Who is Habeas Corpus? Memories of a Martial Law Baby
by Valerie Agbayani-Malabonga, Institute for Studies in Asian Church and Culture (ISACC).
I was four when Marcos became president in 1965. I was 11 when he declared Martial Law in 1972. I was 24 when Marcos was finally ousted from power in 1986 after ruling for over 20 years. Therefore, I am a “Martial Law Baby.” Here are some of my experiences growing up during the Marcos years.
On August 21, 1971, when I was nine years old, the miting de avance of the Liberal Party in Plaza Miranda was bombed. That same day, Marcos suspended the privilege of the writ of habeas corpus* through Proclamation No. 889. This gave police authority to arrest Marcos dissidents without a warrant of arrest. This news was in all the newspapers for several days. I liked to scan the headlines while my father read his newspapers. Finally, I couldn’t contain my curiosity anymore, so I asked my father: Daddy, who is Habeas Corpus and why is he always in the newspapers?
During Martial Law, the newspapers my father read were reduced to the few that were approved by Marcos (Manila Bulletin and Philippine Daily Express). The radio stations and TV channels we listened to or watched suddenly disappeared. The few radio stations or TV channels left were all controlled by Marcos, and he dominated the news.
I don’t have many memories of Martial Law during high school except for curfew, which meant we had to be home by midnight whenever we attended neighborhood parties. It was mostly in college that Martial Law affected me personally.
College at the University of the Philippines (U.P.) Diliman
I was a Social Work major at U.P. Diliman from 1977 to 1981, while my older brother Rene or “Boyet” was an Anthropology major from 1976-1980. Rene was friends with student leader Lean Alejandro, who was with the League of Filipino Students (LFS) and Philippine Collegian (U.P.’s student newspaper). Rene was a student leader himself, at that time, Chairman of the Third World Forum. He was quite a fixture on campus because he played the promdi (country bumpkin) student named “Isko” in Richie Valencia-Buenaventura’s play Iskolar ng Bayan (Philippine Scholar) and wrote the lyrics for the activist song Awit ng Petit Burges (Song of the Petit Bourgeois). The play was performed by U.P. Repertory on, and off stage and the song was often sung during gatherings of student activists.
During final examinations, the military would be hunting down and “picking up” student leaders. One semester, Rene went into hiding for a few days and sent a message that I was to speak to his teachers and explain why he couldn’t take his finals, and could they please give him make up exams? Normally, this would not work as an excuse at any university, but at U.P., and during Martial Law, the professors were very understanding of Rene’s situation.
One time, a military vehicle stopped at our house. Rene was scared to death, so we told him to jump the back wall to our neighbor’s house. My mother tried to be as calm as possible and asked the military men what they needed. They said they just needed a drink of water, then left. I don't know if they were intimidated by our big house, but thankfully Rene did not have to jump to the neighbor's house and scare them too.
One summer, Rene asked me to tell my mother that he was going to the Kalingas (a tribe in the Cordillera mountains) to do field work for his Anthropology requirement. Since I was a “good daughter,” my mother believed me. However, he was there to support the Kalinga chieftain, Macli-ing Dulag and the Kalingas. They were trying to stop the Marcos government from building the Chico River Dam, because it would displace them and their ancestral lands. Our mother eventually found out that Rene had not gone there for fieldwork when, four years later, Rene could not march in the graduation ceremony because he lacked the necessary field work requirement.
Rene also brought home individuals who were too old to be college students and were probably labor or urban poor leaders. They would eat meals with us and sleep in our home for a few days. My mother never questioned Rene, she just asked my siblings and I to set another place at the table or give the visitors some blankets. We don’t know if they were also hiding from the military, we didn’t ask.
Life as a Social Work Student
Our Social Work 1981 class was extremely close because there were only 17 of us. One of my classmates, Lourdes “Lody” Padilla, was a student leader. She was an officer of the League of Filipino Students at U.P. Diliman like Lean Alejandro. On October 1979, Lody was arrested, detained at the Officers’ Quarters in Camp Crame for 10 days, then transferred to Camp Bagong Diwa (New Spirit) in Bicutan, where she was imprisoned for two months, along with other political detainees. October marked the start of the second semester. Through a special arrangement with U.P., Lody was allowed to enroll but with a military escort (soldier). This soldier wore camouflage fatigues and had an M-16 rifle and followed her everywhere during enrollment. Lody, true to her upbeat, fun-loving, and kind character, jokingly introduced the soldier to us as her “boyfriend” and even bought him merienda (snacks and drinks).
Although Lody was enrolled at the Institute, the military did not allow her to take classes in-person. The Social Work faculty permitted her to take classes from her detention center and we, her classmates, sent her the readings. Our Social Work class and the faculty also visited her in prison. The detainees, composed of an assortment of student leaders, journalists, labor leaders, community organizers, et al., shared their stories with us. One guy, for example, related that he was stripped naked and forced to sit on a block of ice and given the “water cure” so that he would tell his torturers the names of his companions in the protest movement.
Lody was released late in December 1979 as part of the Christmas releases to show the “magnanimity” of the Marcos government. However, just after New Year, in January 1980, she was forced to go into hiding because the military reactivated her Arrest, Search and Seizure Order (ASSO). Lody received several “Incomplete” grades because she could not attend classes. While in detention, she could not concentrate, and her hair even started to fall out. Consequently, while several of our classmates and I marched during the April 1981 university-wide graduation, Lody completed her requirements a semester later, and marched a year later.
The Institute of Social Work and Community Development was supposedly the hotbed of activists. Apparently because of the Institute’s reputation, we had some classmates who were old enough to be my father and who had a military posture and bearing. There were rumors that they were military informers. They could not give credible explanations why men that old were studying with us. For example, one guy claimed he needed to learn “community development” because he was supposedly a Protestant minister. I didn’t buy his story. We did have some nuns as classmates who were legitimately learning social work and community development because they were (and still are) known for ministering to the poor as part of their religious vocation.
One day, my Social Work professor, Greer Alforque, announced that she was going to take us on a “field trip.” It turned out that we were going to a protest rally against tuition fee hikes in state universities like U.P. The “field trip” was at a big grassy field on campus. One of my classmates, Fe Castro, told us that her father (a fireman) warned her earlier that day not to attend a certain rally at U.P. because the firemen were ordered to use their water hoses to disperse students. Sure enough, a long line of firemen was in front of us, and Fe’s father was one of them. As the firemen started to spray us with their water hoses, from out of nowhere, someone pulled me out of the kapit-bisig (arm-in-arm) line, picked me up (I weighed only 90 pounds then) and carried me somewhere safe. It was Jerry**, a guy who looked like the Hulk to me. I knew him from State Varsity Christian Fellowship (SVCF), a U.P. organization I was a member of. He scolded me for attending the rally and putting my life in danger. After the rally, I found my classmates and we all returned to Greer’s classroom. Greer calmly “processed” or “debriefed" our “field trip,” as if we didn't just have a dangerous experience.
These are some of my memories as a “Martial Law Baby.” Let us not return to those dark days of history. Instead, let light shine out of darkness (2 Corinthians 4:6, ESV). If you are a “Martial Law Baby,” help dispel the darkness by telling your own story.
Epilogue
Rene married another U.P. student and had three daughters. Rene continued his work as an anthropologist and artist in religious and non-profit organizations and the academe. He advocated for tribal Filipinos by writing about their struggle for their land and self-determination. Sadly, on February 2, 1998, he perished in the Cebu Pacific Flight 387 crash over Mt. Sumagaya, Gingoog, Misamis Oriental.
Lody married another social worker and had two children. She went back to the Institute of Social Work and Community Development as faculty and received her master’s degree in Women Studies from St. Scholastica’s College. Lody continues her social and community development advocacy with non-government organizations (NGOs), as well as in development programs and projects of the Philippine government, bilateral and multi-lateral agencies, and the academe.
Reflections
I was in college from ages 15 to 19 years old. Rene and Lody were respectively just a year and two years older than me. By comparison, my older son is 16, and the younger one is 14. Looking at their carefree lives, I wonder how they would have felt if they had lived under Martial Law and experienced what we did. Rene, Lody and I had barely left childhood when we bore burdens even adults shouldn’t bear because of Martial Law. As a parent, I can imagine the anguish that Lody’s parents must have gone through when she was arrested, detained, and forced into hiding. I marvel at Rene and Lody’s resilience and resolve to continue serving the poor and downtrodden after all they had suffered (especially Lody).
*Habeas corpus (Latin, habere = to have, and corpus = body) is a legal remedy through which a court can be petitioned to require the government to bring an arrested person before a judge at a designated time and place, to enable the court to determine whether the detention is legal, and if not, to order the person’s release.
**Not his real name
Valerie Agbayani-Malabonga received her Ph.D. in Applied Developmental Psychology from George Mason University, Virginia, U.S.A. She is a Fellow at the Institute for Studies in Asian Church and Culture (ISACC).
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