First of two parts
YESTERDAY was the celebration of National Heroes Day, which commemorates the initial days of the Philippine Revolution in August 1896. There were plenty of reminders of our heroes in the past few days. The most unlikely source came from the impeachment trial of the vice president, when we were reminded that like those who received confidential funds, our heroes too had aliases.
It was the French soldiers centuries ago who started using what they called “nom de guerre” (battle name) for security reasons. They consisted of descriptions of themselves or where they came from. Writers had “nom de plume” (pen name) to keep their thoughts confidential. Eventually, aliases would be used by the guerrilla movement, the underground movement during the Marcos Sr. dictatorship, by actors and actresses, and of course by criminal elements. Remember Nardong Putik? Asiong Salonga? José Velarde? José Pidal?
I was recently asked for my views in an interview by Mr. Ted Failon for his radio show while I was in Taiwan. In answer, with malice towards none, I said that the heroes who gave birth to our nation, both in La Propaganda and the revolutionary Katipunan, indeed used aliases in their work for giving freedom for the people. And their aliases conveyed certain characteristics. Mariano Ponce was “Tikbalang,” and Marcelo H. del Pilar was “Siling Labuyo,” perhaps because his criticisms were as hot as chili and could burn. In the Katipunan, it was de rigueur to have a nom de guerre and they signed it with their blood as a symbol of brotherhood in the Sandugo ritual. Andres Bonifacio was Maypagasa (Hopeful, in a time when there was no hope), Emilio Jacinto was Pingkian (flintstones, which are smashed together to create sparks and to make them sharp), being brainy.
Well, it can also be argued that those who were given confidential funds were working to give information to serve and save the country, as a matter of national security. But if we look at the aliases used, how would their characteristics be described? Is a Mary Grace Piattos a delicious crunchy person? Is a Xiaome Ocho small person (xiao meaning little in Chinese), or maybe a person who is adept with the digital age but also eternal (8 denoting infinity)? Granting of course that they are real people. Don’t laugh, but a Katipunan member chose “Halimaw” as his alias.
But an alias is only an alias when there is a real person behind it, and evidence of their existence and work.
The next Leon Gallery auction on Sept. 12, 2026, the Magnificent September Auction, also hold reminders. One of the items in the lot is an original first issue of the “La Solidaridad,” where some of our heroes used pen names to write about the situation in the Philippines so the Spanish government in the mainland could listen and hopefully reform the country. This is where our heroes envisioned a better Philippines while building our own identity. Copies of the newspaper are mostly with institutions so this is a rare copy in private hands, and the first issue at that. The auction catalogue summarizes the political manifesto in the front page: “They come not to fill a void in the Spanish press but to take their place in the ranks of those fighting for liberal and democratic ideals. Their program is simple and absolute: to combat every form of reaction, to prevent every step backward, to applaud every liberal idea, and to defend every progress. They pledge solidarity to the only remaining Spanish territories, Cuba and Puerto Rico, but above all to the Philippines — an archipelago of eight million souls that had been stripped of parliamentary representation in 1837 and left at the mercy of theocratic and traditionalist power. La Solidaridad, they promise, will be the determined defender of the democratic interests of those islands.”
One of their writers was Taga-Ilog, a pharmacy graduate. Taga-Ilog eventually became the commanding general of the Army of the First Philippine Republic and his uncompromising stand for Philippine Independence and against autonomy under the Americans, and his sheer strictness, drew the ire of some in the Emilio Aguinaldo government.
In the Leon Gallery lot, there is a written statement by one of the writers of the newspaper that Taga-Ilog was also editing, La Independencia — a woman named Florentina Arellano de Nable, a heroine in her own right. She left a written statement saying that Taga-Ilog wanted, in the words of an Australian viral personality, “a succulent Chinese meal” or actually, a Chinese merienda before going on a trip to Cabanatuan. The general left on board his conveyance his epaulets, designed by a certain Juan Luna, of fine silk embroidered with gilt thread and metal appliqués, and also his cockade of silk crochet with the triangular metal emblem of the First Philippine Republic. These are also in the Leon Gallery lot.
Taga-Ilog was of course, Antonio Luna, and the date was June 5, 1899. How did we have these important reminders of the day of his death. More about this next week.
Of course, without real people behind it, a pseudonym is not an alias, a nom de guerre or even a nom de plume. It is a fictitious name used for corrupt hanky-panky.
