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I wrote this piece 30 years ago when I attended the 20th anniversary reunion of FQS (First Quarter Storm) in Manila. I posted it on my FB page when my friend, Nelson, died a few months ago. PNL readers may be interested in reading this piece in time for the 50th anniversary of the FQS this January,
Rodel

The Gathering of The Storm Survivors

By RODEL RODIS

It was the best of times. It was the worst of times. It was the time of the First Quarter Storm, which Nelson Navarro described as “that cathartic student revolt in the first months of the 1970 that shook the nation with its La Gran Passion, its intense and all-encompassing life-changing experience.”

The “Storm” was triggered by the fraudulent presidential elections of November 1969 in which the incumbent unleashed his 3-G formula of Goons, Guns, and Gold to secure an unprecedented second term.

But while the public responded to this massive fraud with fatalistic resignation, the students were enraged. Throughout the Greater Manila area, student councils and related organizations gathered together in preparation for a massive protest rally in front of the Philippine Congress on its opening session.

On January 26,1970, more than 60,00 students amassed in front of Congress to listen to speeches describing what they believed to be the true state of the nation while Ferdinand Marco gave his own self-serving version to the self-serving politicos inside.

After finishing his speech, Marcos quickly made his exit from Congress and, just as he was about to board the presidential car, a papier mache crocodile (the symbol of political avarice) was hurled at his car. Instantly, the phalanx of government soldiers then charged the rank of the assembled throng swinging their rattan truncheons and bashing the heads of the helpless students. Hundreds were seriously injured as the whole nation watched the tumult live on their TV screens.

In the days that followed, indignation rallies denouncing police brutality were held in many campuses culminating with the

January 30 March to Malacañang. Thousands of students surrounded the fortified palace when suddenly, the light went off and the eerie silence of darkness became deafening.

The riot police retreated into the night only to be replaced by battle-hardened soldiers armed with high -powered armalites out to quell a rebellion. Before that long dark night was over, four students were to lie dead, score paralyzed, and hundreds maimed from gunshot wounds.

As Mario Taguiwalo recounts its, “The death of friends. The terror of gunfire, the taste of a truncheon taught a lot of ‘isms’ in one night. By the morning of Jan. 31,1970, a thousand chapters of student organizations had begun taking root in school and communities nationwide.”

On the 20th anniversary of that historic day, I found myself at Freedom Park in front of Malacañang at the scene of that epic battle between unarmed students and fully armed soldiers. There were simple ceremonies to mark the occasion and small cast of notable from that period gathered together to remember.

There was Jerry Barican, then the radical president of the UP Students council and now a conservative lawyer and businessman. Jerry rationalized his political transformation by quoting from Churchill:” If you’re not a radical by the age of 18, you have no heart. If you’re still a radical by the age of 40. You have no head.”

There, too, was Nelson Navarro, then the articulate spokesman of the student coalition, now an acerbic columnist and political analyst. Mario Taguiwalo was present – once a pillar of student mass action, now Cory’s Undersecretary of Health. Also present was Diggoy Fernandez, who was a radical student from the elite La Salle College, now a wealthy banker and adviser to the Philippine Aid Plan (PAP). Maan Hontiveros read the Manifesto. She was at that time a curious student, now she is a well -known TV personality and the owner of her own communications company.

We were reunited with John Osmena , then a freshman congressman and a supporter of the students, presently a distinguished senator from the booming province of Cebu. Dr. Nemesio Prudente also attended our reunion. He was then and now president of the Philippine College of Commerce (PCC) now renamed the Polytechnic University of the Philippines (PUP). ‘Doc” has survived several assassination attempts from rightist death squads since 1986.

Also there but feeling a bit out of place was Gen. Rafael “Rocky” Ileto, then the Commanding General of the Army with responsibility for the defense of the palace, now the National Security Adviser of President Aquino. “We were on opposite sides of the gate then.” He said, “but now we’re on the same side.”

And then there was I, once a fledgling nationalist eager to change the world, now a practicing California attorney and recently reelected president of the San Francisco Public Utilities Commission.

Not there but present in the manifesto he had drafted and faxed from New York was Gary Olivar, then the boy wonder of the radicals, now a vice-president of a major New York Bank with a Harvard MBA diploma on his wall.

In his Manifesto, Gary reflected on how “a singular dream moved a generation”

“A dream so compelling in its inception, so irresistible in its sweep that it hurled thousands of us against the wall of this palace – as if somehow through the sheer weight of our passions on that endless night, we would reclaim the palace for our own.”

Gary mirrored our sentiments when he declared that “in the conceit of our youth.” We believed we could “repair the broken bones of a people long despoiled and fulfill a dream of human freedom of national sovereignty, or equitable progress for every Filipino.”

Those present in the simple rites were now 20 years older, and at least 20 pounds heavier, reeking with the respectable air of the very Establishment we had once hoped to change. Except for the general and the TV lady, the cast exhibited prosperous tummies and shy graying hairlines. The authoritative mien of the bourgeoisies had replaced the lean and hungry look that was the activist trade mark. The future had arrived, tomorrow had lapsed into today, so how had we fared?

We came together to share a collective memory of an era gone by. One simply could not have been part of that Storm and nit been affected by its weeping fervor and the surge of nationalist ideals. But the stark realities of a grown family and coping with their economic needs conspired to set aside the Utopian dreams and like gravity bring is back down to earth.

Mario the Undersecretary reflected about the “gem” of the First Quarter Storm this: “Every time I am tempted to give up on people, I am reminded of the utter power of ideals deeply held and I persevere again in seeking to convince not compel. I recall the sense of community in the whole and the sense of helplessness in the chaos, and I realize again that futility of solitary happiness in the midst of widespread misery.”

“As I raise my children, I remind them of our honorable past. Of the vast reservoir of common sentiment that drive violators, trip cutters, lane jumpers and other unsavory characters among us.”

Mario spoke for all of us when he wrote about the values the experience left in him:

“The courage to stand by one’s principles, the desire to freely express one’s dream for the nation, the willingness to pay the price , the eagerness to depend on one’s fellowman, the exhilaration of finding new ones.”

The First Quarter Storm, for those who lived through it, was not just a historical event. “It has become an attitude insists Mario,” a part of a value system that colors one’s view of society, a powerful memory that sparks one’s hopes for a possible Philippines. These things are important in protesting the evils in our midst as they are invaluable in affirming the good around is.”

The most poignant part of the ceremony was the moment of prayer offered to the memory of those who died that fateful night and in the many years since then. Ma-an read the responsibility never to forget. To them we owed the broadest appreciation of their heroism – whatever their particular vision of the future, however, they chose to fight on its behalf whenever they were taken from us.”

At the Ceremony’s conclusion, we embraced each other firmly and with moist eyes. “Reunions are beautiful,” Nelson mused “because the older we get. the more we cease seeing ourselves as friends or enemies, “he said, “we are simply survivors sharing a common memory.” Published 1/26/2020






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