipation of enslaved Black Americans. It became a US federal holiday in 2021. For Filipinos, June 19, became a “working holiday” in 2024, to commemorate Jose Rizal’s birthday.
The Filipinos now have the distinction of celebrating Jose Rizal Day twice a year. First on his birthday, and later on December 30, the day of his martyrdom. Growing up in the Philippines, we always celebrated Rizal Day on December 30th. Never giving it much thought beyond the fact that on this day we get a holiday, and are encouraged to think about Rizal’s life and legacy. I am all for commemorative holidays since they mark teaching moments about a nation’s history. But why 2 two Rizal Days? I looked into it. It turns out that the traditional December 30 commemoration of Rizal day was not intended just for Rizal.
Here are some tidbits from Wikipedia:
“Rizal Day was first instituted with a decree dated December 20, 1898, signed by President Emilio Aguinaldo in Malolos, Bulacan, celebrating December 30, 1898, as a national day of mourning for Rizal and all the victims of the Spanish colonial rule of the Philippines…”
However,
“With the victory of the Americans against the Spaniards in the Spanish–American War, the Americans took control of the Philippines. In an effort to demonstrate that they were more pro-Filipino than the Spaniards, the American Governor-General William Howard Taft in 1901 named Rizal a Philippine national hero. A year later, on February 1, 1902, the Philippine Commission enacted Act No. 345, which made December 30 a public holiday.”
There is a very clear difference in intent between Aguinaldo’s declaration as president of the first Philippine Republic and Howard Taft’s executive order. Aguinaldo wanted to establish a day of mourning on the date of Rizal’s martyrdom for the victims of Spanish oppression which included Jose Rezal together with the 3 Filipino priests, Fathers Burgos, Gomez, and Zamora, and others.
The latter, by Governor General Taft, who later become US President, declared Jose Rizal a Philippine national hero, as part of the US strategy of Benevolent Assimilation, a racist ideology that inferiorises Filipinos—and non Whites. In effect, Rizal became The Philippine National Hero, thru an American sponsorship.
American colonial rule over the Philippines lasted almost half a century. Rizal enjoyed sponsorship as the national hero over this period, becoming highly venerated with statues honoring him abounding in towns and cities declaring his status as “national hero.” And rather than chose a different date, from Aguinaldo’s commemorative date for martyrs, it appears that Governor Taft kept December 30 as the commemorative date for their sponsored hero, instead of selecting his birthday. This had the effect of Rizal’s martyrdom overshadowing other victims of Spanish oppression that would have been memorialized on this day, too. This explains why Filipinos like me refer to December 30 as “Rizal Day”, unaware of Aguinaldo’s original intent to memorialize all the victims of Spanish oppression on this date.
When I received an invitation to share some thoughts about Rizal this month (June), I began to get curious about this shift in dates from December 30, as I had always thought of December 30 as Rizal Day. I was aware about Jose Rizal being an American sponsored hero. But by now many of us know enough about his life and writings that American sponsorship does not diminish his status.
Through no fault of Rizal, I am inclined to think that this sponsorship, has unintended consequences. In designating Rizal as THE national hero Governor General Taft accomplished three things. First, he created the impression of American benevolence, vs. Spanish oppression. Second, he put up a Filipino role model which would not lead to unrest against Americans. And third, by designating December 30 as the commemorative date, commemorations of Jose Rizal as the national hero would overshadow other victims of Spanish oppression, effectively suppressing Aguinaldo’s intent to have December 30 as a vmemorial day for victims of Spanish oppression.
This deliberate shaping of Filipino attitudes under the doctrine of benevolent assimilation might also explain why history texts during the colonial period tended to minimize figures associated with the revolutionary struggle for independence, and most specially, the Philippine American war. In fairness, the colonial government would later allow mention of historical figures, like Andres Bonifacio, Emilio Aguinaldo, Apolinario Mabini, etc., in history texts but these mentions do not state that they are “recognized” as heroes. Additionally, mention of the first Philippine (Malolos) republic, a constitutional government established by Emilio Aguinaldo’s revolutionary government in 1898, was totally absent (censored?).
As we commemorate Philippine Independence Day and Rizal Day, this month we might want to look beyond Jose Rizal for a more diverse and inclusive pantheon of heroes.
Before readers of Asian Journal start flooding my mailbox with emails, let me state unambiguously and categorically that I do believe, as popular historian Ambeth Ocampo asserts, that Jose Rizal regardless of American sponsorship deserves to be a national hero. Now that we have re-assigned Rizal Day to his birthdate I would like to advocate for renaming December 30, as Philippine Martyrs day to reflect Aguinaldo’s original intent to memorialize martyrs. And also include all those who gave their lives in the struggle for independence and freedom throughout our history.
In this post colonial period, we now have the freedom to determine who our heroes, our national heroes should be. We have made space in the pantheon of Philippine National Heroes, for other equally deserving Filipinos. And we now give equal status, to key figures in the revolt against Spain, the establishment of the First Philippine Republic , and in the Philippine American war where Filipinos fought valiantly against an American army with vastly superior equipment. Andres Bonifacio’s leadership in spearheading the revolt against Spain, Emilio Aguinaldo’s pursuit of independence both in the revolt against Spain, and the establishment of the first Philippine Republic, and in the war against American colonial annexation. These are very noteworthy. Figures like Apolinario Mabini, and others who were unrecognized during the U.S. colonial period, and overshadowed by Rizal, are being given their due. But I feel there are still omissions.
For example Jose Rizal’s older brother, Paciano, hardly gets a mention. Yet Paciano was actually Jose’s enabler. It was Paciano, as manager of the familyholdings, who financially supported Jose’s studies thru medical school and travels abroad. He enabled Jose to devote time to writing and to the activities of the propaganda movement that advocated for representation in the Spanish Cortes, Spain’s legislative assembly.
Jose Rizal’s advocacy for reforms is perhaps the main reason why he was unsupportive of the revolt against Spain, to the point where he even refused Andres Bonifacio’s offer to free him so that he may actively join the revolutionaries. Jose was a reformist. Paciano, on the other hand was a revolutionary; He joined Aguinaldo’s Army and rose to the rank of general. He is known to have opposed the Pact of Biak na Bato, the cease-fire agreement between the Aguinaldo and Spain, where Aguinaldo and his war council agreed to exile in Hong Kong. Upon Aguinaldo’s return, Paciano re-joined Aguinaldo in defeating the Spanish and in the war against U.S. colonial annexation. He was eventually captured, but was allowed to stay in his family’s farm, quietly.
With this resume, I am surprised that Paciano Rizal is not receiving more mention as a hero. It is time to correct this oversight.
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*Portions of this essay were originally part of a talk given during a recent Rizal Day celebration at the City of Carson, California.
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The opinions, beliefs and viewpoints expressed by the author do not necessarily reflect the opinions, beliefs and viewpoints of the Asian Journal, its management, editorial board and staff.
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Enrique de la Cruz is Professor Emeritus of Asian American Studies at Cal State University, Northridge.
Before inboxes overflow, let me say it plainly: José Rizal—despite American myth-making, colonial curation, and decades of curricular dilution—belongs in our national pantheon. But the challenge now is not to defend his heroism. It’s to complete the telling of the revolution he helped ignite, and to restore the missing pieces: names forgotten, battles ignored, legacies whitewashed.
Renaming December 30 as Philippine Martyrs’ Day would be a powerful start—a return to Aguinaldo’s original intent to honor not just Rizal, but the multitude who bled for freedom. But calendar reform is only the beginning. We must rewrite the very curriculum that taught us to forget.
Because the deeper crisis lies not in our educational system (currently ranked 2nd lowest in math, science, english, and critical thinking in SE Asia): the margins of our textbooks, underpaid teachers, inadequate nutrition for our students, classroom shortage, but in the soul of Philippine education—a system once designed not to develop sovereign minds, but to domesticate them.
The original rupture did not stem from a lack of funding, but from the systematic erasure of our own story. Replacing it was a U.S.-designed curriculum modeled after Native American boarding schools—tools of cultural amnesia, disguised as benevolent pedagogy.
Is it any surprise, then, that students can cite George Washington but know nothing of the military genius of 27-year-old General Emilio Aguinaldo—or the revolutionary Filipino victories in Imus, Zapote, and Binakayan? Rizal is often reduced to a literary mascot, his radical political thought muted, his separationist ideals carefully bracketed, despite evidence from scholars like Rafael Palma, Fr. John Schumacher, and John Nery.
Even our Independence Day has been misaligned. July 4, 1946, was not liberation—it was delayed recognition. June 12, 1898, was the real revolution—declared, fought for, and sustained by a sovereign people. That afternoon in Kawit, Cavite wasn’t just theater; it was the birth of Asia’s first modern nation with a separation of church and state ~ a constitutional democracy. And yet, in our schools and public rituals, that sovereignty is still eclipsed. The Luneta stage was repositioned to frame American benevolence; the towering 150-ft. 1946 flagpole in Rizal Park marks not our founding, but the day we were told we were finally free.
But even in the face of empire, our forebears held the line.
In August 1898, as our revolutionary government took shape, José Palma, stationed in Bayambang, Pangasinan, composed the poem “Filipinas”, set to Julián Felipe’s stirring Marcha Nacional Filipina. That poem—later adopted as the lyrics of “Lupang Hinirang”—was penned while American forces was in the midst of encroaching on Filipino-controlled territories. The only sovereign power recognized throughout the archipelago by that time was Aguinaldo’s government since Filipino forces had already defeated Spain over a year earlier. The line referencing the manlulupig (“oppressor”) was no longer about Spain. It was a defiant anthem against the United States, composed even while Filipino soldiers were valiantly defending Angeles, Pampanga—the Republic’s fourth capital-in-resistance.
This was not a fringe rebellion. It was a functioning republic, guided by diplomats fluent in global discourse and revolutionaries in dialogue with Cuba, China, Japan, and the U.S. Anti-Imperialist League itself. That vision—the Philippines as an intellectual and moral force in Asia—was not a fantasy. It was interrupted.
Even Rizal’s supposed moderation has been misread. He never rejected revolution—only unarmed improvisation. His Manifesto to Certain Filipinos makes that distinction clear. He laid down three preconditions for revolution:
Elite backing – Achieved through Aguinaldo’s 177 signatories to the 1898 Declaration.
Foreign alliances – Pursued by Mariano Ponce with Cuba, Japan, and Sun Yat Sen.
Modern arms – Acquired by Aguinaldo and Ponce before launching the second, successful phase.
Bonifacio lacked those advantages. Aguinaldo fulfilled them. Even Mabini and Luna shared Rizal’s reservations about premature action—not out of hesitation, but out of strategic clarity.
Let us also speak the name Paciano Rizal, too often a footnote. He was the revolution Rizal envisioned in human form: a general, a strategist, a man who stood armed and defiant while his brother wrote in chains. If José was the visionary, Paciano was the executor.
Our revolution was not just military. It was educational, philosophical, artistic. La Liga Filipina wasn’t a book club—it was a prototype for self-rule. Rizal wielded prose the way revolutionaries wield rifles. Art and imagination were his weapons. His goal? To awaken a nation that could think, resist, and love its country with unflinching clarity.
So, let’s stop asking why the youth feel disconnected—we taught them someone else’s story.
What we need is not just smaller classes or better infrastructure (though yes, those too). What we need is an education that feeds the Filipino soul: with truth, memory, and fire.
Let our classrooms revive the stories of monumental sites of Bayanihan (Rice Terraces of Cordilleras and Batanes’ colossal stone megaliths called Idjang, or citadels/castles) early barangays, sinified and Indianized kingdoms, Biak-na-Bato’s constitutionalism, and Malolos’ democratic vision. Let us teach that we were not a footnote to colonization, but a people who once stood at the forefront of Asia’s modern awakening.
The golden age of Filipino thought didn’t perish. It was silenced. It is time to resume the unfinished revolution—not with arms, but with intellect, with imagination, and with the audacity to teach our children who they truly are.
Rizal lit the spark. Bonifacio fanned the flame. Aguinaldo launched the firestorm. Paciano carried it into battle. Palma gave it a voice. And now, it’s our turn to give it a future.