Lessons from Nationalist Struggle: Life of Emmanuel Quiason Yap

By Jose Y. Dalisay Jr.

An Unknown Chapter in Philippine History

Emmanuel Quiason Yap possessed a unique perspective on world affairs. This was largely a product of his upbringing and life experience, which underpinned his great love of country. Through his life, we see a clear view of the road not taken.

This book portrays one of the most significant and turbulent chapters in Philippine history in this context. The period from the late 1950s to the early 1970s witnessed a resurgence of the nationalist movement, the election of Ferdinand Marcos as president, the establishment of the Communist Party of the Philippines, the First Quarter Storm, the bombing of Plaza Miranda, and the declaration of martial law.

Manoling Yap cast a different light on these events, including the roles of Marcos, and Ninoy and Cory Aquino. Inevitably, many disagreed with his analysis and some dismissed him as a Communist. Ironically, it was during this period that his career reached both its zenith and nadir.

Because of illness, he was unable to write his autobiography as he had always intended. But his analysis and interpretation of important events present an alternative viewpoint that must be known.
This is Manoling Yap’s story

• Language: English
• Publisher: Anvil Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Nov 15, 2017
• ISBN: 9789712733154

Book preview

Prologue

A pa, as we his children called him, had a unique perspective on world affairs. This was largely a product of his upbringing and life experience which underpinned his great love of country. Apa’s razor-sharp intellect enabled him to condense complex political and socio-economic issues. He was regularly sought out by politicians, government officials, intellectuals, and military and civic leaders for advice.

One of the ideas he always espoused was: We Filipinos are all victims of an absurd pro-colonial dispensation on the verge of chaos… Any President who merely tries to administer this decadent dispensation without fundamentally overhauling and rectifying its pro-colonial character is bound to fail the people and become victim of this dispensation’s built-in contradictions and antagonisms.

Many of course disagreed with Apa’s views and beliefs. Some even branded him a Communist. But history has a way of revealing the truth. Take for example the conventional wisdom that the 1986 EDSA People Power Revolution heralded a new era for Philippine society. Yet no fundamental change took place. Thirty years after this historic event–by now it is clear it wasn’t a revolution–the Philippines has fallen farther behind Malaysia and Thailand in terms of economic development. Indonesia and China have already overtaken us. Poverty incidence in the Philippines is higher than in Indonesia, Vietnam and China, and barely lower than Cambodia. Many prominent personalities who were at the helm during the martial law regime remain in the echelons of power. No member of the military has been convicted for human rights violations. No one has been incarcerated for plundering the country’s coffers during martial law. Even the roles of Ferdinand Marcos and Ninoy and Cory Aquino in contemporary Philippine history have to be reevaluated, and Apa cast a different perspective on this.

In this context, we believe that Apa’s analysis and interpretation of important events in his lifetime present an alternative viewpoint that must be known. We regret that he was not able to write his biography as he always intended. But we believe that Filipinos have to learn about his life in order to appreciate his views and principles, and hopefully better understand Philippine history. We, the children of Professor Emmanuel Quiason Yap, have embarked on this project. This is Apa’s story.

Part One

His Life

Emmanuel Q. Yap [EQY] upon graduating from high school, circa 1949

W hen Emmanuel Quiason Yap died all of a sudden on September 26, 2011, very few Filipinos knew what they had lost. It was almost as if a stranger had walked into a sleeping household, had left a precious gift in their midst, and then walked away; waking up in the morning, the family members see the object and wonder what it was and who brought it there, but they cannot recognize its value, and so put it aside.

His peers and colleagues would recognize and refer to him, even within his lifetime, as a visionary, an astute student and critic of his nation’s political and economic fortunes, a shaper of minds whose firm nationalist beliefs might have led the Philippines on to another track of growth and progress. He was an adviser to presidents, senators, and congressmen; for a time, he headed an economic planning office for the House of Representatives; he helped to foster stronger diplomatic ties between the Philippines and socialist countries; and he founded a popular movement to promote patriotism among Filipinos. In various venues over many decades, including a newspaper column, he campaigned strenuously for a more independent foreign policy, a more self-reliant economy, and for greater justice in a society riven by exploitation and oppression.

Manoling Yap, in other words, was a reformer, a man who never tired of thinking how life might yet be bettered. And he was no armchair dreamer, but someone who took his battles to the political arena, risking his life and freedom in pursuit of his principles. But as many, if not most, reformers soon discover, Manoling Yap would often find his idealism opposed, rejected, or even taken advantage of by others resigned to a more cynical view of things.

The third of six children, Emmanuel was born on December 9, 1931 in Angeles, Pampanga to Jose Lao Yap and Lydia Aguilar Quiason. The six children were born within ten years: Edgardo, born December 3, 1927; Leonides, born April 22, 1929; Emmanuel, born December 9, 1931; the only girl Angelita, born March 14, 1934; Joselito, born November 5, 1936; and Melchor, born January 6, 1940.

Like many Chinese immigrants, Manoling’s grandfather Jose Carlos Yap Siong left Fujian to find work in the Philippines, where he met and married Maria Lim Lao; the marriage produced an only son, Jose Yap.

The Yaps operated a distillery that manufactured rice wine in Angeles, on Rizal Street in Barrio San Nicolas, close to the public market. The house he and his siblings grew up in was burned during the Second World War, but the house that replaced it is still there. Manoling’s father Jose and mother Lydia met in Pampanga. Lydia’s family had owned a music store in Raon, Manila’s music center. Music would remain an important influence in Manoling’s life.

A Capampangan-Chinese background

The esteemed historian Dr. Serafin Danganan Jun Quiason, Jr. was Manoling’s first cousin on his maternal side. Being just a little older than Manoling, he grew close to the younger boy: We became close playmates, spending the best and halcyon days of our teenage lives in Culiat. His later training as a historian would give Dr. Quiason a unique view of the family:

Manoling was born into a strong Capampangan-Chinese mestizo background. His grandfather, Yap Siong, a young immigrant from Fujian, settled in Angeles, and prospered in his distillery plant. In time, he was a man to be reckoned with financially. His grandfather married Maria Lao with whom he had an unico hijo, Jose Lao Yap. In the old family portrait, his grandfather and father wore a queue, the symbol of Manchu sovereignty over the Chinese.

There’s another painting, by the renowned 19th century portraitist Simon Flores, that shows the other side of the family: Manoling’s grandfather on the Quiason side, with his wife Severina and their two children, Jose and Aureo. Jose Quiason would become the father of Manoling’s mother Lydia. The Quiasons were related to the Aquinos of Tarlac; Manoling’s and Ninoy Aquino’s great-grandparents were siblings.

Music, fruits, and flowers

Jose Lao Yap studied in Manila at San Juan de Letran and became a lawyer. Says Dr. Quiason: For his secondary education, Tatang Jose studied at San Juan de Letran and was the classmate of Fernando H. Lopez of Jaro, Iloilo (later to be Vice President of the Republic during the Marcos Administration). Fluent in Spanish and later in English, Tatang Jose pursued his Law studies at the Escuela de Derecho.

Lydia, Manoling’s mother, could also have been a lady of very comfortable means. She was among the first pupils at the Instituto de Mujeres in Manila. Her father Jose Quiason was in the sugar business, and in fact knew the brother of Rizal. Manoling’s mother’s mother was an Aguilar, Marcela Aguilar, who was the first cousin of Servillano Aquino.

Growing up at the Holy Family Academy run by the Benedictine nuns, the boy Manoling sang Latin hymns in the church choir. He played the piano and the guitar. At Holy Family, Manoling proved himself to be a bright grade school pupil.

In school programs, Manoling and his sister Angelita would often team up, with Angelita on the piano and Manoling singing. At calisthenics, Manoling led the boys, and Angelita led the girls. They were quite popular.

Manoling’s son Josef recalls:

We have fond memories of our paternal grandmother, who we first cousins called Ima. She was a spry, energetic, and headstrong woman. Meals at Apa’s ancestral home were a gastronomic delight. Ima herself had limited culinary skills but she had a long-time household helper named Onyang who, in our view, was the greatest cook in the history of Angeles. Our favorites were the chocolate at breakfast, the dinuguan ("tidtad") and the kilawin na puso ng saging usually served at lunch.

Lolo Jose owned a farm in Balibago, located in the outskirts of Angeles. Apa and his siblings would say that this was Lolo’s refuge from a world that frustrated him. He built an artificial lake where we would go boating. He also had poultry, and raised pet deer on the farm. After Lolo passed away in 1968, one of our uncles, Tito Chot, added a swimming pool and picnic area. We always enjoyed visiting Yap Park which is what Tito Chot named the place.

We were close to our first cousins. Altogether there were twenty-nine of us. We cousins spoke in English, not in Capampangan, which in later life we found a bit strange. We believe that our parents made a conscious decision that English be our first language, perhaps owing to the language of the school system. We spoke with our parents, uncles, aunts, and Ima in English even if they spoke Capampangan among themselves.

When we were old enough to understand, we realized that the quality of noblesse oblige ran strong in both Ima and Lolo Jose. The stories we were told make it clear that they were both appreciated in Angeles for their generosity and wisdom. For instance, employees were fiercely loyal. When Ima died, their cook, Onyang, was one of the handful of people outside the immediate family who attended Ima’s funeral in March, 2005. Ima was buried barely twenty-four hours after she passed away and Onyang traveled all the way to Manila even if old age had made her quite weak.

The war breaks out

Manoling was a day short of turning ten and his sister, Angelita, was seven when the war broke out on December 8, 1941. The Philippines was attacked by the Japanese almost right after Pearl Harbor, one of the major targets being Clark Air Base in Pampanga, not too far from where the Yaps lived. Angelita recalls that fateful day:

We were coming from the church, and people were saying that Pearl Harbor had been bombed. Of course, there was a commotion. Shortly after, my father called us, and we just managed to run to a high wall behind us. The Japanese were already bombing Clark Air Base, and it was so near that we could hear it. We were shaking with fear. I think it was that same night, some people brought us somewhere farther, but also inside the town–to the residence of the Lazatins, who were friends of my father. We stayed there for I don’t know how long. The Lazatins tried to bring us to Manila, because it had been declared an Open City. But the bridges had been bombed, so we had to turn back to go to Porac.

The Japanese landed soon after, and the Yaps decided to decamp, evacuating to Porac. After a few days, a relative brought them to Arayat in Candaba. And then they walked back to Angeles.

Jun Quiason recalls that time:

During the Japanese onslaught on the Bataan Peninsula from February to March 1942, many Angeles families evacuated to several barrios in Porac. The family of Tatang Jose and Imang Lyding narrowly escaped death because they were hemmed in between the ill-equipped but extremely brave and tenacious Philippine Scouts defending the Porac-San Fernando-San Simon line against the advancing Japanese forces of General Homma. For the whole family–Tatang Jose, Imang Lyding, Apung Maria, and the children–plus the hundreds of evacuees, the Battle of Porac was