Bayan Ko: The Musical Search for Modern Filipino National Identity

The following is a piece that I wrote, primarily as a final essay for an ethnomusicology course, in 2018.

Prologue

For much of my childhood, the navigation of my identity as a biracial/bicultural Filipino-American often posed difficulties. I was never quite sure where I fit in, what my clique was, who I was. I have only now, in my early adulthood, begun to form a solid sense of identity — largely due to my pursuance of cultural understanding, especially of the Philippines’ culture and politics. My interest in Filipino politics reemerged in the summer of 2016 when Rodrigo Duterte became the new President. Many know of Duterte’s violent drug war, a seminal part of his campaign; however, his victory was not due to his promises of eradication, but to a platform and an attitude of Filipino Nationalism. “Filipino Nationalism” is a weighted phrase. Historically, Filipino nationalism had always encompassed a movement of resistance to colonial oppressors — first the Spanish, then the Americans. After World War II and Filipino Independence, a dictatorship quickly fell into place and Filipino nationalism then meant resisting Ferdinand Marcos. Now, just over three decades since the toppling of Marcos, Filipinos are still searching for that new, unique meaning of Filipino national identity.

In my continuing Google searches driven by my desire to understand how and why Duterte came to power, I came across a video from the inauguration of the previous President, Benigno Aquino III (Philippines; born 1960). The video showed a choir performing the “Bayan Ko”, which translates as “my country” and is considered as the second anthem of the Philippines by Filipinos. The performance captured my attention due to the choral arrangement and orchestral accompaniment of a song that I have always heard in a Filipino folk music style, Kundiman, with guitar or piano. As I thought about the significance of the setting, performative elements, and history of the song itself, I realized that this single performance presents a fascinating microcosm of Filipino culture and national identity through music.

The Sociopolitical & Historical Context

“Bayan Ko” as a musical piece has existed in many iterations. Originally a poem written by Spanish General José Alejandrino (Spain; 1870–1951) to lament the American occupation of the Philippines after the Spanish American War, the Filipinos co-opted the words. José Corazón de Jesús (Philippines; 1896–1932) translated “Bayan Ko” from Spanish to Tagalog and Constancio de Guzman (Philippines; 1903–1982) put the words to music in 1920 as a Kundiman. The choice of genre — one with a history of political resistance — was fitting. Kundimans had been used to lament Spanish colonization, and now for the American occupation as well. “Bayan Ko” possesses more overtly nationalistic lyrics than many other kundimans, which contributed to its continued use as a resistance song under the dictatorship of Ferdinand Marcos (Philippines; 1917–1989).

First, in the 1970’s, student resistance movements adopted “Bayan Ko” and a musical opposition to the Marcos administration. Marcos was elected President of the Philippines in 1965. He was popular, but during his first six years — the amount of time to which the Filipino constitution limits a presidential term — Marcos faced some resistance from student groups due to his corruption and abuses of power for financial and political gain. When these students vocalized their disapproval, the protests were met with force. The protesters adopted “Bayan Ko” as their resistance song when overt demonstrations proved dangerous. At the end of his legal term, in 1972, Marcos declared martial law and remained in power as a dictator until 1986. In the 1970’s, after the student resistance gained traction, Marcos banned “Bayan Ko,” and anyone performing the song would face jail time. Despite this, the song made an intense reemergence as the theme song of the 1986 EDSA People Power Revolution that eventually led to the ousting of Marcos and the Presidency of Corazon Aquino (Philippines; 1933–2009).

Throughout the martial law period, Marcos’ abuses of power and self-enrichment continued while the majority of the country suffered in poverty. Hoping to regain popular support, Marcos declared the end of martial law — in name only — in 1981, but continued to consolidate power. The end of martial law, however, allowed for the return of Senator Benigno Aquino Jr. (Philippines; 1932–1983), a political enemy of Marcos who had fled to the United States in self-exile. Upon arriving back in the Philippines in 1983, amid a number of cameras capturing his arrival, Benigno Aquino Jr. was assassinated. The Marcos administration began an investigation into his death that yielded no results. The animosity between the two men was well known, and the public largely believed the administration had either sanctioned or were relieved by Aquino’s death. The lack of fruitful investigation disturbed the public and spurred a response. At Aquino’s funeral, the people sang “Bayan Ko” in defiance of Marcos, and internationally acclaimed Filipino folk musician, Freddie Aguilar (Philippines; born 1953), covered and re-popularized the song.

With those voices from her husband’s funeral providing the back-track for her entry into politics, in 1985 Corazon Aquino declared her candidacy for the 1986 Presidential election. With Marcos in poor health, the people dissatisfied, and the political acumen of the Aquino family and their affiliates (despite Corazon Aquino’s inexperience) she posed a true threat to Marcos’ grip on power. She began campaigning, and her signature yellow wardrobe became a sensation. Marcos had expected the election to simply placate his enemies while retaining power; not to be an actual competition. So, his people manipulated the votes of the 1986 election and cheated Corazon Aquino out of the presidency — after having possibly killed her husband. This is when Marcos lost the Church.

The choral arrangement of this specific performance of “Bayan Ko” reflects the ongoing strength of the Catholic Church. Since the colonization of the Spanish, the Church has acted as a central pillar of Filipino society. It represents absolute moral authority, and anything associated with the Church is a tier above — it is proper, it is right. As a result, choral music predominates formal occasions; therefore, the version of “Bayan Ko” performed at Benigno Aquino III’s inauguration had a choral arrangement. A choral arrangement invokes the Church, and the Church invokes morality and righteousness. Filipinos see themselves as a righteous, proud people. When Marcos lost the Church, he lost the country.

The people took to the streets — students, workers, clergy — all singing “Bayan Ko” as they marched. They sang those words in unison — a country united and seeking freedom, again. The people wore yellow in support of Corazon Aquino, and the clergy stood face to face with tanks and hoped for the ousting of Marcos alongside the rest of the citizens. Cardinal Sin (Philippines; 1928–2005), the Archbishop of Manila, supported the revolution and preached to the masses about Marcos’ moral impurity. The people rallied behind moral authority and conservative values of the Church — and Marcos fled as the triumphant last melodic lines of “Bayan Ko” filled the streets. Corazon Aquino became President, and “Bayan Ko” became the “second anthem” of the Philippines. 24 years later, the son of Corazon and Benigno Aquino Jr. ascended to the presidency in front of a crowd in yellow, as his mother had, with the song of his father’s funeral — and his country’s rebirth — in the air.

Filipinos take pride in the 1986 revolution. They take pride in reclaiming their country for themselves, by themselves. Filipinos took to the streets, showed their power and willingness to fight for their ideals, and for the first time, successfully overthrew a power structure without external actors and colonizers. They take pride in their nationalism, even if it isn’t quite clear what that nationalism means without something to resist against.

The arrangement of “Bayan Ko” at Aquino’s inauguration shows a blend of musical features that reflect the mixing of Spanish and indigenous influence, but the song choice also shows an unwavering pride in Filipino resilience and strength. Its choral arrangement and requiem style shows a clear and purposeful invocation of the Church, an entity whose backing undeniably catalyzed the 1986 revolution, revealing the continued reverence of an institution first imposed by colonization. Its historical context shows a clear and purposeful invocation of Filipino nationalism and the unique history of the country and its politics. The music speaks to the exploration of national understanding of the people performing, and the people listening, since the beginning.

The Music of “Bayan Ko”

In June 2010, Benigno Aquino III, the 15th President, was sworn into office. During his inauguration, the Madrigal Singers’ — a choir from the University of Philippines — performed their rendition of “Bayan Ko” in a unique arrangement that, coupled with the song choice, exhibited a blend of musical elements that reflect the continuing evolution of Filipino music.

Beginning with the origins of “Bayan Ko” itself, the song is in the kundiman genre of Filipino folk song. Kundiman lyrics are in the native Tagalog language and express love and longing, but a nationalistic message of yearning for independence from colonization often hides within those words. They feature a melancholy tone with “smooth flowing lines and beautiful melodies” that harmonizes with the accompanying guitar and piano (Anderson 2015). In the beginnings of the genre in the early 19th century, many kundimans were improvised or were poems put to music. This practice of music-making parallels that of pre-colonial indigenous practices where oral histories, poems, and stories were often put to music and improvised to pass information from generation to generation. The use of instruments such as guitar and piano that were introduced by the Spanish, together with western harmonic arrangements, effect a Spanish influence on the language and subject matter of kundimans.

One of the most pronounced holdovers of Spanish colonization is the importance of the Catholic Church as a social and political institution. Catholic missionaries were among the first wave of Spanish when colonization began at the beginning of the 15th century. These missionaries quickly noted the use of “narrative vocal practices” in song to communicate culture and ideas in the early Philippines, and thus music “became fundamental to their attempts to control and manipulate indigenous society” (Irving, 2010). Filipinos quickly adapted to certain instruments such as flutes and guitars — largely due to analogs of indigenous end-blown flutes and plucked lutes. Many historical records note the prevalence of flutes in Church music in the Philippines, a unique musical taste, and more broadly, the innate musical ability of the Filipino people (Irving, 2010). By the 17th century, most church musicians in the Philippines were natives, and the Spanish had introduced more orchestral instruments while formalized choirs became more prevalent (Irving, 2010). As more Filipinos converted, their music became more reminiscent of the Western music of the time, specifically Iberian music. This “hispanization” of Filipino musical traditions was incomplete, however, as Filipinos added their own flavor to the elements they adopted such as the use of native flutes. The unusual emphasis of melodic line employed by flute, the tendency to a circular use of percussion to mark nested, cyclical melodic phrases, and the use of old poems and oral traditions as lyrics are all remnants of the musical traditions that existed before Spanish colonization. This, again, reflects a blending of colonial and indigenous influences within the musical culture.

Returning to the performance at Aquino’s 2010 inauguration, the first verse begins with the men of the choir singing in a minor key and with slightly guttural tones that reflect the melancholic, lamenting lyrics:

Ang bayan kong Pilipinas, (My country, the Philippines,)

lupain ng ginto’t bulaklak. (Land of gold and flowers.)

Pag-ibig ang sa kaniyáng palad (Love is in her hands)

nag-alay ng ganda’t dilág. (Offering beauty and splendor.)

At sa kaniyáng yumi at ganda, (And with her grace and beauty,)

dayuhan ay nahalina. (foreigners are enchanted.)

Bayan ko, binihag ka, (My country, you were captured,)

nasadlak sa dusa. (Mired in suffering.)

The orchestral accompaniment in this section largely follows along with the melody, adding a emphasis to the words. The lyrics in this verse point to the beauty of the Philippines, and the subsequent pursuit of distant powers to capture it.

In the second verse, the women lead the vocals and sing the melody. Throughout the second verse, the orchestra follows the same melody with some slight variation. The key switches to a major key, creating a more hopeful mood:

Ibon mang may layang lumipad, (Even birds have the freedom to fly,)

kulungin mo at umiiyak! (If you imprison them, they cry!)

Bayan pa kayáng sakdál dilág, (How much more deeply would a country with such splendor,)

ang ‘di magnasang maka-alpas? (yearn to escape the chains and be freed?)

At this point, the men join, providing some harmonization, but largely following the same melody line of the women. The addition of the male voices adds gravity to the lighter tone the women’s voices had begun to craft, emphasizing the hopeful lyrics underlaid with suspense:

Pilipinas kong minumutyá, (Philippines, my treasure,)

pugad ng luhá ko’t dalita, (Nest of my tears and suffering,)

aking adhika: (My ultimate dream:)

makita kang sakdál laya! (To see you absolutely freed!)

Following the second verse, the orchestra plays an instrumental interlude with violins and violas playing the melody of the verses with the cellos playing a simple accompaniment that the choir mimics with vocables. The repetitive melodic themes are marked with cymbals, and the flutes play high-pitched, noticeable melodic interludes. The use of cymbals and percussive music-making of flutes here are indicative of the indigenous influence on westernized Filipino music, as the use of kulintang gong orchestras in indigenous times had a similar use of percussive marking of rhythmic patterns, and the use of melodic end-blown flutes dates back to the use of the suling, a native Southeast Asian end-blown flute, and other native instruments. After the interlude ends, the second verse is repeated with additional percussion and the orchestra matching the vocal melody, creating a fuller sound than the previous iteration. In the last phrase, the melody intensifies and slows, creating an air of suspense, that resolves with a sustained note punctuated with resonating cymbal sound, the music and lyrics working together to express the hopeful wish — and now the triumph that this event embodies — of a nation freed.

This performance, in turn, took “Bayan Ko” — a song from the Kundiman genre — and arranged it in a choral style with an orchestral accompaniment. The song choice itself embodies Filipino nationalism as a lamentation by the oppressed, and the genre reflects the mixture of indigenous and Spanish culture. The choral arrangement is indicative of the Spanish influence on music via the Catholic Church. The full orchestral accompaniment feels definitively western, with some unique features which reveal the ongoing participation of indigenous musical practices on otherwise western music — high-pitched, melodic flute interludes and occasional use of gongs and percussion to mark cycles of melody. This music, its elements, and the choices made in its creation reflect the ongoing search for Filipino National Identity in navigating influences of colonial oppressors while simultaneously resisting the loss of unique identity in a post-colonial world.

Conclusion: The Search for Modern Filipino National Identity

This musical performance encompasses many aspects of Filipino history and identity. The song, genre, and their roots have evolved alongside the country and its iterations of nationalism. “Bayan Ko” itself reflects the constant state of resistance that the Filipino people have only recently overthrown. Its arrangement speaks to the westernization — and hispanization — of Filipino music, beginning with colonization, and the role of melodic flutes — a holdover of the affinity of indigenous peoples to end-blown flutes due to pre-colonial analogs — and cyclical markings of gongs and percussion — a use reflective of pre-colonial kulintang orchestra — reveals to the propensity and propagation of certain indigenous musical styles. A discussion of Filipino music is never complete without a full acknowledgment of the continually strong influence of the Catholic Church on all aspects of life. The Church epitomizes morality, its continued influence on politics in undeniable, and its influence shines through this choral arrangement. This piece is a microcosm of the Philippines — its music, its history, its politics. Three inseparable entities that blend to create a portrait of national identity.

This music does not exist in a vacuum — no music does. All of the choices in this performance reflect a different piece of the cultural context, and those pieces reveal important aspects of cultural and national identity. This performance reflects the modern search for Filipino national identity amid a scarred colonial past, tangled global influences, and modern sociopolitical events. It reflects the political, cultural, and musical blending of colonial powers, indigenous practices, and modern history to find a unique Filipino identity free from the chains of the past.

Rodrigo Duterte won the 2016 election on a platform of Filipino nationalism. I am not sure what that really means, and I don’t think most Filipinos do. His presidency has been violent, controversial, and has involved challenging the Church’s authority — bringing the dialogue between political and social forces to a head. Filipino attitudes and culture have shifted and adapted to various oppressors throughout history, and now three decades of independence have passed. Many young Filipinos know only a Philippines free from former tyranny, and the country has begun to explore its cultural and national identity in the context of that freedom. Duterte is part of the modern search for Filipino nationalism, as were Aquino III and this performance of “Bayan Ko.” What may come of this exploration, however, no one can yet answer.

Bibliography

Anderson, Quiliana N., Kundiman Love Songs from the Philippines: their development from folk song to art song and an examination of a representative repertoire. University of Iowa, 2015.

Di Grazia, Donna M., editor. Nineteenth-Century Choral Music. Routledge, 2013.

Irving D.R.M., Colonial Counterpoint: Music in Early Modern Manila. Oxford University Press, 2010.

Malm, William P. Music cultures of the Pacific, the Near East, and Asia. Prentice Hall, 1967.

Moyer, Robin, et al., editors. Bayan Ko!: Images of the Philippine Revolt. Project 28 days, 1986.

Onyebadi, Uche. Music as a platform for political communication. IGI Global, Disseminator of Knowledge, 2017.

Rodell, Paul A. Culture and customs of the Philippines. Greenwood Press, 2002.