El Filibusterismo

In the face of failure, Chapter 33 moves toward violent revolt. This transition is important because it follows history’s pattern of revolution. For example, during the American Revolution, colonists sought reform and greater autonomy without any true call for armed resistance. It was only after further suppression that the colonists declared independence, created the United States, and fought Great Britain. Such was the pattern of the French Revolution, and South American nations when they finally revolted against Spain. Chapter 34 captures Basilio’s inner turmoil in potentially having to kill for the revolution. However, at this point in the novel, the general populace’s suffering has become insurmountable, and Basilio, Simoun, and loosely the Philippines are now dedicated to fighting for their rights.

Chapter 35 furthers Simoun’s revolt, but also takes one more opportunity to criticize the wealthy. Ben Zayb describes those at the party as the gods of the Philippines, akin to Greek and Roman deities, which corresponds to the egotism of the upper class. They’re obviously not gods and goddesses, but conduct themselves as such. Mentions of the Greeks and Romans allude to the idea that as the Romans fell, as Greek and Roman deities gave way to Christianity, the current elites of Philippine society will also fall. Another allusion to revolt and revolution is the phrase “Alea jacta est” (290)—Latin for “the die is cast.” This phrase is attributed to Julius Caesar before he crossed the river Rubicon, which marked a “demilitarized” zone for Rome. Just as Caesar sought to take control of the city, the lighting of Simoun’s bomb-lamp marked the point of no return.

Chapter 36 comprises the unraveling of Simoun’s plan to kill a house of Filipino elites, as not every variable can be accounted for—especially when human whims are involved. Isagani’s interruption, an act of love for Paulita, provides a deus ex machina to Simoun’s vengeance. Though the novel deals in vengeance, it’s not a revenge story: Simoun must fail in order to reinforce the lesson in Chapter 39.

Chapter 37 details rumors regarding Simoun’s failed plot against the government, providing resolution while exploring the convoluted nature of political intrigue and censorship. Moreover, this chapter emphasizes the passive hatred of the general public toward Filipino elites. A man named Momoy renounces the party’s lamp thief (Isagani), despite not actively participating in the revolt. In fact, people like Momoy would secretly celebrate the elites’ demise. Upon learning the consequences of his actions, Isagani laments what he did, saying that if love hadn’t blinded him, he wouldn’t have interfered in Simoun’s plan. In essence, the people wish for the government and clergy’s demise—but not always to the point of fighting for it themselves.

Chapter 38 takes the opportunity to tie up loose ends, namely Cabesang Tales’s story. Moreover, it shows the cost of revolution. It does this by illustrating the power struggle between the Civil Guard and the Philippine populace. The Civil Guard consists primarily of Indigenous Filipinos, while its officers are Spanish; this form of oppression in the Philippines comes at the hands of other Filipinos. Such is a political tactic used by colonizers and others in positions of power to pit people against each other. Because Civil Guard members are predominantly drawn from the lowest of the lower classes, they become slightly elevated, socially speaking; they are given great power over people like them. The manipulative nature of this dynamic is illustrated when guard Carolino (Tano) inadvertently kills his grandfather Tandang Selo.

In Chapter 39, Simoun confesses to Father Florentino and elucidates the reasons why his plans for revenge had to fail. His reasoning is justified, as he suffered great injustice as Ibarra and wishes to hold those responsible accountable. However, regardless of morality, violence inevitably leads to more violence. In the context of the novel, many will die before justice or progress toward Philippine independence is made. The root of all injustice in both of Rizal’s novels is greed—the desire for wealth, power, and influence—as per the axiom, money is the root of all evil. This axiom has roots in the New Testament, which reinforces the idea that the Catholic Church isn’t the enemy—corrupt priests are. Christian morality is still framed as a means of obtaining justice and peace. Thus, mutual respect and understanding, not war, are framed as the keys to solving the Philippines’s sociopolitical issues at the end of the 19th century.