18-05-2025
ESSAY: Rizal as teacher and ‘jowa' makes him more relatable as a hero
Decades later, as an elderly man, Marcial Borromeo described how he became Jose Rizal's student in Dapitan in 1894.
The famous doctor and exile had recently set up a school for adolescent boys. Rizal told the young Borromeo to retrieve something he (Rizal) had left inside the darkening forest just up the hill from the seaside compound of huts he built from his lotto winnings.
'My heart beat loud and fast; I was pale with fright,' Borromeo recalled to an interviewer. 'On my way I heard cries and hoots, which frightened me even more.'
But Borromeo did find the object (other accounts say it was a wooden cane that Rizal had carved himself), and when he presented it to the great maestro, Rizal patted him on the back and congratulated him for acceptance into his exclusive school. Other students who were already enrolled applauded and revealed that they were hiding in the forest and making the animal sounds to gauge his courage. It was the most unusual kind of admission test.
I told this story the other day to an audience of distinguished doctors and professors of medicine. Rizal was looking for more than just intellect in his wards. He valued character, and traits like bravery and will.
I shared with the doctors that I witnessed this Rizalian blend of intellect and character during the pandemic when I had a ringside seat as one of the first Covid patients. Filipino doctors stepped up bravely to the frontlines without hesitation to treat me and other pioneer patients. In the face of apocalyptic dread, ignorance and uncertainty, doctors emerged as the true leaders we needed.
They kept hope alive through a determined search for solutions and a sense of urgency that seemed to elude our political leaders.
Every year, at the annual convention of the Philippine Medical Association, leaders of the country's medical profession mount a Dr. Jose Rizal memorial lecture to remind them of the legacy of the O-G physician and what today's Filipino doctors have to live up to. I was deeply humbled by the challenge of delivering this lecture.
As one of the anchors of GMA-7's election coverage, I silently asked myself as I scanned the emerging winners, where are the doctors?
Didn't they prove their mettle as leaders of all time by guiding us through one of the worst crises in modern history? The whole orientation of doctors is to analyze a problem — in their case a patient's illness but their rigor and will to do so could just as well be applied to social problems — and then attack it with the best solutions their training and intellect can muster.
In the Philippines, our national hero — often hailed as the 'first Filipino' — was an exceptional physician, much like many in my audience. But while Rizal's commitment to medicine was profound, his lifelong quest was the political endeavor of constructing a nation.
Medicine served as his platform to demonstrate that a Filipino could match the excellence of any European, all while acquiring practical skills beneficial to any community.
With such a genius for a founding father, why is the Philippines then still saddled with basic problems that often seem insurmountable? Where is the genius in our common DNA?
The answer I know is complex, but perhaps we can start by making our superhero of a national icon just more human and accessible so ordinary Filipinos can hope to emulate him, rather than just admire the figure on a pedestal.
Making him more accessible has been the mission of my documentary colleagues and me for the past 20 years. It's hard for the average Filipino to relate to Rizal as a world-class doctor or novelist. However, we can connect with him as a lovesick 'jowa,' as we portrayed him in a series of documentaries starting with 'Little Bad Boy: Binatang Rizal sa Europa.' That first documentary about Rizal's love life delved into his romance in Belgium with the infatuated niece of his boarding house landlady. In that girlfriend's letters to Rizal, she called him 'my little bad boy.' The exact nature of his behavior that earned him this moniker remains unclear.
The last documentary we did on Rizal's love life was produced during the pandemic in Dapitan where as a political exile, he fell in love with the 18-year-old Josephine Bracken, who came into his world as the companion and foster daughter of an English patient going blind.
Rizal and Josephine never married because the church excommunicated Rizal for his novels, and even Rizal's family disapproved of their relationship. But the couple lived happily together anyway in the last year of Rizal's life.
I'm aware of the risk of trivializing his accomplishments by dwelling on his romantic side. But it's a hook to bring Rizal down to earth. Only a precious few will be intellectual giants, and no one aspires to be a martyr, but anyone can be a jowa, even one who defies social norms for the sake of love.
Once that relatability is established, perhaps we can then appreciate certain sterling qualities as more attainable. Rizal was independent-minded, endlessly curious, gentle and pacifist, and committed to the common good. If more of us embraced that example, we'd be better off collectively and as individuals. As heirs to Rizal's legacy as a stout-hearted medical practitioner who dreamed big for his country, Filipino doctors can lead the way.
