Beyond Loyola Features

Middle-class memoirs from Martial Law

By and
Published September 22, 2021 at 7:34 pm
Photos by Casey Mateo; Graphic by Sam Dellomas from the March 1985 and October 1984 Issues; Photos courtesy of Martial Law Museum, Philippine International Convention Center, Cultural Center of the Philippines, and Light Rail Transit Authority

THE REALITIES and legacies of the late dictator Ferdinand Marcos’ regime remain contested to this day. Despite overwhelming evidence that Marcos thrust the nation into one of its darkest chapters in history, some still insist otherwise. A confluence of factors such as religion, gender, and socioeconomic status, among others, contribute to varied experiences and recollections of Martial Law.

In the early years of Marcos’ term, there were hopes for genuine economic development. As his administration progressed, however, the centrality of Filipinos’ socioeconomic strata was highlighted as crises began to pile on and affect Filipinos across social classes

In the face of a violent regime, middle-class Filipinos in particular were caught between prioritizing their safety, pursuing prosperity, and challenging the status quo. As history shows, ordinary Filipinos responded in ways as diverse as the Filipino middle class itself.

Ordinary people amid extraordinary years

One member of the middle class during Martial Law was former Manila Electric Company (MERALCO) Employee Eduardo Liwanag, who describes his life during the era as uneventful except for the imposed curfew. During those years, Liwanag’s job was to visit and do meter readings for MERALCO-serviced homes. When protests took place in areas where he did fieldwork, he was forced to leave his task unfinished. He avoided rallies and similar political activities outside his work, fearing something bad might happen to him.

Despite avoiding activism, he still encountered the marks of Martial Law. On trips to Tanay to acquire pigs for his wife’s business, Liwanag would see groups of tall trees etched with people’s names. Upon hearing the locals’ stories, he realized who these names belonged to. “‘Yung mga na-torture, ‘yung mga nawala. May mga tama pa nga ng bala kung minsan ‘yung mga puno eh (Those who were tortured, who went missing. Sometimes the trees would have bullet holes in them),” he recalls.

Martial Law did not remarkably affect Liwanag, his family, nor his colleagues in MERALCO, so his focus laid strictly on his livelihood. “Noong panahon na ‘yun, kailangan kong magsumikap, magtrabaho, maghanapbuhay—para sa pamilya ko. Hindi ko naisip na, ano ba talaga ‘yung epekto sa akin ng Martial Law? (During that time, I had to persevere and make a living for my family. I didn’t think about how Martial Law affected me),” Liwanag recounts. He also admits that living in a secure home and having a stable income allowed him to learn about the regime’s violence from a safe distance. 

Former Social Studies teacher Delia San Andres was a middle-class high school student during Martial Law, but her story largely differs from Liwanag. While her father was the lone breadwinner in their family of 10, they still had “enough for everyone’s needs.” Despite admitting her family’s detachment from politics, she was always disturbed when she saw the poverty on the streets and heard about the bombings in Mindanao.

In the 80s, San Andres’ nationalism was further awakened. Her activism was roused by the country’s political and economic climate while she was in school and continued well into her adulthood as she became the family breadwinner. Alongside  rampant human rights violations, she saw her family’s subsistence threatened as the high cost of living and her siblings’ matriculation strained their resources.

In light of all the turmoil, San Andres participated in protests, signed several petitions, and supported teachers’ strikes. As she practiced her activism, she was guided by an essential realization. “If I want a better life for my family, I have to contribute to transforming Philippine society,” she says.

The stories of Liwanag and San Andres showcase but a fraction of the Filipino middle class spectrum. Ultimately, these stories reveal how socioeconomic status colored middle-class Filipinos’ lives in different ways, but it hardly prompted a singular response against the regime. Liwanag and San Andres both fulfilled their roles as breadwinners; but where Liwanag took a more cautious approach, San Andres saw systemic social change as indispensable.

The present echoes the past

Prior to Martial Law, the middle class was engaged in patron-client relations, benefited from economic development, and did not have distinct political demands. Scholars have also documented that a majority of the middle class simply tolerated Martial Law in its early years.

Ateneo de Manila University (ADMU) Political Science Lecturer Benjamin Roberto Barretto noted that incentives for the middle class to challenge the regime were scarce, especially when the affluent were prospering. “When your income, your money, gets affected, that’s the only time you clamor,” he adds.

Like Liwanag, Barretto was a member of the middle class who was not directly exposed to Martial Law’s harms. “For a while we were just enjoying life. And then some of us—or many of us—suddenly felt that, ‘What about the poor?’” he says. He credits much of his political awakening to his college education at ADMU, where he became more critical of the realities then. He acknowledges that, while the middle class was facing their share of struggles, the poor were disproportionately affected as the economy fell to the ground.

Decades later, Liwanag, San Andres, and Barreto all lament that the nation is still saddled with several troubles it faced during Martial Law. “Militarisado ang pagtugon sa pagtutol ng mamamayan sa [“pandemya o “virus”] noon (The response to citizens’ pushback against the “pandemic” or “virus” then was militaristic),” San Andres stresses. She adds that what typified the social ills of the Philippines then—as it does today—was the primacy of the elite’s interests.

While these persist, Liwanag and San Andres both agree that more Filipinos are afflicted in the current context. “[Ang COVID-19], walang pinipiling social classes. Mayaman man o mahirap, makapangyarihan man o walang kapangyarihan tinatamaan ng virus (COVID-19 does not discriminate between social classes. Rich or poor, powerful or not—the virus can afflict them),” San Andres asserts. 

Still, in crises past and present, the ability to weather negative circumstances largely relies on socioeconomic status. This was true during the Marcos regime, when Liwanag and others like him in the middle class were able to lead relatively comfortable lives and focus on individual safety and prosperity. Similarly, in a pandemic accompanied by undemocratic governance, some families have more leeway to focus solely on their well-being while being shielded from the more adverse impacts of the pandemic. However, as evident in the trajectory of Martial Law—which concluded in EDSA— personal and social interests often intersect. For the vast majority of Filipinos, regardless of class, being idle had become too costly. As such, sooner or later, it becomes imperative to challenge this unjust status quo.


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