The Tabo would move along very well if there were no Indians in the river, no Indians in the country, yes, if there were not a single Indian in the world—regardless of the fact that the helmsmen were Indians, the sailors Indians, Indians the engineers, Indians ninety-nine percent of the passengers and she herself also an Indian if the rouge were scratched off and her pretentious gown removed.
Doña Victorina’s disdain for Filipinos is clear; she espouses a belief that everything would be better in the Philippines without Filipino people living there. However, the majority of the passengers and workers on the boat are in fact Filipino; simply put, there would be no steamboat without them. This quote captures Rizal’s brand of dark comedy by highlighting the ridiculousness and hypocrisy of colonial thinking. The majority of the Spanish, and those benefiting from colonialism, want Filipino land, natural resources, and cheap labor without having to interact with the people who live there and provide that wealth for them. The fact that Doña Victorina is herself Filipina demonstrates how ingrained racism is in colonial society. In an effort to climb the social ladder, she has internalized racism toward her own people and denies her Filipino identity.
Who was this intruder that he should have any right to his land? Had he brought from his own country a single handful of that soil? Had he crooked a single one of his fingers to pull up the roots that ran through it?
Tales was a simple, peaceful farmer until the friars’ greed took nearly everything from him and his family. Reaching this point, Tales starts to question why the friar-administrator, who collects the ever increasing rents, should get the land that Tales and his family have put their blood, sweat, and tears into. The friar-administrator is not adding wealth or productivity to the land. Rizal uses the word “intruder” to depict the Spanish as outsiders who are plundering Filipino land and laying claim to something that is not their own. Tales’ political awakening comes not from theory but from his lived experience: that the land should belong to those who work it.
“You ask for equal rights, the Hispanization of your customs, and you don’t see that what you are begging for is suicide, the destruction of your nationality, the annihilation of your fatherland, the consecration of tyranny! What will you be in the future? A people without character, a nation without liberty—everything you have will be borrowed, even your very defects!”
The conversation between Simoun and Basilio showcases two distinct political approaches in the Philippines at the time: reform and revolution. Both characters want better conditions for Filipinos, but Simoun believes that trying to adopt Spanish customs and language in order to create change within the colonial system is a trap. He warns that this path will only lead Filipinos to lose their national identity. In doing so, not only will they still be under Spanish control, but they will inherit all the flaws of the colonial system such as greed, corruption, and racism.
“The government has given us things that we have not asked for, and that we could not ask for, because to ask—to ask, presupposes that it is in some way incompetent and consequently is not performing its functions. To suggest to it a course of action, to try and guide it, when not really antagonizing it, is to presuppose that it is capable of erring, and as I have already said to you such suppositions are menaces to the existence of colonial governments.”
Señor Pasta’s argument against supporting the petition of a Spanish school emphasizes how fully submission and deference are ingrained into the Filipino populace. Any suggestion by citizens is a direct challenge to the idea of an all-knowing and perfect government. Ingrained in colonialism is the idea of a more advanced country, both morally and intellectually, guiding a less advanced and ignorant people. This paternalistic idea assumes that the colonial government always knows what is best for the people it colonized. The students’ petition demonstrates that they can think for themselves and want to play a role in improving their country, an idea that shakes at the foundation of the colonial government. Señor Pasta has had such a successful career as a lawyer in part because he accepts the status quo without trying to challenge anything.
“I saw him persecute and harass her…I saw him drive her mad with terror and suffering, like a huge bat pursuing a white dove. Ah, priest, priest of Abydos, I have returned to life to expose your infamy, and after so many years of silence, I name the murderer, hypocrite, liar!”
Simoun speaks through the sphinx to condemn Padre Salvi’s actions against himself and Maria Clara. When the sphinx speaks of the “priest of Abydos” he is actually talking about Padre Salvi. Padre Salvi was in charge of the nunnery Maria Clara joined; he harassed and pursued her, making her years there a living nightmare. The sphinx likens Padre Salvi to a powerful, dark bat and Maria Clara to a peaceful, innocent dove. Like many priests, Padre Salvi hides behind his religious title, but Simoun exposes him as a hypocritical liar and murderer.
In the face of that reproach, with wrath and desperation mingled, like one who rushes to suicide, Juli closed her eyes in order not to see the abyss into which she was hurtling herself and resolutely entered the convento.
Juli feels forced into her fate without any real alternative. Sister Bali chastises Juli; she places the blame, and therefore responsibility, of Basilio’s arrest and release on Juli's shoulders. Juli cannot live with herself if Basilio is punished while she stands aside. Although Sister Bali believes Juli is overreacting, Juli knows with certainty that Padre Camorra will take advantage of her if she goes to speak to him. Juli is also tormented with guilt that she is acquiescing to Padre Camorra to save Basilio while she refused to do the same to help her father. Juli heads toward the convent knowing it will bring only suffering and death. She feels a mix of wrath at her powerlessness and desperation to end her suffering.
“It is you yourself who pitilessly ridicule the uncultured Indian and deny him his rights, on the ground that he is ignorant. You strip him and then scoff at his nakedness.”
Isagani eloquently describes the trap Filipinos find themselves in. The colonial government criticizes Filipinos as morally and intellectually inferior and uses this as justification for an oppressive and unequal colonial rule. The Spanish argue that their presence and control is necessary because Filipinos are unable to govern themselves. This compels Filipinos to seek education and enlightenment and, through these means, hopefully achieve the equality denied them. Yet the education system only reinforces the same racist beliefs while limiting access to genuine knowledge. Isagani points out the government’s hypocrisy through the metaphor of stripping someone and then criticizing them for being naked.
“I don’t wish that the coming ages accuse Spain of being the stepmother of the nations, the vampire of races, the tyrant of small islands, since it would be a horrible mockery of the noble principles of our ancient kings. How are we carrying out their sacred legacy?”
The high official has worked as the secretary to the Captain General for the past three years and has intimate knowledge of how the government is truly run in the colonies. No longer wanting to participate in such a corrupt and unjust government, he speaks out. As a proud Spanish citizen, the high official is offended by the acts being committed in the name of the Spanish crown. He believes they stain the honor of Spain and the high ideals they purportedly came to the Philippines to achieve. Over the years, the colony has been twisted by greed and power such that, instead of being the savior, Spain will leave a legacy of tyranny. In a reflection of the time the book was written, even the Spanish who worry about Filipino suffering still believe in white supremacy, in the form of a myth of “bringing civilization” to Filipinos.
“All—Indians, mestizos, Chinese, Spanish, all who are found to be without courage, without energy. The race must be renewed! Cowardly father will only breed slavish sons, and it wouldn’t be worthwhile to destroy and then try to rebuild with rotten materials.”
Simoun justifies the widespread killing and violence he plans for Manila by rationalizing that it is a necessary evil. Simoun wants to bring independence to the Philippines but is just as critical of submissive Filipinos as he is of the corrupt and greedy Spanish. If the people do not spontaneously join his rebels when the fighting begins, Simoun considers this justification enough to kill them too. To rebuild a better society in the Philippines, only those brave enough to fight for their independence are worthy of living. Otherwise, they will reproduce the same passive behavior Simoun considers so damaging. Here Simoun demonstrates just how far he is willing to go for the sake of revolution and how he has lost sight of his original goal of ending suffering in the Philippines.
“The glory of saving a country is not for him who has contributed to its ruin. You have believed that what crime and iniquity have defiled and deformed, another crime and another iniquity can purify and redeem. Wrong! Hate never produces anything but monsters and crime criminals! Love alone realizes wonderful works, virtues alone can save!”
Padre Florentino criticizes Simoun's methods for bringing liberty and an end to oppression to the Philippines. Simoun mistakenly believed that through increasing immorality and suffering in the country he could push the people into taking action. Yet all Simoun accomplished was to worsen the cycle of violence and greed. According to Padre Florentino, only someone operating from a place of love and virtue will be worthy of saving the country.
