I actually thought Martial Law was heaven

SAN FRANCISCO—I didn’t even know how to pronounce it.

‘Marsha Law.’

‘Marsya Lo.’

One morning, 39 years ago, in September 1972, Filipino children like me woke up knowing a new phrase. It even became part of how our generation came to be known: Martial Law Babies.

We now remember the Martial Law regime as a bad time, and Ferdinand Marcos, as the most despotic and corrupt ruler in Philippine history.

But let me make one confession: In the beginning, I actually thought Martial Law was heaven.

That September morning I woke up to good news: I didn’t have to go to school!

‘Maryalo na!’ people at home said. Congress had been padlocked. Newspapers had been shut down. ‘Subersibos’ were being rounded up. Makoy and company, backed by the military, were in charge.

I didn’t care about any of that.

The one thing I cared about was this: I didn’t have to go to school!

And even better: there was nothing but cartoons on TV! Nothing but ‘Wacky Races’ and ‘Popeye’ the whole day. (Well, except for those boring government speeches and announcements.)

Even among relatives and neighbors, the early reviews of the new order were upbeat. Peace and order, at last, they said. No more long-haired pesky student protesters. No more noisy, crazy rallies.

People were even lining up in stores or in the streets to catch a jeepney or a commuter bus, instead of elbowing one another to get ahead. ‘Sa Ikauunlad ng Bayan, Disiplina ang Kailangan.’

Indeed, Martial Law was like being in heaven.

But, like I said, I was just a child.

And I also came from a middle class family. That meant some measure of protection.  For under Marcos, the deal went something like this: ‘You’re middle class. You’re generally well-off. So you’ll get an education, have a career. Just shut up and play along. And everything will be all right for you.’

That, in a way, was how Marcos and his criminal band managed to gain control — by convincing many from the middle classes to shut up and play along.

But for most Filipinos who had always been shut out of the middle class dream, and for many from the middle class who didn’t fall for Marcos’s lies, September 21 marked the start of life in purgatory.

Yes, there was a peace and quiet. But behind the appearance of calm and order in those early years of Martial Law, the killing, the torture, the looting had begun.

My father still sometimes enjoys repeating the joke about what “peace and order” really meant to the Marcoses. “Oh, it means, ‘I want a piece of this, I want a piece of that, and that’s my order.’”

Then he would laugh.

But, of course, it was no laughing matter. Not the looting. Not the torture. Not the murders. Not the silence. Not the fear.

For a great number of Filipinos, Martial Law was life in hell.

Eventually, the nightmare ended.

And the Martial Law Babies? They even played a role in ending it.

We may have been the brats who welcomed the school-free days of non-stop cartoons on TV when Marcos unleashed the great lie about saving Philippine democracy and ushering in a new society.

But by the time we were young Filipinos, we knew better.

Despite years of attempted brainwashing, despite the years of singing those stupid, fascistic songs praising Marcos’s bogus new society, despite the fear, the bullying, and the brutality of the regime, by the time the entire nation was ready to rise, we were ready to join the fight.

It’s been 39 years since Marcos imposed his dictatorship. That’s really not a long time. But, sadly, it’s also long enough for many people to forget.

And to be sure, we should not forget. We should not forget the looting, the killing, the torture, and the lies.

Most important of all, we should not forget the lesson we learned from Ferdinand Marcos and his gang: That when people get disillusioned, when they are struggling with extreme poverty, are frustrated with political repression, inequality, and chaos, they may act to fight for democratic change as Filipinos did in 1986.

Or they may become vulnerable to a politically-savvy, even charismatic, figure who would shamelessly proclaim, “I have the answers. All these others are your enemy. Rally to me, and everything will be fine.”

That call can come from a cunning, ruthless politician like Marcos. And there are certainly many would-be Marcoses around, to be sure.

Or that call can come from other groups, other forces promising paradise, claiming that it is they who should lead, that it is they who know the way …

Because they spent years mastering the fine points of military strategy and authoritarian leadership, which makes them the best qualified to maintain order.

Because they have the correct political line, the superior ideology, which makes them the true vanguard of the oppressed.

Because they are rich, highly-educated, and can’t possibly go wrong.

Or because they claim to have God on their side.

It’s September 21.

Time to remember. Again.

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