I was a senior student of political science at the Lyceum of the Philippines in Intramuros when Pres. Ferdinand E. Marcos signed Proclamation 1081 placing the entire country under martial law. The date was September 21, 1972. The given reason behind the declaration was the alleged threat of communism which according to intel report was getting more and more strength and starting to gain foothold all over the archipelago. This was coupled with the heightening violent occurrences in Metro Manila perceived to be caused by communists guerillas as well as other leftist groups which were almost always at the forefront of every radical activities in the metropolis particularly in the City of Manila.
Before martial law was declared I was already a member of an extremely radical group called Kabataang Makabayan (KM). Student activism was already a commonplace allover the different schools in Metro Manila and Lyceum was not an exception. In my case however, I became a student activist not really out of conviction but rather because of association. Nary a student in our university was not a member of any leftist organization because anyone who was not a member of any of those militant student orthodoxy will be subjected to ridicule and will be ostracized endlessly inside and outside the school campus. It was not that I'm unaware of the active militancy of our school when I enrolled in the college of arts and sciences. The kind of highly charged political mindset of the students were clearly manifested when I first set my foot in the school to enroll. I was greeted by broken glass windows of the building which I was told was the result of the recent violent demonstrations by the students against some existing school rules. If it were today, you can imagine the gore picture of an airstrike at a certain place in the middle east. During my first year, I tried not to be involved in student activism but eventually, after a lot of of relentless persuasions from my classmates and some professors, I joined the radical mainstream.
Before martial was declared, all the ominous signs were already written on the wall, the most significant of which was the lifting of the "writ of habeas corpus" which ostensibly was already a prelude to the real Mcoy (pun intended). We knew that it was only a matter of time before the fateful event will unfold before us. And so, the dictator did not disappoint us.
One morning when we woke-up, there was no sound on the radio, no tv telecast, no dailies but only our regular hot pandesal and coffee. It was eerily silent. Rumors and conjectures were already circulating in the streets. Everyone in the neighborhood was already aware of the worse case scenario yet there was no news or confirmation of the fateful political event. We were simply left hanging in the air. Finally before noon, if I remember right, Marcos was on air over radio and television. And with his familiar booming voice he announced Proclamation 1081 which placed the entire Phulippines under martial law. Soon after that, Press Secretary Kit Tatad, also with his own baritone voice, was reciting a litany of "whereas" and "therefore" on radio and television.
"Life must go on", and so they say. We were back to school soon enough. This time however, everyone was wary and at the same time worried. Wary because martial law means the rule of the military and the suspension of all our civil rights as expressed in our constitution, and worried because we might be one of those identified as political troublemakers and hauled inside an army truck to be transported to a military camp for incarceration. My fear grew even more when I set my foot near our school premises. On top of the wall of Intramuros, directly facing our school entrance, a 50cal. machine gun was mounted on the tripod manned by military men in complete battle gear. I knew I had seen this scenario before on local movies depicting Japanese occupation of our country in the early 40s. But this was actuality! And it's immensely frightening. As if one false move, I and my co-students will be mowed down to kingdom come in an instant. Fortunately. me and my classmates were inside our classroom without any untoward incident that happened. But much to our horrors and disbelief, 2 of our classmates who were with us during regular student demonstrations at Malacanan, Congress and US Embassy, and singing "Internationale`" with clenched fist at that were wearing military uniforms. They may not be showing their service firearms but we knew for a fact that they were concealed inside their shirts. On that day alone we have witnessed a lot of our colleagues who turned out be members of the military. Only then did we realized that Marcos was able to successfully planted deep penetration agents (DPA) among our ranks.
Even our faculty had changed. Some of our professors who used to discuss and propel our class towards radical ideological propensities were nowhere in sight or was heard to have resigned. One professor was missing and soon to be included in the long lists of of "deseparados". Others who opted to stay behind and continue the tasks of educating us, forlorn students, were now more subdued in dealing with subjects relative to delicate topics of Maoism, Marxism, Leninism and other revolutionary communist doctrines. In a word, it was a totally different academic and campus atmosphere.
One day on the same week, I went to a radio station located in Sta. Cruz, Manila where I was soon to start training as a radio newscaster after having been able to pass the preliminary audition. Sadly to my dismay, the radio station and all its subsidiaries were all padlocked having been perceived to be toxic Marcos antagonist. Well, there went my supposed to be a newscasting career.
Martial law was a new genre of of cultural, social, and political transformation, and so it was said. We were treated with 12 midnight curfew, so that boozed or not boozed you have to be home before 12 in the evening. I was once picked-up by Metrocom (the military law enforcement agency during that time) while heavily intoxicated with alcohol. It was a little over past midnight. Fortunately I was brought and turned over to a police station in Sta. Ana, Manila. Otherwise I would have been brought in Camp Crame for an overnight stay and a whole day grass cutting penalty inside the military compound. When the Metrocom left, I was instructed by the police officer to leave and run home. And run I did, without looking at my back!
Who can forget the "Green Revolution" of Imelda? The book "Today's Revolution-Democracy" authored by no less than the dictator himself. Songs that regularly filled the air praising hossanas to martial rule and "The New Society". Who can forget Imelda's "Blue Ladies", the bogus presidential election and many more footprints imprinted in those dark days of martial rule.
I was lucky to have witnessed that fateful era in our history but likewise not so lucky to have lived in an era where all my basic rights as a citizen were taken away from me by one man.
This event will forever occupy a permanent niche in my memory.
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