El Filibusterismo

An important aspect of the abuses in the novel is their consequences, illustrating how one evil can be multiplied throughout society. In Cabesang Tales’s case, his entire family suffers, especially his daughter, Julí. In Chapter 8, Julí isn’t in a position to celebrate Christmas, as she’s sold herself into servitude in order to pay her father’s bail from prison. She fears losing her boyfriend Basilio, her only hope for social advancement, as Filipino servants of the colonial era were even looked down on by fellow Filipinos. Aside from Julí and Tales’s woes, the chapter illustrates how an ordinarily happy time of the year is viewed by Filipino children, who are forced to conform to an array of social pressures: “But that’s the custom, and Filipino children enter the wider world with these experiences, which surely will end up as the least sad and least harsh of their personal lives” (84). While the hardships of childhood aren’t exclusive to Filipino culture, this quote reinforces the story’s solemn tone.

In Chapter 9, the moral of Cabesang Tales’s story is that “it was really heaven’s punishment on those who resist the exigencies of the friars” (85). This sentiment speaks to the Church’s power in the Philippines, which often leads to clerical abuse. Anything that Filipino citizens might perceive as the friars committing evil can be explained away as part of a divine decree. This is an obvious criticism of not only the friars, but religion in general, and those who follow religious authority without question. One such believer is personified in Julí’s mistress, Sister Penchang, who seeks to make the girl a “proper” Christian without any regard for her family’s suffering by greedy clergy.

Chapter 10 features Simoun’s first act of true subversion. Until now, his deeds have been spoken of, but never featured in the plot. He recognizes in Cabesang Tales someone who’s been abused by the system, and is angry enough, to actively play a part in his plans. Though Simoun doesn’t actively provide Tales with a pistol, he makes the pistol available to him. Not only does he provide Tales with an instrument of revenge, but an illustration of the great divide in wealth distribution in Philippine society. At one point, while gazing upon Simoun’s riches, Tales thinks to himself: “Lord, just one of those stones was worth more than a man’s home, a young woman’s safety, and an old man’s peace of mind in his last days” (91). In other words, according to Tales, Simoun possesses more wealth than the worth of his entire family and life’s labor. It’s a sentiment Simoun picks up on, knows from his experience as Ibarra, and which he exacerbates to fan the flames within Tales’s heart.

However, Simoun’s riches aren’t solely used to incite furor in Tales. Jewelry represents another type of wealth, further symbolized by María Clara’s locket. María Clara was Ibarra’s love from the first novel. Once she learned of his death, she went to a convent where Father Salví, who’d lusted for her throughout the novel, abused her. The locket symbolizes both compassion and corruption. María Clara had given the locket to a leper, hoping to provide him with some relief from his suffering. That Simoun wants to purchase it for double the amount Tales needs to free Julí from debt and servitude comes as no surprise to returning readers. His wanting to purchase the locket highlights its importance and introduces an element of Simoun’s later revenge.

Like Chapter 10, Chapter 11 illustrates the levels of political corruption within the colonial governing system in the Philippines. The Castilian Academy is introduced and will become a prominent political topic later in the novel. The academy is a proposed plan by students of Manila schools of higher education to establish a school specifically designed for educating Filipino students in Spanish (which used to be designated as Castilian, since the Spanish capital was located in Castile). Teaching Spanish to Indigenous Filipinos was not a revolutionary idea—rather, it was to be expected of colonization. This is why clerical intransigence and the friars’ refusal to support teaching Filipino students, let alone the general populace, illustrate the level of Catholic influence on Philippine politics. In fact, one of Father Sibyla’s arguments against the academy is that if Filipino students were granted their petition, it would lessen the friars’ prestige, which would then lead to revolution: “[The students] will claim they have won and will be overjoyed, and then good-bye moral force, good-bye everything…If we fall, it’s only the first step in your downfall. After us, the government” (106). The discussion quickly shifts from teaching Spanish to politics. Father Sibyla essentially argues that betterment for the Filipino population, especially if requested by them, will weaken the powerful’s hold over them. However, Father Fernández supports the idea of an academy and poses an important rhetorical question: “To what end are we always trying to tyrannize the population? In the end they are many and we are few. We need them, they don’t need us” (106). However, Father Fernández is outnumbered by Fathers Sibyla, Camorra, and Salví.