Subversive Lives. Susan F. Quimpo
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WORKING WITH PROTESTANTS took me to various places where few Catholics tread. We held a number of study sessions at the Hugh Wilson Ladies Hall on Lerma Street, a kind of YWCA center. There I discovered that several of our Protestant 3KP members were DeMolay members, that is, Junior Masons. Filipino Catholics have always been warned by church authorities against consorting with Masons. The Masonic Order grew out of the Knights Templar, which was regarded by the Catholic Church as a heretical organization. In Philippine history, many of the revolutionaries who were sworn enemies of the Spanish friars were Masons. It was no big deal for me, however. My paternal uncle Rizal was a ring-bearing Mason. Though our DeMolay members plotted nothing more sinister than how best to politicize other unconcerned DeMolay members, I thought it significant that Masons, at least junior members, were once again involved in revolutionary activity.
At Hugh Wilson Hall too was my first encounter with an alleged government spy. Elmer told us that word had been sent to 3KP that Fely, one of the women who came regularly to our study, was a government agent. The sources were even explicit about her credentials: she was a member of the military’s Women’s Auxiliary Corps or WAC, with the rank of sergeant. I remember feeling more than a bit nervous while I listened to Elmer. Once again, I was reminded that what we were doing was not simple parish work. We were doing what we could to topple a regime and the regime was fighting back. Now we were under surveillance. The situation took on the character of a movie plot when a member pointed out that Fely had a crush on our chairman. Years later, after martial law had been declared, I imagined running into Fely in full-dress uniform, but I never saw her or heard of her again.
MY BIRTH INTO ACTIVISM was followed by a more precious one: the birth of my only child, Leon. I took Bernie to the Family Clinic in Sampaloc in the early hours of June 15, 1971. Her labor was prolonged and a quick X-ray showed that the baby was in an unusual position—a case of face presentation, the doctor said. When our baby was finally delivered by Caesarean section, his face was red, almost purple, the features mashed and contorted from the long ordeal. I thought it looked weird.
Bernie and I viewed the baby again a little later. The swelling of his face had subsided; he looked so peaceful and cute. I was relieved to see that we had a fine-looking boy. His quick recovery from a long and difficult birth was a triumph and a good omen.
NOTES
1 Almost 40 years later, I learned that Pope John Paul II had formulated similar ideas as a young priest. In Catholic Social Ethics, an unpublished book from 1952-53, he wrote: “In a well-organized society, orientated to the common good, class conflicts are solved peacefully through reforms. But states that base their order on individualistic liberalism are not such societies. So when an exploited class fails to receive in a peaceful way the share of the common good to which it has a right, it has to follow a different path.” The path could be revolution: “Class struggle should gain strength in proportion to the resistance it faces from economically privileged classes. ... The Church should view the cause of revolution with an awareness of the ethical evil in factors of the economic and social regime, and in the political system, which generates the need for a radical reaction. It can be accepted that the majority of people who took part in revolutions—even bloody ones—were acting on the basis of internal convictions, and thus in accordance with conscience.” (Quotes are from Jonathan Luxmore, “Unpublished Text Sparks Controversy about John Paul II’s Views on Economics,” Third World Resurgence, 2007, Issue No. 200.)
2 Some names are not given in full to protect the true identity of those concerned. In some instances, an alias is used because the chapter author never learned of, or wishes to protect, the person’s true identity.
A Radical Activist at an Elite University
8
NATHAN GILBERT QUIMPO
AFTER GRADUATING FROM San Beda High School, I set twin goals for myself: to continue my education and to pursue social justice. I won a scholarship from Insular Life that allowed me to choose my college. I chose Ateneo de Manila, reputed to be a university of the elite, over UP, the activist-infested state university. Though my elder brother, Norman, had graduated from Ateneo and was now teaching there, my choice had more to do with balancing studies and extracurricular activities, which I felt would be difficult among the radical militants running loose in UP. I was confident that I would avoid being seduced by the elitist and burgis (bourgeois) ways of Ateneo. In the event, pursuing both goals together was complicated.
Ateneo had two dormitories on campus, Cervini and Eliazo Halls. With an additional “dormitory scholarship” from Ateneo, I stayed at Cervini. Though not air conditioned like Eliazo, it had comfortable rooms and adequate facilities, not luxurious but a vast improvement over the cramped conditions at home. Residents of the dorms even had exclusive use of an outdoor swimming pool. All freshmen students and most “dormitory scholars” stayed at Cervini, whereas upperclassmen who were sons of big businessmen, sugar hacienderos, logging concessionaires and cattle ranchers stayed at Eliazo.
I shared a room with Bogs Bonifacio, my schoolmate from San Beda, and two other students, Kiko Villanueva and Pedro de Guzman, who both hailed from the rice-growing province of Nueva Ecija.
It didn’t take me long to adjust to life in the dorm and the academic routine. Ateneo was conducive to study. The sprawling campus was perched on top of a hill overlooking Marikina Valley, quiet and peaceful, far from the hustle and bustle, the traffic snarls, and polluted air of Manila. Whether on a bench, on the grass, or under a tree, I never had any problem focusing on my studies. At Cervini, resident Jesuits or lay teachers maintained a quiet atmosphere. In the evenings, if I didn’t want to be disturbed by the light conversation of my roommates, I could walk to the air conditioned library, which was open until 10 p.m.
Mom signs the contract for a four-year college scholarship for Nathan, which he won in a citywide competition. Percy Roa, of the Insular Life Assurance Co., which funded the scholarship, looks on.
The calm on campus was reflected, less benignly in my view, in the extracurricular scene. I had high expectations, given the prominent role that Edgar (Edjop) Jopson, the previous student council president, had played earlier in the year in the national student movement. My first few weeks were disappointing. After the protests and tumult in front of San Beda, the university atop Loyola Heights appeared insulated from the outside world.
The student council was not into political activism. The first issue that school year of the student newspaper, the Guidon, had some feature articles by left-wing writers and by the apparently radical Ligang Demokratiko ng Ateneo (LDA) or Democratic League of Ateneo, but overall, the paper was tame compared to UP’s Philippine Collegian. The student clubs looked uninteresting, though I grudgingly signed up for a few. Some moderate activist groups were involved in Operasyon Bantay, a series of protest actions over the burning of two barrios in Bantay, Ilocos Sur, whose residents had voted against a local political warlord in the last election. A few radical activists, mostly members of LDA, were focusing on “mass work” off campus—propaganda, political education, and mobilization among factory workers and the urban poor. Perhaps work on campus was futile; the bulk of the Ateneo studentry may have been too burgis to be politicized.
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