On Sept. 21, 1972, President Ferdinand Marcos declared martial law, thereby ruling the country with an iron fist, as he controlled both the military and the police. Under the regime, thousands of human rights violations were committed and by the time the Marcoses fled to Hawaii in 1986, around 120,000 political prisoners were already in prison.
For former political detainees like Marie Hilao-Enriquez, secretary general of Samahan ng mga Ex-detainees Laban sa Detensyon at Aresto (Selda) and chair of human rights group Karapatan, vigilance is needed for as long as there are human rights abuses.
Selda was founded in 1984, two years ahead of the bloodless “Edsa People Power” revolt that overthrew Marcos regime in February 1986. Karapatan, on the other hand, documents cases of persons who have been abducted, tortured and killed during, and even after, martial law.
Armed with a wooden crutch, Hilao-Enriquez said that they will continue being human rights advocates for as long as there are human rights abuses being committed with impunity, adding that their work remains relevant for as long as there are young people who are open to the idea that the country should be subjected to martial law again, that life is much better during the reign of the dictator Marcos, and that it is OK to establish paramilitary forces to quell insurgency and anti-government activities.
Hilao-Enriquez cautioned the younger generation — specifically millennials oblivious to the horrors of the Marcos dictatorship — against glossing over the numerous cases of enforced disappearances, torture, censorship, and other violations of human rights during martial law.
Another group campaigning for martial law education among millennials is the Task Force Detainees of the Philippines (TFDP). TFDP says millennials should know the “real” martial law.
Popular discourse among youngsters talking about the reimposition of martial law includes how it can be a way to restore law and order, and a means to wage a war against corruption, the drug menace, crimes against women and children, and horrendous traffic.
“OK ang martial law, walang trapik, walang problema sa pera. Hindi nila naisip, ano ba ang inflation rate — bakit tayo nagkaganito? The reason we are suffering today is because of corruption during martial law. We are currently paying for it,” said Sunshine Serrano, head of the TFDP Martial Law Museum.
“Ang alaala ng mga matatanda, mabuti pa noon mababa ang bilihin, walang masyadong (drug pushers, drug addicts), magnanakaw, at kontrolado ang presyo, pero magkano ba ang value ng piso? Ibang-iba ang sitwasyon ngayon pero lahat ito ay brought about by martial aw, hindi pa kasama ang gaano kadaming dugo na dumanak sa panahon ng martial law,” Serrano said.
The Martial Law Museum, Serrano explained, is part of efforts to reach out and inform the younger generation about the nation’s darkest years using materials contributed by victims and their families. “We try to find ways para maturuan ang mga millennials, dito sa museum lahat ng makikita ninyo ay materials from victims, at relatives ng victims. May happy pictures at super gory pictures. Ito ay naitayo sa ilalim ng Association of Major Religious Superiors of the Philippines.”
Why the nuns? “Kasi sila lang ang may kakayahang mag-document kasi sila lang ang hindi kaagad napapatay ng militar, pero may mga paring paramilitary ang kumatay,” Serrano said.
She expressed dismay over the whitewashing of human rights violations during martial law via social media: “Mas maganda daw noong martial law … maayos, organisado, walang gulo. Pero hindi nila alam na sa malalayong lugar sagaran ang corruption, militarisasyon at nepotismo, lalo na ang paglago ng private armed groups o paramilitary,” said Serrano.
To ensure that people are reminded about martial law and its atrocities, advocates have continued to find ways to make materials discussing the effects of martial law more accessible through social media. They have also put up a small website which would feature persons who have given their life for the cause, as well as stories of survivors who have continued working for human rights.
“Kung may hindi naniniwala, pumunta lang kayo dito. Makikita niyo talaga — kung gusto niyo makita ang goriness, at kung gaano kadaming buhay ang naalay doon,” Serrano said.
Today, three decades after the ouster of the dictator, atrocities still exist, Serrano said. “And’yan pa din ang atrocities, especially sa probinsya. Lumads are dying — they just want to live a peaceful life protecting their ancestral domain.
“Today, however, there is a big difference: Before, you cannot hear about it. Walang nagbabalita. Kung merong martial law ngayon, walang magpo-post ng tungkol sa killings, hindi mo ’yan makikita sa Facebook o Twitter, na heto pala ang nangyari. Walang makakapag-balita.
“Even the simple act of knowing things — you don’t have the right to that ’pag martial law,” Serrano said. “Kaya mixed emotions ang mga matatanda natin, akala nila mga aktibista lang naman ang napatay. Pero ang totoo, madaming biktima — kaso hindi natin sila nabigyan ng mukha dahil wala tayong kalayaan i-kuwento sila, lalo na ’yung military- at paramilitary-perpetuated killings. Mabuti lumalabas ang kwento tungkol sa mga lumad,” she added.
TFDP continues to partner with other several progressive organizations, political parties, student bodies, church-based advocacy groups, and families and relatives of ex-political prisoners in the continuation of martial law education. The museum recently got a facelift as several UP Fine Arts students lent a hand in painting murals and arranging the items in the museum.
However, Serrano lamented that while the signed Martial Law Compensation Act states that a “human rights violation victims memorial commission” will work with the Department of Education and the Commission on Higher Education in educating young people about the abuses committed by the Marcos regime and the heroism exhibited by those who oppose it — this has yet to happen.
In fact, to date, Serrano continues to wonder: “Nasaan na ang education?”
Until then, perhaps millennials are indeed left with no other choice but to turn to accessible avenues like social media for “education” — whatever its form, biases and inaccuracies.
